Chapter Text
The Observer had watched as it always does. Silently, mindlessly, almost aimlessly. It was as if it wasn’t sentient at all. It had watched time and time again this endless cycle, humans were born, they lived, and then they died. A trivial amount compared to the world, to the universe, to The Observer. They were selfish and foolish creatures, simply living out their desires in a flash of color before wilting.
This was how they came to an end, polluting the world until even their mechanical hearts failed. It had long since watched the human race die. It hadn’t shed a tear, spared even a moment's glance at them as they screamed and cried to their gods to clean their mess and save them.
It fell on deaf ears.
The observer didn’t care though, it had seen this before. When the first human became food to a hungry predator. When a human hundreds of years later was stoned to death. When hundreds and millions and billions of humans died after that. The Observer was numb, unable to feel anything. To even think at all was an ability it didn’t have.
Until now. As the final human breathed her last breath, it awoke. The air, which it hadn’t even thought could bear so much, was overwhelming. The feeling of its hands and backside on the rubbled concrete and the sound of wind howling through the tall skyscrapers grated on its being. But most of all, a voice in its head, the ability to think and feel and speak like a normal human were at its disposal.
But why had this happened, how had this happened
The Observer knew nothing about how or why or what had happened. It was clueless. Hell, the thing hadn't even had a thought before this.
All it could do was stare up at the darkened grey sky, the sun bloated out by thick plumes of smoke made by humans and their ways of controlling the core mechanics of the universe. It was unfortunate they never had the chance – never took the chance to save their failing world.
So many ideas were in its head. So many The Observer felt like it's head could explode. The ground, the air, the taste in its mouth, down to its very breathing were practically enough to overload its senses.
Was this how humans...felt?
To feel. That magical, almost mythical word was unattainable to The Observer for so long. It had pointlessly watched the birth of the universe, the making of the earth, evolution of the human race, and death of it too, yet none of the thoughts in its head made sense. They just made no fucking sense!
If it could feel, why couldn't it before. If it wasn't corporeal before, why was it now? If it was only supposed to watch because that was all it could do before, What the heck does it do now.
The Observer was confused.
Utterly, irrevocably, and infinitely confused.
Some 3 hours later...
By now, The Observer had figured out a few things.
Its body, previously a phantom that saw everything happening at once, was no longer formless; In fact, it was quite the opposite. So real that it could collide with a wall, but unreal enough that it couldn't see its own face like many humans had.
Next, there was the problem of the overwhelming senses. The Observer wasn't able to smell, think, feel, taste, hear, or see anything before. It had no physical form. Though while a visage of observation it had seen and heard and smelled, just mindlessly. Of course it didn't think of that.
Finally, there was the problem of consciousness. The Observer could barely keep track of all its thoughts, purposeful ones or not. In fact its mind was racing so much it wanted to claw its own flesh away to reveal the fatty tissue of the brain to silence it and go back to mindless bliss.
But first it wanted to find out the reason for its abrupt and sudden existence. It wasn't as if it came out of thin air, no? So what had caused it? Ultra specific conditions that are near 70 to the power of 10 to the power of 100? Perhaps some cosmic deity decided to pop it into reality after the humans death? Maybe this was some dream? Either way The Observer was clueless for the single, but definitely not the last, time in its life or whatever it was before that.
So, like any smart being would, The Observer began to walk.
Unsurprisingly, it found that it could not walk forever. So it decided to camp out in the nearest debris littered building in the smoggy cityscape for the process of setting, turning, and rising that is dusk to dawn.
It was cold.
Colder than The Observer had ever thought possible.
It brought it back to a moment in history that it captured, a moment forgotten by all but it.
Winter; 1623, November 5th.
The snow had fluttered towards the ground in a downpour of white, glittering crystals. It blanketed the land in hills of soft powder. Settling over the sheets was the soft glow of sunrise. A reprieve for diurnal creatures (such as humans), the symbol of rest and recovery for nocturnal beings, and the active time for crepuscular animals.
The sun, a celestial body, had sent her days of light forever towards the earth. This created beautiful scenes such as this. The light bouncing off the flakes in dazzling and blinding beams.
There in that setting stood a human. He was dressed in robes made of hide and many layers. He was dressed for the winters of this land. Yet he shivered. Perhaps from the sheer force of will it took to trek across 10 straight miles in blizzard injured or the cold, a more savage and merciless beast than whatever he had fought.
The Observer was watching this as usual. A quiet listener to a human that felt alone. As alone as he will ever feel.
The feeling of being the only one to witness your death, to witness the crossing of your soul to the after life. Or perhaps the simple end of you.
The man, Paavo as The Observer knew him, had been born to a loving couple in the northernmost reaches of earth. He was healthy from a young age and grew to be a fine young man. Unfortunately he never got the chance to confess to his sweetheart. On top of that his favorite food was his mother's soup and bread. Paavo was known as a strong, outgoing, and lively man to his peers.
But now he looked pathetic. Paavo was beaten to hell, wreaked form his run-in with a wild, and very hungry, predator. Paavo was bound to die, alone in the unchanged land of white.
He had realized this just a few places earlier. Lost, starving, afraid, and at death's door. Paavo gave up. He dropped to his knees and began to cry for the first time since he was a boy. Reduced to sniveling garbage crumpled against the tundra, Paavo begged his god to spare him. Or perhaps allow him an easy passage to death.
Whether he was answered or not is unknown to The Observer. It knew his birth, life, death but not what he felt, not what he thought, or saw, or smelled, heard, or tasted. The Observer was simply inexperienced in these things.
Now it wondered what it had been like, to die all alone and scared. To know no one will ever see you again – that you will never see anyone again.
But the past was the past, and that was unchangeable. You can't erase the ink on the page, only the pencil future.
The Observer liked Paavo. But also pitied him in a way it didn't know it could.
Unlike Paavo, The Observer had survived the cold night and morning.
The shedding of the phantasm that is a dream was new to the Observer, this was its second day here, and first full one.
It was surprising how the sun could smile down upon it despite the layer of smoke covering the land so thoroughly. Truly it was the undisputed queen of the solar system. Of course that solar system was governed by the galaxy which was governed by a black hole which was governed by black matter and governed by the rapid expansion of the universe.
Though, that barely mattered now.
Today The Observer thought it ought to walk some more. So it did. It explored the ruins around where it slept. The place was rundown and filled with old reminders of the former human race.
An eerie fog had settled over the city, including inside due to all the broken glass windows. The Observers had to step over glass shards as it explored the convenience store, looking at old food packages, moldy fridges and busted cash registers. Near the front it stopped.
In front of it lay a package of Twinkies, reminding it of something.
Spring; 2011, February 10th.
Mollie was a little girl from the suburbs no older than 9. Her family wasn't rich but neither was it poor. Mollie's father, a car mechanic, was out at work today. that left her with her brother that day. He was a kind boy, about 16 with a beautiful girlfriend and a promising future.
Mollie loved her family, her life, her friends and the world. But most of all she loved her car. Her favorite food was cake and her favorite color pink as any other girl would say.
Right now, Mollie was watching a movie named WALL-E. It was a movie about a robot left in a dirty, dying world that finds another robot in which it falls in love with before saving said world.
The Observer liked that movie, well now at least. It was almost ironic, with the current state of the world and all. It differed heavily from WALL-E but had the same premise. Except there were no robots, no hope, nothing. The world was dead, just like any other planet. It was a hopeless sphere of cooked magma and still hot magma with a heavy metal core. Nothing more, nothing less.
So far the Observer required no food or water, but it took the Twinkie for some odd reason. Perhaps sentiment? Either way it didn't really matter. The same way Pavo and Mollie and the billions of other dead humans and animals and insects. They were gone and that's it.
Once you're dead there is no more adding to your main story or plot, just an epilogue of other sentiments and comments and opinions of your life that you will never know.
Of course to a lifeless creature such as the Observer it was barely a need to worry about this.
As it explored, the Observer found relics of the past civilization laid to ruin by its own greed. Mugs, books, metal framework, skyscrapers, and so much more. Practically everything around it was man made.
Fortunately, after a night's rest, it found it had good control over its senses and thoughts, but not its feelings.
Who knew humans felt so much. It was truly fascinating.
Soon, the Observers found itself in a subway. One half of the tunnel was collapsed, leaving only a singular way to walk through. The Observer never said it was smart, just observant. Due to that fact, it walked down the tunnel.
The subway was a strange cyan haze from the bioluminescent bulbs. Sure the humans destroyed their world, but they made such beautiful creations like so. The Observer ran its hands along the wall of the textured bulbs, somewhat like plastic and silicone mixed into one material. It felt nice.
That exploration led it to a train car, and next to it a heap of metal shaped oddly humanoid. only when the Observer approached it did it see that it was a robot.
Metal soldiers, they called them, the dogs of the military. In fact they fought wars for the humans, detained humans, almost thought like humans too. But they weren't human, and they would never be.
The Observer crouches before the robotic figure, poking at its lifeless head. It was a screen, usually it would display information and act as a camera, but it didn't seem to display anything currently. Then there were its rusted joints that the Observer picked up only to drop.
Finding nothing, the Observer thought to leave. But an idea popped into its mind.
"Hey..." It didn't truly know how to pronounce words yet so all it could do was slur. But it was good enough.
And enough it sure was. The robot lurched to life, blinking on with a charging symbol at the edge of its screen. It took in its surroundings before asking: "where am I?" The words didn't match up, as if drawn out of a word Bank.
"..." The Observer really didn't want to talk so it just pointed a finger at the subway panels and it immediately understood.
"Why is it dilapidated?"
The Observer shrugged, it really didn't want to get into a monologue.
"Then, who are you?"
...
Who was the Observer?
Truly, who was it? It wasn't human, nor was it not. It was something in-between yet completely different. It was everything and nothing at once. A complex paradox of metaphors and questions not yet answered. It was a simple bystander to the ways of the world. Yet it stood at the center of the ring.
If the Observer was nothing, then why was it something? If the Observer was no one, why did it have an identity? If the Observer had no Brian, then why did it feel conscious?
"I am..."
It couldn't think of a response.
"I am no one."
The mechanical soldier paused briefly before continuing. It needed to process its surroundings and the information with its coding.
The Observer merely pointed it the way out and followed.
Spring; 1987, February 2nd.
Oz loved robots, they are his current fixation.
Sure he was 14 and should probably get out of these obsessions of his and do his school work. But bad habits die hard.
He liked soccer and preferred his mom's cooking to his dad's. There was also his collection of Legos in his room, the builds ranging from simple to intricate. Oz loved math and hated his music classes that his mom forced him to do.
Today, the boy was going to school like usual. He was soon to turn 15 and was ecstatic for the event
He couldn't wait.
Oz's homework was half done and his hair still messy. He could barely contain himself. He wanted to bounce off the walls announcing his birthday to everyone. Though he only saved the honor for his friends.
Unfortunately, fate has a twisted idea of humor.
Like the sky flashes with the land, Oz was shot through the heart, dead on the spot. The school shooting was lethal and uncommon to the time, yet wouldn't be the last of it either.
5 died that day, Oz included. He turned 15 an hour after so. Yet he never flew out those candles, never got to be taken out for school early.
The Observers didn't know why it remembered that exactly, but perhaps the Observer thought of it due to the robot in front of him. Oz would have loved it, that boy.
After following the robot for the day, it fell over and died from a low battery. Luckily for the Observer, it had died near a charging station powered by solar panels. The humans had tried to change, just too late.
The Observer was able to plug the metal junk in, sitting idly by it as it charged. It whirled to life by morning, the solar panels somehow being able to power it to 20% despite the bloated out sun in the smog. It was like a smokey day in California after a rampant wildfire.
Perhaps the Observer made a new friend, staring into its lifeless eyes - or where it thought its eyes would be. Or maybe it had just made an acquaintance in this horrid situation. But as sure as dawn fills the night sky, the answer was bound to come.
To be continued…