This story is part of Imagine 2200: Climate Fiction for Future Ancestors, a climate-fiction contest from Fix. Learn more about the power of imagination in Fix’s Climate Fiction Issue.
* * *The Common Wasp
The last wasp ate itself to death in the middle of a fig. It was happy.The Human
It was a kind of salve to the spirit, a bit of anesthetic applied to the extreme trauma of being the last of your line. I felt it immediately, the very second I became the last human alive. A sideways stretch of the mind, immediate access to the final moments of every other extinct species. It meant, of course, that we weren’t alone. Even though we’d soon be gone, this was proof that there was, indeed, someone or something in charge. Something watching out for us all. Or at least watching us all.
Accessing it is a bit like one of those old-fashioned electronic devices. I had to sort of scan leftward with my mind to get to the next species, though it worked in tandem with my own imagination. If I could think of the creature itself — the last aardvark, for instance — I could zip right to it... Read more