I had spent the night on the floor in restlessly, fading in and out as exhaustion tried to take me and anxiety kept me awake. Daylight poured through the window, where I’d left the curtains open to look at the stars. I got up. My back was stiff, and I had some papers stuck to my legs. I gathered my papers and put them away in my suitcase, except for the picture of Cypher. I placed it on my desk and fed Earl his renal care food. He ate with vigor; it was so good to see him doing better. I stroked his back while he ate, and he moved away from my hand and sat on the other side of his bowl, stuffing his face.
I made a pot of coffee. I watched the machine brew the brown liquid in a daze. I watched each delicious drop fall into the carafe below. I could smell the aroma of the roasted beans rising into the air. I poured the coffee into my favorite green mug, which I’d got from Perk and Grind. They had a wall of handmade mugs, and I’d been feeling especially frivolous and decided to pay forty dollars for a glazed kiln-fired green mug that reminded me of the sea. I used the mug every day and would trace my hands along the rippled clay exterior, feeling the warmth soothe my aching hands from hours of typing.
I took slices of rye bread out of the brown paper bag and inserted them into my toaster, filling the air with the smell of warm bread to accompany the coffee scent. I spread a thin layer of butter on each piece and sat down at my table facing the open window. Earl, now finished with his meal, jumped up on the table and watched the birds outside with me. They would fly in unison, a display of harmony using innate sensory systems that detected the movement of the flock and adjusted flawlessly in a wave of feathers and beauty. Some would break away and land near my window, pecking at the seeds left out for them. They would hop, bounce, eat, and flutter. Earl would lower himself against the table, flattening himself like an experienced hunter. His ears would lay flat, while his pupils would dilate, and he would chirp and chatter at the birds on the other side of the glass.
I finished my breakfast and put my dishes in the sink. Earl had settled onto my bed, bored with watching the uncatchable birds. I looked at the time and paced my floor, hearing a creak when I would hit a loose slat and the monotonous ticking of my wall clock. It was now 2:50 p.m., and I breathed deeply and sat at my computer. I opened the program and hovered my mouse over “run”. I looked at the picture of Cypher on my desk and breathed again. Three p.m. struck, and after some time, a loud boom was heard, even though Red Fall’s underground rocket silo was far away; sonic booms can travel over fifty miles. I heard air strike alarms squeal and howl through the air. I heard dogs barking. I hovered my finger over the mouse and waited. My hand was trembling. The sirens wailed outside. I pressed “run”; the program whizzed to life. I entered Red Fall's main computer and saw the countdown for the genocide machine: two hours until detonation. I bypassed their computer with ease as the ChronoSavior program burrowed through their network, severing connections and overriding the system. It washed over every command, initiating an abort sequence as it reversed into the safety protocol and instructed the antidote to release, eradicating the disease at its core.
I ran to the window as the ChronoSavior tore apart the genocide directive and saw the rocket ascending from Earth’s gravitational influence. “Fuck you!” I screamed out my window. “Fuck Red Fall!” I fell to my knees in joyous tears. I went back to my computer and saw the ChronoSavior program had run successfully. It was a triumphant victory, but I could not help thinking of Cypher on that rocket hurtling out of my life forever. I picked up Earl, waking him from his slumber, and cuddled him as he struggled to break free. "We did it, we did it!" I cheered. It seemed so surreal to think it was all over. The late-night news reported on the rocket’s departure and the presence of military officials at the Red Fall Facility tearing it apart behind yellow police tape. Over the next several days, information was leaked about the intentions of Red Fall, and a memorial was set up in memory of Elysia, the brave soul who had tried to warn humanity.
I had taken a job at another publisher as a column writer and the job at the church as grounds caretaker. I went to church every Sunday, and Daniel and I tended to the roses after he was out of school. I taught him how to trim the dead buds and nourish the soil. Earl's health prognosis looked good; he just had to continue the medical food to stop any flare-ups.
Several months had passed, and it was now summer. The roses were flourishing in full bloom, and the church was holding a picnic luncheon to celebrate the garden's rebirth. I wore my vintage blue dress for the occasion and helped Daniel lay out the refreshments: delicate little cakes and cookies made by the elders, a large bowl of summer punch made by Mrs. Chadsworth, and some sandwiches brought in by me. Butterflies floated around kissing the blooms, and everyone was chatting. Daniel ran around with some of the kids playing tag, and I watched with a smile. I sat down on the bench near where I had first found the roses. I held a glass of punch in my hands and sat back, enjoying life.
A hand touched my shoulder. I turned around and could not believe it. It was Cypher. He told me Red Fall had refused to take his mother on the mission as she was not vital to the cause, and they’d kicked her out of the facility. Cypher had expressed his outrage and resigned on the spot. They’d just laughed at his decision and said he could join her to rot with the rest of the useless people. He had fled the scene quickly as the launch was imminent. He’d then taken his mother to Neo Vista Alpha and got her settled into an apartment with care nurses. He got himself an apartment nearby. Although Red Fall was a bunch of bastards, they’d paid well, and Cypher was sitting on a small fortune at this point. He was sorry he had not contacted me sooner, but he’d had to lie low and get a new identity as his name was still on Red Fall’s files. He'd changed his name to Lazarus as it meant someone who had been resurrected. He felt it was fitting. I said I was not going to call him that and punched his arm. I wanted to ask him about his last message, but I knew what he had said. I knew it the moment he’d come back. “I love you.”
What a brilliant, cozy ending!