4. The Human Virus

Tibre didn’t want to give up. Of course not. The most important property of life is that it tries to keep living. Thus he dragged himself from his cave to play a game with his children—but he couldn’t find them anywhere.

Only Piponre paced back and forth between the caves.

“Hey puckle,” said Tibre. He grabbed his son for some playful wrestling, but Piponre only wrestled himself loose and kept walking. “In for a game of Rockball? Or maybe hide—”

“No, dad.”

“Where are your siblings? Then we’ll play together—”

“I have to find food. You know, ever since your amazing storage was destroyed by a spaceship. I’m dizzy from the hunger, dad.”

Tibre grabbed his wrist. “Do you have something against your own family?”

“No! Your children are with Jassia, listening to another dreamy story.”

“Then we go to her.”

“No! I—”

“What do you have against Jassia? She has always been nice to y—”

Piponre went red. Not of anger, but of … shame? He looked nervous and walked away.

“What’s going on with you, puckle?”

“I grew up,” mumbled Piponre, after which he fled through the trees.

Rain came down with a vengeance. Multiple cave entrances had already buckled under the weight, while they had to scoop away the water flooding the home cave. His son didn’t mind, seemingly, but Tibre himself shivered in the cold and wished for a thousand animal skins to cover him.

Tibre, indeed, found his offspring with Jassia. She spoke with an entrancing smile and wild gestures, stirring up the gullible children even more. He hadn’t seen her this happy in a while, and he hoped she’d figured things out with her husband.

“I went back to the Linecave with Piponre and carried the lightbulb back home. If you turn them off, and wait a bit, they start to play memories!”

She stepped away and showed the memory inside this lamp.

Not one spaceship, not two, but hundreds. They zipped past each other like dancing firebirds, followed by gray smoke and colored flashlights. Sometimes a flash of light hit another bird, and then the vehicle would crash. And all of that in a grim silence.

Tibre could pick out different ship designs. They were like animals: every species had roughly the same face, limbs, and fur. Or, in this case, the same ship design, wings, and colors. This fight wasn’t between two animal species, no, but between at least five.

The memory moved to the interior of a ship. One of the largest. It didn’t join the fight and had to be protected by the others. Families sat on the ground, cowering in corners, hiding behind pillars.

At least, that’s what Tibre thought. He wasn’t sure if they were families, for they weren’t humans. They resembled dog-like creatures that could also walk on two legs.

A flash of light hit the large window behind them. In one instant, less than the blink of an eye, all the families had died and the spaceship split in two. They hadn’t even had a warning or a period to save themselves.

The attacker flew over the rubble some time later. The shots came from a ship with the letters CAJARA engraved into its hull. It was steered by a human, clearly. She smiled at the destruction and screamed commands into a black device.

Until another flash of light shot that spaceship out from the stars too.

Fast forward. The memory showed emptiness. A large black hole that ate the rubble and the dead bodies. This space battle could not have had many survivors. The only beacon of hope, literally, was a lightbulb that floated through the dust. The memory showed someone placing the lamp and turning it on, but cut off before they could see who.

Well, that was a big disappointment. Humans were some sort of … virus that killed other animal species, happily destroyed them in space battles.

“So humans are everywhere in the galaxy!” yelled Jassia with enthusiasm. “And some are already space travelers! Oh, I really hope we invent whatever they invented. And then we’ll follow their lead!”

The ground shook once more. Several seconds later, someone entered the cave to say that another lightbulb had landed.

“Come come,” said Jassia to the children. “Go and find food, then come back tonight to study the memory inside that new lightbulb!”

They ran from the cave as they cheerfully discussed what the new memory could be.

Tibre and Jassia visited the new lightbulb.

They discovered a few more statues along the way. This one was the likeness of Zandir with his spear, in some heroic pose, surrounded by leaves and nuts. Five burning twigs created a campfire near it.

And around that campfire sat a dozen animals. Eyes closed, head down, they seemed to pray. The rabbit, whom Jassia had accidentally patted, stepped forward to lead the prayer by squeaking and grinding her teeth.

When they reached the new lightbulb, Tibre coughed loudly.

“Thanks, erm, for entertaining my children,” he said. “You don’t have to do this. I can do it myself, you know.”

“It helps them forget how hungry they are,” mumbled Jassia. She shot Tibre an accusatory stare. “And their father loudly saying how much he gives up.”

She threw the lightbulb in his arms.

“Here. Bring this one to my workplace. Take out the battery.”

“What … what are you going to do?”

“No, you have to keep doing stuff. And, erm, I have other plans tonight.”

“Don’t go out alone, eh?” said Tibre. “Those mysterious footprints …”

Jassia played with her hair. She straightened her animal skin, then pulled it loose again, then straight again.

“Don’t worry about that. You saw the memory: if it was a spaceship that landed here, and they intend to do us harm, well, well, then one flash of light would be enough! All that you can do is discover how to build such advanced inventions ourselves. And quickly.”

“And what then?” asked Tibre, as Jassia already left. “Take the skies with our advanced spaceship, only to be mowed down by CAJARA anyway? It’s all meaningless! Everything that you build will fade away! Everything we—”

She was already gone.

He took the lightbulb back, shaking his head all the way. He did as Jassia asked, and indeed, as soon as the light faded, they could look into the lightbulb and see the moving drawings again.

All his children wanted a look. He’d hoped Piponre would grow curious and be with thim, but no—that puckle stayed absent. He’d have to give him a lecture about that, once he returned.

The memory showed a magical city, or rather a piece of nature. Wherever you looked, flowers bloomed and the sun shone. Peaceful shrubs showed the way along cute cobblestone paths, which twisted around each other, sometimes went into the air, and sometimes even went underneath a tunnel of trees. The trees were strong, large, and even—was that a face on the tree? Was that tree talking?

His children shuffled closer, as his youngest daughter nervously pinched his hand.

It wasn’t just beautiful. It was also functional: animals of all species walked the paths. Chatting, kissing, arguing, trading. Many wooden stalls lined the roads, alternating with colorful caves dug into the side of hills.

The place beamed life, both through its plants and its animals. Tibre could see himself wander there all day, without a goal, and still be happy. The fresh air, the free nature, the beautiful plants and the pleasant company. The animals all looked like they had more than enough to eat and drink. His children, yes, he could see them play hide-and-seek or Rockball in that place too.

But it was a fairy tale, right? Animals couldn’t talk. Such a place never existed.

He tumbled back into reality. His eyes focused on the dark stones of their caves, and the wet dirt on which they slept.

But it was possible. Somewhere, on other planets, in other ways, beings could live in peace, while certain they had enough to eat. That was an advanced civilization. That was why you worked hard every day, right?

Suddenly Jassia entered into the cave.

“Did your … thing finish early?” asked Tibre.

“My thing was a mistake,” mumbled Jassia. She walked to her bedroom, deeper into the cave, where her husband already slept for hours. “I’m going to bed, good night.”

Tibre only saw the final piece of the memory. The beautiful place had turned into a barren wasteland, burned to a crisp and littered with skeletons. Spears, swords and cannon balls split the dirt. A sabre-tooth tiger stalked the place sadly. A different paw turned on another lightbulb and left it at that place. A place where nothing could live now.

How … how did he know this animal was called a tiger? His memories were the biggest mystery of all.

“I give up,” he mumbled again.

“Why do you say that, dad?” squeaked his youngest daughter. She snuggled up against his warm body, as he gave her two quick kisses on the cheek. “I don’t understand.”

“Hopefully you never have to understand.”

Piponre darkened the entrance. He held two dead rabbits in his hand and a pile of nuts. That was all? After a full day of hunting and gathering?

“It is not much,” his eldest son admitted. “But it’s all the food we have right now.”

“Give all of it to your siblings,” mumbled Tibre. “I never need to eat again.”