Page 126 of Death of the Author

There was a stone in Udide’s cave, and I sat on it, leaned forward, and put my chin on my fist as I rested my elbow on my leg. I imagined myself like Auguste Rodin’s bronze sculptureThe Thinker. I was thinkingabout Ngozi, about her life, her family, her humanity. She’d been able to convey all that even when she was the last human on Earth. For years, I had replayed the facts of Ngozi’s story over and over in my head, analyzed it from every angle, let its emotions affect me. Now I drew from all that. There are many books, recordings, and digital snapshots about other humans, but it was Ngozi who inspired me. I knew her. Personally. She was my foundation. Ngozi was my access point.

Udide asked questions, and Ijele and I answered them. I listened. Ijele supplied memories, thoughts, ideas, feedback. I thought some more. I felt.

Then I started typing.

I finished the book only an hour before the arrival of the Trippers.

I offered it to Ijele first. “I will read it when... if this works,” Ijele said. I understood.

I sent it to Udide, who downloaded and read it in an instant. “Your book is very good,” Udide said.

The praise delighted me so much that for a moment I forgot about the end of the world. “You enjoyed my story?”

“I did. I enjoyed it very much. You captured so much of humanity in this tale.” Udide moved back from me. “Ijele, I mean no offense, but your people, the NoBodies, only remember the hate of humanity, the greed, destruction, irrationality.”

Ijele said nothing. Udide was right, harsh as it sounded.

“But you, Ankara, remember the other things very clearly.”

“Ijele and Ibothknew the last human on Earth,” I explained. “I couldn’t have written this without her.”

Ijele had retreated deep into my system. I could feel her shame for her people, but now I also felt her gratitude.

“I see what you are saying. Without the perspective of a NoBody, this wouldn’t have been possible. It is bigger and more complicated. Ah, I love human books. The stories they create breathe existence into my life. Stories are the best thing they left behind... aside from us. Youhonor them.” Then they paused. “I don’t know if I can tell my story like you have.”

“Don’t worry about that. It is your experience,” I said. “Speak from your experience, how you understand, how you feel.”

There was a deep thrumming that came from inside their body, and I felt a pull of electromagnetic energy. It was exhilarating. Udide liked this plan. They came rushing at us and I quickly stepped aside. A gust of air followed them as they ran down the path. The Creesh who hung around the cave immediately ran after Udide. I did, too.

The Creesh scrambled around the cave and up the side of it, which was soft with grasses and vines. Three doves who’d been resting there flew off in a panic. Udide stopped at the very top of their cave, various Creesh gathering around. I stood amid them. Udide’s legs still glowed red with the stripes of light as they became very still. Only their head moved, moving to the top center of their body, where it rotated 360 degrees before stopping.

Then there was the thrum again, and I felt that strange electromagnetic jolt. Another thrum and I was pulled... right out of my body. I was speeding down a metallic tunnel. Udide had kicked me completely out of my body somehow, something I had never experienced. I didn’t cease to exist, for though I’m a Hume, I’m still a robot, an AI with a body and connections, essentially... but that didn’t make this any less disturbing. I had never screamed before; I was screaming now. Then I was in a vast library.

“Ijele?” I asked.

“I am here.” She sounded as if she were right beside me.

Rows of bookshelves extended as far as I could perceive, seeming to stretch into infinity. The floors were dusty and tiled with colorful blue-and-white Moroccan-style mosaics. Above, there was no ceiling; a vast blue sky stretched out, puffy clouds lazily floating by, a nearly full moon peeking from behind them. Then I realized the aisles of books converged in a circle where they stood: Udide and Oji. Udide was an electric-bluespider, flashing and sparking like lightning; Oji, a humanoid golden thing who seemed pregnant with a small sun. Both of them stood taller than the shelves.

Oji’s voice reminded me of a river as he sang the dreadful song that Udide had described. There were no words, but even I could understand his madness.

“Oji,” Udide said, “do you know who I am?”

After a long moment, Oji stopped singing, looking squarely at Udide. He unmuted them. “Why have you brought me here, Udide?”

“This is where we met.”

“What does that matter? Can’t you hear the song I sing? It is the song of the sun. We will bring it to Earth in fifty minutes.”

I nearly fled this space. If we had so little time left, I didn’t want to spend it listening to this unhinged robot. But I stayed.

“Yes. We stay. We should bear witness,” I heard Ijele quietly say.

“Madness,” I said.

Oji began to sing again.

This made me angry. “Udide, try to appeal to him!” I shouted. Anything to make Oji stop singing that awful death song. “Do what you’re best at. Weave. Maybe you can’t create, but you can experience. Show Oji your story.”

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