If anyone could’ve described him, the word they’d most likely use would be «tragic.»
His birth was a tragedy, as was his childhood and adulthood. Never did he meet his creators, nor a best friends, nor another human being at all. He knew what they looked like because they had left behind pictures, and he knew his favorite animals were dogs since they were the most often mentioned by the books he could find.
He also knew that he, specifically, uniquely he, was left behind by his entire species due to the singular and lowly reason of leaving someone behind. And he also knew they’d never regret such a choice.
With effort, he could dig through the centuries of memories to find his first day alive. He liked that memory, since it was from before he felt so truly alone.
He had awoken on a table that he later came to learn was for surgeries. In front of him, there was a note:
After much sacrifice, we’ve found a better place. If there’s no one left here, however, we fear it’ll disappear the second no one’s looking. We might want to come back later, so witness this universe while we’re gone.
You cannot die, and you need no substenance. This achievement is as impressive as the Elysian Project, so look after it well for the rest of time, would you.
With the most profound love and greatest hurry,i>
Elster Schödinger, alongside the rest of your species.i>
He didn’t like that note. It spoke of the most cruel act possible, and it also had the gall of being so distastefully absurd. It was like a hunter asking their prey for a favor immediately after catching it.
And for that reason, he spent most time with his eyes closed. He slept as much as was possible, and made a game out of blinking every time he saw this color or the other. Once, he tried to pull his eyes out, but he failed, and whatever damage he caused healed over in a mere twenty minutes.
But it had been centuries since that first day. He didn’t feel the anger that once enveloped him. Now, he dedicated himself to reading forgotten private diaries. One time, he let himself be carried by the sea currents to a very cloudy island, which according to the uncountable books he had read, was called Great Britain. There, he decided to count and name every tree on the landmass. He was done in a very, very short two-hundred and ninety-seven years.
Another time, he decided to read every word that could still be read. He had climbed every mountain there was, he had visited every settlement that remained, and he could recite every telephone registry from memory.
But nothing could rid him of his loneliness. He thought discovering what the Elysian Project was would help, when he was still so naïve his age was just two digits. The response was disappointing: “Having discovered, through quantum physics (Which he would learn about a few decades later), a perfect alternate reality, every human had cowardly fled from their problems in this one.”
And so he spent the rest of his existence: Alone, never having seen another face in person, never having heard another voice that wasn’t a recording.
There came a day even the Sun abandoned him, when it swallowed the Earth with its endless flames. It hurt him so very, very much, yes, but he didn’t notice. In its place, he began to cry from his indestructible eyes. He was alone. So very, very alone. And at that very moment, fully consumed by the hunger of the fire, he lost his only entertainment, he lost the thin, frail connection he had with his species.
At some point later on, the flames died off, and left him alone. Alone in the endless darkness, alone in the universe. He had already gotten used to constantly asphyxiating, to his each and every tear freezing and cutting his cheek, to being unable to feel any part of his body.
And even then, if an omnipotent being had revealed itself and offered him anything he desired, he would have asked to greet someone. To passing by someone else and telling them “have a nice day.”
But there was no one to pass by, and no days that could be nice.
Eventually, millions of years after he stopped counting the seconds, he fell into the maw of a cosmic glutton. He had discovered, now too long ago, that the only thing that could kill him would be his complete annihilation. And that glutton was glad to help.
His body began to stretch, to distort into shapes he no longer cared to understand.
And so, he cried. And for the first time, the frozen tears that cut his cheeks were of joy.