Something Else

Euphoria

The year was 2090 and Earth was finally pure.

It was no small accomplishment. Despite our previous assumptions, the takeover of Earth still posed many challenges. The climate, for example. Its previous occupants had left the place in a terrible state of disarray. They grew and "advanced", prioritizing their own happiness over the planet that housed them. Through years and years of axing away at the ozone layer and pouring their waste into their oceans, the ever-growing poison of humankind created their own apocalypse. They weren't kind to the world around them, they weren't even kind to each other. Constantly locked in fights and wars, their aggressive instinct was uncontrollable. In fact, getting rid of them was the very first decision we made as a species, unanimous.

Humans had to go.

Now don't consider us a heartless race. While humankind's destruction was objectively necessary, some parts of their culture were mourned greatly.

Take their art, for instance. They composed enchantments, genius melodies that could break your heart in two. They wrote riveting literature, tales of bravery and weakness, love and pain. On their walls they painted miracles, colors and feelings all blurred into one.

We destroyed them all.

All of them began with humans, and all of them would end there. After all, lovely as a killer's songs may be, they will never raise the dead. We were sad to banish such a unique form of expression, but we knew the safest way to distinguish ourselves from our predecessors was to reject all parts of their bloodied culture, even those that appeared harmless. Art is the product of a wandering mind, and a wandering mind turns to evil more often than good.

While the reign of humankind was short and violent, their downfall was unforgettable. They clung to the Earth like moths to a flame, corrupting it to the core. Through some unfathomable resilience, they survived raid after raid, holding on as their cities burned before them. They never gave up, even as their numbers shrank beyond repair. They fought even when the war was won.

After all, humans were flawed, and our invasion?

Flawless.

Welcome all, to the city of Euphoria, where the azure skies are bright and free from humanity's curse. Once, when the war was still raging, when the sun had fled and the oceans burned with scarlet oil, the sky had been another color. Those times were dark and vile, but as the sun set on the human race, a new successor plucked the world from their dying hands.

Welcome all, to the perfect world, the world of the Levorians.

Apologies.

Look at me, rambling on. I've always been a sucker for dramatic speeches, even the most dishonest ones. The truth is, about three months ago, I would have meant it all. I believed in our cause that much. Now, my mind has been tainted, swayed by experience and discovery.

I am here to tell you a story. It's not a long story, nor a happy one. There is no sparkling resolution waiting to be read.

This is a story of truth.

I don't expect it to change your mind like it changed mine, but if it makes you look up, think, for even one second, that will be enough. That will be hope.

This is the story of the last human being.