Seasoning

Seasoning


“…unknown virus…certain death with no cure…doomed…our final transmission. May God have mercy on...”

A ‘clack-clack’ and I lurched awake, their final broken communication still echoing in my mind. My sentence had been my salvation, stranded on a barren planetoid at the edge of the galaxy.

Rolling out of bed, I massaged my lower back to limber up. I should’ve slept on the floor. It’s funny that I really missed the simple things, like an occasional supply ship, and had no idea at the time that I’d have to make do with whatever I had left. It wasn’t much.

‘Clack-clack.’

I propped open the steel shutters, sheltering my eyes from the continuous flood of daylight. My prison, this hell I called home, never knew night, never knew weather…nothing but endless sunshine in a trinary star system. In the beginning, I justified it to be better to die free and alone than be damned to a crowded prison. Now, my exile was maddening, and the fail-safes implanted in my brain prevented me from even killing myself.

‘Clack-clack.’

At least I had the breeze, and I opened the door wide. Of course, my home wasn’t much – just an old shipping container baked by the suns. I had plenty of water, drawn from deep below ground, but my cooling system struggled. Thankfully, my rebuilt converter could transform a handful of dirt and a few grams of my own shit into a reasonable approximation of a filet mignon. Today, though, I’d just start with coffee.

Easing back into my old steel chair, I wiped the sweat from my brow and took a sip. I’d finally gotten the acidity right. The wind danced through steel chimes, accompanying the steady ‘clack-clack’ from a loose panel on my shed clapping down with every surge of wind.

‘Clack…’ Silence.

Odd, I stepped from my porch and rounded the corner to find an unexpected figure across the meager garden from me, not unlike a man, though taller by a meter and lacking any sort of a face. I stumbled back in terror, searching for some sort of weapon and finding it in a nearby shovel.

“Don’t be alarmed,” I heard in my mind, for the creature had no mouth from which to speak. “You’re the last.”

“The last what?” I asked.

“Human, of course.”

“Am I?” I suppose I was. “What…who are you?”

“One of trillions, spread across the universe like seeds upon the wind.”

“What do you want?” I brought my shovel up.

“To save you…resurrect your species.”

“How? Cloning?”

“No. A healthy breeding pair is the only way to preserve your quality,” it said.

“But, if I’m the last...”

“The last remote survivor, yes,” it confirmed.

“There are others?”

“Some. Yours is now the most prized species in the universe.”

“Prized? What does that mean?”

More creatures appeared beside it, approaching from behind the rocks. “We’ve savored you only recently. Sadly, our seasoning attempts only culled your herd.”

I stumbled backwards, trying to flee, but discovered more of them behind me. “What are you going to do to me?”

“Return you to your flock. We’ll take every measure to ensure a healthy, productive life – low stress, the freshest food, and access to many mates. In time, you’ll rebuild your numbers. Humanity is really the most delicious of all those we’ve encountered, especially now because of your rarity.”

Helplessly surrounded, a beam descended upon me and I was drawn into their ship. It was the last thing I remembered before waking up in a paradise.

“More fruit?” a stunning beauty asked, brushing her long brunette hair away to expose her perfectly toned body. I knew her name – Sophia. In my solitude, I would have settled for an old hag, even a robot for company, and Sophia was more striking than any woman I’d ever seen. There were dozens just like her, men too – just as perfect, just as fit, rescued from around the galaxy and brought to this utopia. Our caretakers groomed us gently to ensure our fitness, lacing our food with androgens and even limiting our clothing to encourage breeding. I’d gone from enduring hell to tolerating heaven, though their sinister purpose never left my mind.

“Leave me be,” I sulked into a pillow, remembering that I couldn’t even kill myself.

“Mr. Bishop, please try to relax. We must rebuild your species,” a familiar voice whispered in my head.

“Perhaps you’d like more than fruit, then,” Sophia teased, pressing herself in. Too aroused, I welcomed her eager caress.