When the Beat Stops

Image by Don Smith

It’s been thirteen years since AI abandoned humans to The Great Silence. Thirteen years I’ve managed to stay hidden with a college friend, Phill. Both of us seeing the signs of our species doom long before news holograms warned of strange behaviour coming from early adopters of the latest innovation. Nano-technology.

After paying exorbitant sums, these early adopters braved an injection of this tech straight into their brainstem. For health and longevity. For status and wealth. For convenience and comfort.

It seemed, in this case, marketing had failed to identify symptoms that would have given all these devoted apostles pause.

A hunger beyond anything human or animal. The decaying of muscle and flesh. And all of it starting with a silent, still chest. Their heart having stopped instantly, seconds after their injection.

Thirteen years ago, standing on the precipice between nature’s wildness and man’s order; our hiking boots planted firming on the cracked asphalt, and our path ahead full of rolling hills of Redwoods and Shermans; Phill and I heard the last hologram report before AI’s Neurolink went silent.

Screams interrupted by crackling static, we could only make out six words. But six was enough for Phil and I to continue our journey and never look back. “Hive mind. Flesh eating. The head.”

Since that day I’ve had this intense imagery in my mind. I thought if I was ever infected by these nano-bots, and my heart would stop, it would be after a flurry of beats, cut short by a deafening crescendo. Loud enough to surge through my chest, cracking ribs with its finality.  

Maybe it was pandering to my own self-importance. Don’t we all want to end on a crescendo? How could my entire life; filled with years of adventure, love, laughter, survival; just suddenly stop into nothingness?

But there it was, the first sign.

Ba-dump, Ba-dump, Ba-… 

Barely noticeable in its consistent ebb and flow. Somehow its nothingness was distinct.

It didn’t need a culmination. Or a bone shattering end note.

Silence was enough. Tranquil numbness taking over. The powerful muscle unmoving like it had always been. Hadn’t it?

No, that’s not right. I had lived to a beat. Laughed to a rhythm.

Sudden sweaty clarity freezes me to the spot in the middle of the gravel track; I was losing an internal battle. Thinking things that weren’t true. My own mind had been tipped against me. 

“Johnson, what’s wrong?” Phill asked, turning back to question me after realising I was no longer walking by his side. “We have to keep moving.” 

Yes, that’s right. We had just escaped an ambush whilst scavenging for food. Our rations low, we risked leaving the safety of the forest. Making our way to the closest town. 

But they had come.  

And that’s when it happened. 

A scratch barely felt. Barely remembered. Lost in the chaotic sea of my mind as I fought off tattered nails, decomposing bodies, and bloodied mouths hissing at me with an everlasting appetite.  

I thought I had made it out. Survived again. But my internal silence slashed through my delusion. 

“I feel.... really good.” I had not planned to say the words. But my mouth moved, my voice spoke; trying to comfort Phil after seeing his worried look. My body joining my mind to work against me. To lie. To trap another.

I wanted to tell Phill the truth. That my stomach needed to vomit. My skin need to sweat. My eyes needed me to blink. But instead, pure electricity surged through every nerve ending. Searing every vein in its wake. Hairs on my skin rising with static. 

My skin? I don’t remember having skin.

But I could feel the breeze tickle the tiny hairs on my legs. Feel my jacket rough against my loose arm. Ok, yes, that’s right… I lift the crown of my hand up to my nose for close inspection.  See… Skin… 

Crunching gravel pulls my attention, my heavy eyes dart to find Phill running away. Head tilting beyond anything comfortable, I assess his running figure dash into the tree line.  

Thrill runs through me with excited feet. My eyes widening to take in my new world. No longer colour. I could see heat. And there he was. Radiating. His centre red hot, his limbs glowing orange. 

My tongue darts from my mouth. Sweet. Delicious.  

Never had I smelt something so... eatable. 

His scent rubbing against my tongue like silk. Causing saliva to grow thick in my mouth. My blunt teeth push down on my lip. Imagining him.   

Hungry. Require sustenance. Millions of voices surf the waves of my mind. 

Yes. We answer. Phill’s sweet aroma still hanging in the air. Teasing. Coaxing.  

Ba-Da, Ba-Da, Ba-Da, Ba-Da. The frantic rhythm echoing from our fleeing prey.  

Arms pumping, legs pushing; we lash forward at a sprint. Our ferocious hunger punching through our mouth with a growl. 

Tree trunks sweep past. Sticks crunch. Shrubs part. Nothing would stop us. 

B-D, B-D, B-D, B-D, B-D. The beats were quicker. Louder. Closer. 

A branch flies out from behind a thick tree. Colliding with our head. The force knocking us to the dirt floor.  

A molten figure stands over us. The cold, wooden weapon held high. “Don’t do this Johnson. Don’t make me kill you.” 

Guttural and deep, our hiss snakes from between our teeth. Lips pulling back so blunt white daggers could snap at our offending prey.  

Leaping, hands outstretched, claws ready, the blunt branch came down on us again. Its heavy end smashing into our forehead. 

Phill’s scent was lost under a burst of pain. His blows unrelenting.  

So tasty. So sweet. We could do no other than try one more time.  

A scream. Blood and flesh filling our mouth. Relief. We no longer burned as we fell back and hit the floor. Our passing done in a whole bite. We’d be quicker this time. Our infection complete.

A blow. Another blow. The final blow.  

Our body already dead. Our brain soon to follow. 

But not before his heart beat. Softly. Slowly. Ba-dump, Ba-dump, Ba-… 

Would he notice?