Week 34: The Rememberer (Prompt: A Story about loneliness)

It is my job to remember.

That was what I was meant to do when they shot me up, up and away. The Designated Survivor, the last desperate plan of a dying species on a dying world. There were other stations, but they were all vulnerable. It was only mine that wasn’t, and that’s where they kept most of the eggs.

I flew and I slept, waking to sleep and sleeping to wake. And I remembered. I remembered that which I’d lived and that which I hadn’t, the files traveling with me and in me. I learned, and I remembered. I wrote, and I remembered.

The computer did the flying for me. There was no guarantee I would reach the destination, if I did, if it would bear its promises.

It did, and now it is becoming full. Our species moves on.

It is only I who remembers. The others, the young ones, most of them don’t much care, and maybe they shouldn’t. Their life is not there, but here.

But someone must remember. Someone must see the genetic ghosts splashed across the faces here and know what it was their mothers and fathers gave to them. Someone must watch them grow up in this strange place and burrow into their strange houses and worry about the future of this second chance.

Was there someone who remembered before? Was there a moment when we arrived on that blue marble and forgot everything that came before? Have we darted across the stars infinitely, carrying our mistakes and the sins of our ancestors on our shoulders?

If it is by remembering that we move past the mistakes of our past, then I must. The only, the one, the last. She who has seen both the end of life and the beginning.

I doubt many believe the stories I tell. Memory is just a word, a word they use that could mean “story” or “myth” or anything at all.

If the memories didn’t haunt me so, I might start to think the same as them.