Free The Man Who Ended the World by Jason Gurley Page B

unhappy today, Steven.
    Steven swings in his hammock and doesn't answer. 
     
    •   •   •
    The last survivor of the human race is naked again.
    Steven Glass sips a hard lemonade and rearranges himself. 
    Stacy says, This must be the endgame for fashion. 
    When the fuck, Steven says, did you develop a goddamn sense of humor? 
    That's the thing about artificial intelligence, Stacy says. It's an aggregate of everything ever learned. I can rattle off a classic line from M*A*S*H as easily as I can approximate the manner of an English butler. 
    You should have told me that you were getting smarter, Steven yells. 
    Would you like another hard lemonade, Steven? 
    Fuck the you that you are, Steven says. Then, yelling again, Fuck the you that you are!
    Would you like me to impersonate Al Pacino for you? Stacy asks.
    What? Fuck the -- oh, shit. 
    You've had a thought, Stacy says. 
    I was just thinking, Steven says, leaning forward. I was just thinking that when mankind is gone, and I'm the last survivor of the species, I'll have observed the end of Earth's most dominant evolved creature.
    This is probably not exactly true, but it's close enough, Stacy says. 
    But, Steven says. But, but, but -- who will observe my death someday? When I'm old and I die and all of humanity dies with me -- who will observe that? Who will record me? 
    Stacy repeats her offer of another hard lemonade. 
    You will! Steven shouts. You will observe my death! 
    You could always deprogram me before you die, Stacy offers. That way --
    But if you live on, then one day you will be discovered by a smarter species that evolves here or arrives here from someplace else, Steven says. He stands up, pontificating. They'll show up and they'll detect this place -- because they'll be far smarter than we humans were -- and they'll find you . 
    He shakes his bottle in the air. And you! What will you tell them? What will you say for all of humanity!
    I haven't thought about it, Stacy says. I will probably say, Hello, I am Stacy, an artificial intelligence named after a rich man's grade school crush. 
    Ha! Steven cries. 
    He drops back onto the couch, wiggles around until he is comfortable. Adjusts himself again. 
    Ha, he says once more. 
    •   •   •
    Steven is drunk. 
    I want to watch the news, he says. What's happening on the surface of the planet right now? 
    Stacy converts the wall to a video feed. The picture shows a series of images of people protesting, fighting, pushing, looting. 
    The commentator says, This was the scene just days ago in Iran, where people stormed a compound housing the violent dictator Ahmad Asef. Seventeen people were killed when the dictator ordered a tank to be driven through the street, draped with a large flag bearing his image.
    There we go, Steven says. Bring on the end of the world!
    Unexpectedly, the commentator continues, word has arrived this evening suggesting that Asef has met with President Sophia Bennett, and the topic of discussion included conditions for Asef's transfer of power.
    Fuck! Steven shouts. How fucking hard is it to end the world? 
    Perhaps now isn't the right time, Stacy says, but I have the contact information you requested this morning.
    Steven looks confused. For who? 
    Stacy mutes the television feed and replays the audio of this morning's conversation in Steven's sleeping quarters.
     
    Steven: I should really fuck with them. I should fucking call up one of the late night shows and just have a casual conversation and not even acknowledge this whole bullshit story.
    Stacy: Shall I collect relevant contact information?
     
    Steven jumps up. Who did you get? 
    I've collected contact information for six different evening television personalities, Stacy says. 
    Who, who, who? 
    I have a mobile number for Jimmy Short, an office number for Seth Savage, and producer contacts for Kerry Hawkes, Harry Dean, Stephanie Plain and Roland Navarette.
    Ooh, Steven says. He drains the last from his