More than Human

He dreamed of a nebula. Amethyst and azure; chartreuse and cinnamon; slate and rose; marigold and alabaster... Colors indefinable swirled together and apart. Energized particles danced the classic

dance as old as time - or at least as old as time in this universe.

Planet formation played out in hyper speed before Oliver's eyes as he floated weightlessly in a fantasy. No breath came, but he was okay with that - for who needed to breathe to witness creation? He witnessed what none but God had ever seen, and he wished it were really happening.

He knew this was a dream - and that's how he was where he was, in the far reaches of the universe, nearly as far from his home as he could possibly get. But time and space didn't matter in the dreams. The universe spun around him while he watched in awe. He had no way of knowing if this was what it was really like, of course, but he had no reason to believe that it wasn't, either.

He snapped awake to the retreating gong of a severe thunderclap with the image of star light imprinted on his mind. Thoughts swirled through his mind unhindered, like the first bits of matter plummeting across the void, dragging space-time along behind it like an excited child pulling his

parents by the hands across the fair grounds to the next carnival ride. He lay still for a long time, allowing the flow of information and assumptions and experiences and memories find a rhythm within the space in which they resided. He thought of childhood and death and meaning and morality and good and evil and all that he'd done and all that he'd failed to do.

Eventually, as always, his mind began to settle down and he rose from his bed to the continued rolling thunder and flashing lightning. His warm, bare feet enjoyed the coolness of the hardwood floors. He walked into the kitchen and stood before a small flat screen on the countertop in his

nightly garb, which consisted of only his boxer briefs. He hit the power button on the machine and stood back, stretching his muscular physique and gaining just a little more ground on the journey toward being fully awake. As always, his internal alarm clock woke him up right at five o'clock in the

morning, which was a good time for a cup of black coffee. He reached over and hit the

brew button.

The sound of hot coffee filling the pot, part of his morning ritual, was background music to the brokenness of modernity that was being played out in full horror on the television screen. This, probably the last broadcast on the planet, continually showed the carnage across the Earth from

still functioning satellites, traffic cameras, footage sent in by those left alive, aimlessly wandering. He liked to call it ZTV, on account of it being all about Zs, a term that had been popularized on social media in the days before it got really bad.

After all, what else was there to report on? There weren't any political schemes to cover, or wars to document, or crimes to cry over - not anymore. The only thing left to focus on was survival, and he was damn good at that, especially since his gifts had developed.

He didn't know how it had happened, though God knew that he'd spent long enough trying to deduce the answer to that mystery. The best he could come up with was that it had something to do with necessity. He'd needed it. Or more accurately - humanity needed it, in order to survive.

Why it had been him instead of someone else he didn't know. Maybe it had been someone else as well. Visions of a world in which only people like him existed floated through his mind. He felt neither good nor bad about it. He just watched the scenes in his mind play out without judgment,

simply wondering what that world would look like. It seemed a world of unmatched possibility to him.

Before the outbreak he'd seen his own path fan out into a thousand with the development of his gifts. No obstacle seemed insurmountable; no target unobtainable. He knew that if he played his cards correctly then he'd have the masses eating out of the palm of his hand. He'd be rich and

famous and powerful. He'd been raised to be humble, to be happy with what he had and to work his ass off for a better life. He'd done that for years, trying to claw his way away from his roots, all to no avail. He'd all but given up and resigned himself to a life of quiet humility before, suddenly,

he was capable of feats he'd never even imagined before.

He knew he hadn't actually developed these powers before the outbreak - it was just that he became aware the former before hearing of the latter. But his body knew what was coming; his spirit understood. So, he enjoyed his abilities for all of a day before the dead were at his doorstep. It was uncanny, that it happened right when he'd need it most. It had to be some type of genetic mutation responding to an existential threat.

He was no scientist or philosopher or theologian, so he knew not the finer points of what that

actually meant, but it made some sense out of the insanity of the death of humanity. Just when they'd been on the brink of total annihilation, he, and possibly others too, had developed gifts that would all but ensure their survival. He'd yet to come across anyone that could do what he could do,

but he had a strong feeling in his gut that they were out there, somewhere.

And so, for one day he'd dreamed of ruling the world in power and glory. He found it ironic that his first foray into pride ended abruptly in the destruction of nearly all human life on the planet. Of course, he knew that it wasn't some divine retribution for his sins, but the thought had crossed

his mind. Now he was back to his old self, kind of. He had lost most, if not all, of the delusions of grandeur and felt fairly normal. Utilizing the gifts gave him a rush like no other though, and that was ever so slightly addictive.

All these things floated through his head, and not for the first time, as he watched the horror story play out on the screen before him. Uncensored footage showed the stuff of nightmares across the world. A series of soft beeps sounded, letting him know the coffee was ready to be poured. He

grabbed a mug out of the cabinet behind him and filled it with his favorite drink. He thought of the stuff as his fuel. It was also a reminder of all that had been taken. He'd considered giving up drinking it to stop the memories that inevitably flooded his mind when that first sip touched his

lips, but he'd be weak if he did that just to dull the pain. Pain was good, and the memories were all he had left of those lost.

His eyes flicked from the pitch-black substance back to the television screen just in time to see a glint. He stepped closer to it. He'd been waiting and watching for days to see if what he'd seen

then was real or just his imagination. He couldn't deny what was right before his eyes, though.

He'd replayed that video clip countless times in the days since he'd originally seen the thing.There. His eyes caught the movement again as the street camera, located in London according to the text at the bottom of the screen, panned left, clearly catching sight of that which he couldn't deny yet didn't want to believe. It was a replacement.

When he first learned of the diZease, Oliver had momentarily wondered how it would affect the "reps," but he didn't have the time or mental strength to worry about it too much then. It had taken days to find a place he felt safe enough to stay, and for that time he wasn't worried about anything else but survival. He'd had a chance to breathe and to think since he'd been in this house hidden

away in Arizona's high country. He'd had time to see what was going on around the world, and in all those days this was only the second time he'd seen a glimpse of a rep on camera.

He wasn't sure if the rep's appearance was intentional or accidental, but there it was as clear as the clear blue sky. The bastard's fabricated body reflected the late-morning English sun, creating a light show that would have blinded Oliver if he'd been looking directly at the thing and not viewing it on a screen.

There didn't appear to be any flesh left on the body. In fact, it looked like something

straight out of a movie. Only its eyes would look human, now. Not that they were actually the only bits of humanity left in the things, of course; most of their internal organs were still

very much made of human flesh, but those organs were now encased in a completely solid next-gen body made of an alloy stronger than anything else on the planet.

Oliver was mildly interested in where the stuff had come from, but the company that created the material, Miraido Tech, very jealously guarded that secret. Not even the US government

had been able to threaten them strongly enough to get them to fork over the information. The eyes, however, were the only internal parts that could be seen by others, so they had

to look real, just like the synthetic skin that had been stretched across the metal alloy body, in order for the reps to blend in to normal society, even if that look was a lie.

Of course, they hated the term "replacements;" they saw it as an insult. They viewed themselves as better than mere humans, as if they were on the road to godhood while the rest of humanity looked on in awe.

Oliver looked on in disgust. He'd even gone so far as to purchase a specially

made smart watch, one of many similar devices made by those who saw tech as a great servant but a horrible master, at great expense, just so that when one of them was near he would be alerted. He'd long since discarded it, or course.

Tech had mostly experienced a cascading failure since Day Zero, and his tech was no exception. He wanted nothing to do with reps and so very much didn't give a shit if they liked that term or not. They, like many others, were among those ever perpetuating the idea that the Western world was inherently racist and evil, and that the only way to do away with these "toxic ideologies" they claimed were so prevalent was to transcend human limitation. They thought ridding themselves of their biological bodies was the way to a better future. It was well known that they were on the road to one day merge human consciousness with AI. The replacement bodies, though, were viewed by them to be an "in between" of sorts.

The underlying issue there, well really it was one among several, was that they neglected the human spirit. Sure, mankind needed to build a good future for succeeding generations, and there were many real obstacles to ensuring the future success of the human race, but any solution that

completely neglected the strongest and most pure aspect of man was not only doomed to fail, but in Oliver's eyes it was abhorrent.

The more-machine-than-man stood still, looking at something off in the distance behind the camera. Oliver didn't know how many, if any, others were watching this, but he hoped that someone out there was seeing it. If these things were in London, then they were undoubtedly in the States too.

He knew that the diZease was a human one, or at least that's what the news said originally. They'd reported that whatever the original cause was affected humans and humans alone. That meant, at least Oliver thought it should mean, it could still affect the reps since much of them was

still human. However, he'd had an epiphany after seeing the glimpse of one on screen the first time: their brains interfaced directly with an artificial intelligence that was created solely for the purpose of increasing man's cognitive abilities. It wasn't a full-on merging of their minds with AI,

like what they hoped to accomplish, but it was similar. Becoming a rep meant being fully connected - to everything.

Well, at least everything that was on the surface web. Most of the internet was much deeper than the surface, deeper than social media and popular search engines. But still, if the diZease affected the minds of the reps, and they were in turn directly able to interface with the internet, was the web itself infected?

Oliver had no idea if such a thing was even possible. Could a virus - or whatever this zombie thing was - affect both biology and technology? It was a terrifying prospect. He took a sip of his coffee as, suddenly, the replacement on the screen disappeared from view. The camera had panned back

to the right, cutting off Oliver's view of the thing.

He was going to wait until the camera made another sweep, but the broadcast changed then from that London street to freeway traffic camera in Dallas. If the sight of the replacement in London set Oliver on edge, this new view hurled him over it. A torrent of rotting bodies, thousands of them, streamed steadily northward on camera.

They filled the freeway completely and stretched into the distance further than the camera could see. What in the hell was this?

He'd been watching this broadcast and the various cameras and clips uploaded from those still living at the time since he'd found this house, yet what he was seeing now was completely new to him. Innumerable Zs marched together in a single direction. Zs didn't move like this. Why would they? Something or someone had to be behind this; had to be somehow driving them to group up and move like this, but what could it possibly be?

Oliver watched the screen until the remainder of his coffee grew cold, when the stream

switched to a different camera in another location. This time it was New York City. An ATM security camera in Time Square itself caught another, similar grouping of Zs heading down the street together. These were moving west, though.

That gave him a general idea of where they were headed, at least. If the previous group was moving north, and this one west, their trajectories would cross eventually, and that would be where the source of this strange behavior could be found. He still didn't know exactly what had caused

everything to go down the way it had. The news had offered very little before it went offline, which was at around noon on Day 2 of the New World.

That's how he thought of it anyway. Of course, his use of "the New World" didn't have the grand connotations that it did several centuries ago, but it would do. Now, Day 27, it seemed that things were beginning to change. His curiosity was piqued, and he already found himself considering a journey. He'd been practicing in the surrounding mountains with his abilities for weeks and

realized then just how excited he was at the prospect of being able to use his power in earnest.

He'd certainly be able to find and deal with whatever this was easily enough. He went to turn the television off, but just before his finger touched the power button, as if some divine synchronicity was playing out before him, he saw something that made his heart leap for joy. The screen was now showing a live camera feed from somewhere in Tokyo. A lone figure in dark clothing strode purposefully down a street packed with Zs.

Oliver's eyes went wide as he watched the monsters suddenly fly up against the building walls on either side of the city road. The man was using psychic abilities!

"I knew I wasn't alone!" he yelled into the otherwise empty mountain home.

Oliver felt torn, then. He wanted badly to go to Tokyo right then and seek this man out, after

all he could be there fairly quickly, but knew it was more pressing that he find whatever was causing the Zs to group up like they were. He knew for a fact now there were other people still alive, but he couldn't go searching for them while such a real and present threat was out there.

Even so, the faster he figured out that problem, the faster he could find the survivors, like the man in Tokyo. Untempered excitement made his heart race a little faster than normal as Oliver began preparing for a flight.