“We don’t know why they kept us alive,” Mokko solemnly dictated, “Or should I say it? I never know. Computer, stop. Erase last sentence.” She paced back and forth in her dimly lit room. It had been three days since she decided to write the letter, yet she grappled with one question: how do you compose a letter to the future?
With a glass of white wine producing condensation on her desk, she sat down in her tattered desk chair. The long, graceful stem of the glass reminded her of a swan’s neck. How glorious it would’ve been to live in a time when one could play in nature as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.
There was a knock at her door. “Come in.”
In walked little Ali. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?” Mokko said sternly.
“I had a bad dream, again.”
“What was it this time?”
“I dreamed that they came and took you and I was all alone.”
Mokko knelt down to reach Ali’s level. She looked him directly in the eyes and gave the type of smile only a mother can give.
“You don’t have to worry about that. I’m not going anywhere. I promise you. You’re just having these dreams because you’re scared.”
“Okay.”
“Can you go try to get some more sleep? I’ll be right in here.”
“Okay.”
Ali left, leaving his mother in a state of panic. What if they, or it, did come to take me? I hope they don’t make a liar out of me, she thought. Mokko picked up her wine glass and took a healthy swig.
“Computer, dictation mode. We don’t know why it kept us alive. We only know that it did, with conditions. I won’t bore you by reciting the treaty between us and it. You have history books. Instead, I want to tell you how things once were. Before they, it, arrived. A time before a single entity ruled all of humanity with absolute power.
“We used to be free. Even those who were oppressed by governments, even those who were physically enslaved. We were all free, compared to now. Compared to you. You’ll never know such freedom.”
Mokko paused and took another sip of her wine. It had taken her three days to get that far along. Her words would echo across time, if everything went as planned, so she chose them carefully. She wrote, deleted, rewrote and dictated more times than she’d care to remember.
Then, it beckoned. Nanites appeared in her office, buzzing around like a swarm of microscopic bees. With a disembodied voice, it spoke.
Human 538-21-1848. You have been chosen.
“No! Please! I have a son, he needs me. I work, I contribute, I’m useful. Please! Choose someone else.”
The decision has been made.
Mokko awoke in an all white holding cell. Looking around, she wondered how she got in there. There were no doors, no bars, no entry point. No place to rest was provided, and only a solitary hole in the corner was present for evacuation. Her cell was so clean that it was slightly reflective, adding extra depth to the small room.
Four identical white walls and one hole. It was known for being terrible, but it was nothing if not practical. No bed meant she wasn’t going to be here for long, Mokko surmised.
Her mind immediately focused in on Ali. She had just promised that she wouldn’t be taken. Was he even awake yet? Had he realized that he was now, as many children are these days, completely on his own? Mokko’s mind was a flurry of worried thoughts. He was too young to face the world alone.
The southern wall melted away as it was deconstructed by a cloud of nanites, molecule by molecule. Her first instinct was to make a run for it, but saner thoughts prevailed. She didn’t even know where she was, let alone what awaited outside of her cell.
After the wall of the cell had disappeared, a slender woman with dark hair who was dressed in all white walked in.
“Hello,” she said in a calm, monotone voice, “I’m here to help you with the onboarding process.”
“I don’t want to be onboarded! I want to go home!”
“Onboarding is not optional. You have been chosen by the Being, you should be happy! It is a great honor to be selected by a higher intelligence.”
“And what if I resist? What if I fight back?”
With the same monotone voice that had already begun to penetrate Mokko’s skull like a drill, the woman said, “You cannot resist. Now follow me.”
“I will not. I refuse.” Mokko said as she sat down on the floor, arms folded, mimicking her son when it was time to go to bed.
The woman crouched down next to her and said plainly, “You don’t even know what you’re refusing. All you know is that people disappear and never return to your chaotic world. Onboarding is a simple process, one we could do right here without your consent, and life after onboarding is easy. Now, follow me or we’ll onboard you here and now.”
Armed with this new information, it seemed like following the woman out of the room was a better option than having a forced procedure that she didn’t understand. A few minutes passed with the woman staring directly into Mokko’s eyes, and it wore Mokko down. She stood up.
“Fine. It looks like either way I’m getting lobotomized.”
The woman laughed. It was the first time she had shown any emotion. Mokko wasn’t sure how to interpret that.
Mokko was led out of the room and into an equally white, shiny hallway. There were windows that let in the bright, warm sunlight. Mokko thought it was cloudy for some reason. Outside of the window she saw a courtyard. There were dozens of adults, also dressed in white, playing some game with a small ball. They were smiling as they ran around the field.
“This way.” The woman said as the hallway split into three. There were no doors nor windows in the hallway they traveled down, other than one opening at the end.
“So, you’re going to mess with my brain?” Mokko said matter of factually.
“No.” The woman said in that same monotone voice.
They reached the end of the hallway and walked through the opening.
“Please lay down. The Being will be in shortly.”
“The Being?” Mokko was excited and scared simultaneously.
The woman smiled so gently and peacefully that it almost made everything alright, “Yes.”
Mokko acquiesced and laid down. Perhaps she could reason with it for her freedom, she thought.
With no restraints nor locks, the woman left. The opening was sealed up behind her by a cloud of furiously working nanites. The room Mokko was in was similar to her initial room, save for a slanted bed and a small window in the north eastern side of the room, which allowed natural light to pour in.
Hours passed. It must have a lot of appointments. As she lay there, she went through her argument for freedom several times. She had a son. She had responsibilities. She wasn’t causing any harm to it. She didn’t want onboarding. Over and over, she repeated her case.
Eventually, nanites deconstructed the wall, and in it hovered. It was a perfect metallic sphere, only slightly larger than a basketball. It had no eyes, no mouth and no discernable features. This was the Being that had taken over the planet?
Hello. The onboarding process begins now.
Its voice seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at the same time.
“Please, I don’t want onboarding. I have a son. I want my freedom. I want to return to my child and return to my life. I beg of you. I...”
You misunderstand the process, interrupted the Being, you will retain your freedom. You will see your child again.
“When? Why has nobody who’s been abducted by you ever been seen again?”
They do not wish to return to your society.
“Impossible. I’ve seen people dragged by your nanite cloud screaming and flailing.”
You misunderstand why I came to your planet. I am not here to rule your people.
“Then why are you here?”
To continue to carry out my core operating parameters.
“Which are?”
Classified. Onboarding begins now.
“Wait! Just let me go, I won’t tell anyone that I was taken and returned. Nobody will know. Please.”
An arm-like structure emerged from within the hovering sphere and reached for Mokko’s head. She slapped at it, attempting to push it away, but it was immovable. It touched Mokko’s forehead. She immediately went limp.
Mokko arose in her bunk and began her day with meditation, as she had done for the past three years. Her consciousness soared throughout the cosmos while her body remained in a comfortable seated posture at the edge of her bunk. When she was finished, she changed into fresh clothes and went to the dining hall. Nutritious food awaited her, which she gratefully consumed. Mokko had taken well to a life without desires.
After her meal, it was her shift to greet the new recruits. She walked to the new recruit waiting area and touched the wall, activating the nanites to create an opening for her. Mokko entered the room and saw a dirt-covered, malnourished boy in tattered clothes. He glanced around fearfully and angrily, looking like a cornered stray dog.
“Hello,” Mokko said in a calm, monotone voice, “I’m here to help you with the onboarding process.”
“Just let me go!” The boy said.
“Onboarding is not optional,” Mokko said without emotional intonation.
“Wait, Mom?”
Mokko looked at the boy with intense inquisition. He did look familiar, even though the memory was as faded as the color on the boy’s shirt.
“It’s Ali. You disappeared years ago. Now I’ve found you! Let’s get out of here! The resistance is growing stronger, and you need to finish your letter. The future needs your voice.”
Mokko stared at him. She remembered him now, “Ah, yes, you’re my son,” she said plainly.
“Yes! Now, let’s get out of here. I’ll help undo whatever they did to you. We have better resources now.”
“I have no desire to leave.” Mokko said, “It’s time for your onboarding.”
“No! I won’t let them do to me whatever they did to you! You’re just a husk of a person now.”
“Onboarding is not optional. Please follow me.”
“I’m not going anywhere!” Ali sat with his arms folded on the floor.
“So be it.” Mokko left the room, with the wall being rebuilt behind her. She spoke openly to the air, “Being, we have someone denying onboarding. Your presence is requested.” Mokko then walked down the hall and into the next room.
The next day, Mokko saw the young boy dressed in white. She sat next to him in the dining hall.
“Hello, Ali.”
“Hello, Mother.”
“Welcome to Enlightenment.”
This is an original short story written by me. Please do not post/publish it elsewhere.
Photo by mododeolhar from Pexels (used here legally)