2. Woodridge
After Humans - Episode 2
Despite the robbery and countless other dangers, what unsettled me most was the darkness. Every evening, as light faded, an irrational sense of being too late, too exposed and deeply lost, would creep in. It made me unwilling to settle for the night. So, I kept on walking, mumbling to myself, thinking about how everything I had studied in my previous life, everything I understood, all my experiences and insights, how it all felt utterly redundant at this point. The one thing I needed now was warmth. Yet, fire, humanity’s earliest invention, was beyond me. I hadn’t found any food today either, had only quenched my thirst by licking rainwater off my lips. As I kept going, my mind was constantly being torn between my desire to fall asleep, and my fear of death. So I pushed forward, like all these other nights, which I hadn’t counted. At some point I realized I had actually been walking while being asleep on some monotonous sections, something I hadn’t known to be possible a week ago.
Like now. It was a small noise that woke me from an absurd dream, in which I was being augmented. A horrific process, which I gladly underwent. I kept on going, into the darkness. The dream I’d had was already fading from my consciousness, while I wondered what had woken me up. It was then, when I noticed the warm shimmering of a fire a few minutes ahead. I immediately stopped, ducked down. Somehow I had the mental capacity to focus. I looked, and figured it was probably not the gang of robbers, as they had gone in another direction. So, other people. A reason to cheer? I had to be careful, for they could still be thugs, or they could be a peaceful community, making the best of it. The uncertainty of everything was turning me in a different person.
Creeping in closer, I noticed multiple lightsources, from multiple fires. It was actually a settlement. It still had houses from the previous era, which was remarkable, as most houses had been taken apart for firewood, or had been demolished, set ablaze, during irrational acts of aggression.
I noticed a few people, and then some more. In fact there were a lot of people, and as far as I could tell, no one really paid attention to one another. They were all wearing military outfits, but their posture made it obvious they weren’t soldiers. The disregard they seemed to show for each other comforted me somewhat, as it could allow me to keep to myself and blend in. I decided to enter the town, I intended caution, but my hunger, thirst and cold pushed me to take risks. This must be how it feels to be an animal in the wild, always looking for food, yet always prepared for the worst.
Being nearer and nearer to other people felt increasingly terrifying. We are a truly violent species. I sensed the temperature increase due to the town’s proximity, it felt good to feel the warmth. People were walking, crossing each other, I got close enough to read the expression on someone’s face. No eye contact. No one made eye contact. People were silently moving through this little town. It felt depressing, even though the warmth, and the light created an odd cozy sentiment, reminiscing of Christmas, or Halloween.
“Who are you?”
I looked up to my left, straight in the face of someone a foot taller than me. A man, skinny yet muscled. I was in a state of confusion, didn’t seem to remember how to respond to a person. I froze, while a part of me urged to escape.
He must’ve noticed the fear in my eyes. “How long have you been walking?” he asked. He sounded friendly at least.
I relaxed a little. “A few days. My name is… John.”
“Follow me, John. And… Welcome to Woodridge.”
He led me into what looked like a military command center, lit by many candles. All rooms we passed were full of bunk beds, orderly arranged in columns. We entered the mess hall. I could smell the cooked potatoes, some vegetables. There were only two others, seated, and eating. “Please, sit down,” the tall man said, while filling me a plate.
The chair was not comfortable, but sitting felt like a blessing. Every fiber of my body urged me to focus on the food. I tried to hide my impulses. “Do you have water too?” I asked, while feeling my numb toes come alive somewhat.
He filled me a glass, added it to the tray, put the tray on a table. “There you go,” he said.
I waited for a moment, until he was gone, and then I devoured the food, using my hands, ignoring the cutlery, quenching my thirst by emptying the glass. I almost choked, spit out half of the water with parts of potato. I had almost forgotten about the other two guests, who were silently observing me. I calmed down. Took a deep, slow breath. Started to eat in a more civilized manner. No one spoke. I was hoping both of them would leave, but they didn’t. They just sat there. Each of them pretending to be alone, just like me. They probably hoped I would leave soon, too. I had finished all the food, but was still hungry. I calmed down, relaxed, maybe too much, as I had to fight to not pass out right here at the table. When I finally got up, I felt the pain in my feet, the exhaustion. I barely managed to walk towards the first room with bunk beds I could, I chose the first bottom bed I saw, and laid myself down.
I couldn’t believe it, how despite being exhausted, I couldn’t fall asleep. Too much had happened along the way, too many nights had I tried to sleep, too many times had I woken up from suspicious sounds, howling wolves, snapping twigs. I’d open my eyes, human silhouettes turning out to be nothing more than shadows. Rustling leaves, as if someone, or something was moving through the bushes around me. I tried to convince myself I was safe now, but I didn’t even trust myself anymore. As I laid here, in the bunk bed, I started reconstructing my journey. How I left my house. In fact a huge mansion, with large glass panels, offering breathtaking views over the Pacific. Those last months it had felt abandoned though, empty bedrooms, only myself to talk to, seeing posthumanity take place on the horizon. My last days there, I had noticed how the water level of my swimming pool had sunk to that of a foot bath, full of autumn leaves. I had tried to stay there, in the comfort, but just comfort wouldn’t sustain me. No running water, my home batteries gradually depleting, ergo, no electricity. No food. Only memories of the people that used to love me. Then the moment my phone’s battery had been dangerously low, until its screen had turned off. That was the moment I had decided to leave. I had grabbed as much as I could, a lot of stuff I would gradually drop along the way. The weight of my former life as a fading trail. I remembered the bus, the robbery, still not sure whether I was lucky to have gotten out of that alive.
“Sir?”
I jolted upright, as the lack of safety these past days had left its mark.
“Calm down, sir. Can you tell me your last name, please?”
A woman stood over me, about fifty years old. She reminded me of mid-level managers, and their never ending corporate meetings, rarely yielding anything of substance. My last name. “Johnson,” I said hesitantly.
“John Johnson?” she asked in disbelief.
I realized it was indeed silly. It had simply been the first name that my restless self had been able to come up with.
“My name is Elsbeth, and I handle new arrivals, among other things. So, do you have any useful skills?”
Useful skills, I pondered. Skills from before my management track. Programming and presentations came to mind, both obsolete well before I had been discarded.
“No? In that case I will enlist you with the farmers.”
I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. I didn’t dare to say I used to lead intercontinental divisions. Perhaps these people wouldn’t appreciate the profile.
“Do you have any relatives?”
I remembered my wife, kids, barbecues near the swimming pool. “I don’t know,” I said.
She nodded. “A lot of people have lost contact with their loved ones,” she said.
In my case it was different, but I gladly embraced this convenient explanation.
“So, if you will please come with me, I will show you around.”
I obediently followed her, noticing her slight limp, subtle yet stiff. I hadn’t even decided whether I wanted to stay here or not. For now it would probably be the best to comply. ‘Yes, comply, and keep a low profile’, I emphasized to myself.
She stopped near the entrance of the dressing room, “there, you have some new clothes,” she said, pointing at a stack of military green, tightly folded. “And please, first take a shower. I will be at my office, near the entrance.”
“Okay, thank you,” I said. I watched her walk back, every step looked painful, but she kept on going. I would have hired her.
I picked up the fresh, new clothes. They smelled good. Then I passed by a mirror. At first I hadn’t even recognized myself, had felt it was someone else I saw, but no, this was me. My own stare scared me, as if I looked into my own soul. I looked skinny, especially in my face. I’d had a beard before, but this one looked rough, and my clothes, they were no more than rags of textile by now. I looked like one of those generic homeless guys from the Tenderloin, the kind I’d have completely ignored barely a year ago.
The shower. There was no warm water, but I had to shower. First my feet, then my head. There was a certain cold shock, but it wasn’t as bad as I had imagined. I washed myself with the soap that was made available. My feet were a bloody mess, they hurt, large blisters. After showering, it was painful to dry them, and to put socks on. There was no way to trim my beard, but that was fine for now.
“Ready?” she asked, as I appeared at her small office near the entrance.