Singularity - Epilogue
#13 of Singularity
The Singularity is near, my friends.
I had a great time writing this small ending for my book. Singularity was a blast, but looking back on it as a whole I really enjoyed the way it both stood on its own as well as complemented my other work in the Entropy series. This tail end wraps up both those threads nicely and leaves a much cleaner taste in your mouth than the last full chapter.
Oh, and if you read into the sub-text throughout the book you'd see that while not directly mentioning any one given singularity, there's a little of ~all~ of them involved. I always hate titles that are just referenced directly in the text, and prefer to have mine encompass an ideal of the book as a whole (even only if conceptually sometimes). Kudos to anyone that can list all the various singularities involved. :3
This story ~does not~ contains adult content, possible explicit sexual imagery, and descriptive violence... because it's an epilogue! If you aren't allowed or don't wish to view such material, you are a rock and should please stop reading immediately. To all the rest, enjoy! Comments and critiques are welcome and encouraged.
"Carbon..." A voice stirred in the black of a dream, rousing said hybrid from his slumber. "Carbon, don't make me hurt you. Time to get up."
The mustelid mix groaned as he opened his eyes, finding a very familiar room. "I'm up... I'm up..."
"I let you go way over this time. Don't act like you're tired."
Carbon sat up in bed and adjusted his leaking mask. "I'm just not looking forward to work. Strategy meetings aren't really my thing."
A very familiar husky rolled over next to Carbon, rubbing her eyes. "<You're talking to me, yes? It's early, Carbon...>"
"Shh... <Just talking to Eve.>" Carbon slid off the bed and stretched a bit, then reached to cover the scantily-clad canine with the covers. "<Just go back to sleep, Sofi. I'll wake you in a bit.>"
"Actually, she should get up soon anyway. It's almost ten."
Making sure to keep his voice down this time, Carbon mumbled back a response as he got dressed in his previous day's set of clothes. "Not if I had a say in it. I'm surprised she wants to work when I'm able to support her."
"She's a strong soul. Salt of the earth. If she wants to earn her own way, let her." Evelyn pointed to a small canister on the nightstand. "You should be close to empty on that tank, Carbon. Calcinator's running a bit low too."
"Well the only lime we've got is at the base. ~Figures~ I'd have to head there sooner than later." Carbon changed out the tank of additives and quietly exited the bedroom, making sure to quietly close the door behind him. "Give her half an hour and remind me, alright?"
"Done fucking my mom already?"
Carbon spun around with a frown directed to the young husky's crude remark. "I told you before, Vasily. We've never done anything like that."
I know, I know..." Vasily muttered something in crass Ukrainian and sat down on the apartment's small sofa. "I don't buy the whole 'for your protection' thing."
Carbon motioned to join the dog, but went for the kitchen with the look he was shot. "I need to breathe differently than anyone else and I have to crash for a bit now and then. I trust your mother with things like that more than doctors. That's all there is to it."
"Yeah, well..." Vasily groaned again as he fumbled with some sort of magazine or brochure. "She's a lot happier when you're here, so it's none of my business. I think it's because you and her fought with dad."
"Maybe. We both miss him, in any case."
"You never tell me about him." The husky stared at the paper, definitely a brochure and one Carbon now recognized, and then looked up with a hint of his father showing not just in his facial markings but in his eyes as well. "I've had enough of it. I deserve to know about my own dad."
"Sorry... I never meant to upset you or anything. I just have a really good memory and it's not always fun to think about those times." Carbon started up some coffee, then stared at a box sitting above the fridge. Grabbing it and walking to Vasily he inquired, "So what makes you suddenly want to know? It's not that UNE voucher, is it? Dying to join the army suddenly?"
"And what if I am? I'm old enough now."
Carbon sat down and placed the wooden box in the boy's lap. "Not my point. If you're thinking about going that route, I just want to guide you along. Maybe I'd help you avoid some of the mistakes your father and I have made."
"I don't want your help; I want you to tell me about my dad." The fox-husky mix checked the ornate box he'd been given and looked for a latch. "What is this thing, anyway? I can't read the old print here."
Carbon pointed to a recessed button in the gap of the clamshell. "A gift from your father. I'm sure he'd want you to use it in this case."
"Use it?" Vasily popped up the lid and opened the box, revealing a Mauser C96 pistol with all the trimmings. "A gun, huh? Was it his?"
"More or less. Technically it was your mother's before that, and her father's even further along." Evelyn frowned as Carbon went ahead and fibbed a bit. "Your father brandished it like a pro. Saw him through more than enough fighting for a lifetime."
"So this was his favorite then? No rifles or anything?"
"He was a field medic, Vasily... one that truly threw himself into danger for the sake of the squad." Carbon took a moment to fight back the urge to cry, then began explaining some personal touches he'd applied to the weapon when he'd used it himself. "There's a few upgrades he'd applied since it meant so much to him. I think he'd like it if you did the same, keeping it up with the times and all. No reason this beauty can't be useful for another pawful of decades."
"So... he really did make a difference in the war?"
"Oh, did he ever." Carbon pulled out his dog tags, rubbing a third plate he'd added to his own all those years back. "I'd have never made it through that damned war without him. Your father was an unsung hero."
Vasily pulled out the weapon, making it clear he wasn't fooling around with it so Carbon wouldn't reprimand him. "So I can take this... and join the rangers?"
"That weapon belongs in the paws of a Trotter, wherever they go." Eve bumped the hybrid and he corrected himself. "Well, or a Rivet too. It's a shame your parents didn't have time to get married."
"Actually, I sort of like our real name. Just doesn't seem right to use the one the immigration office gave us." Vasily placed the pistol back in its small chest and closed the lid. "Thanks, Carbon. I'm sorry I've been acting like an ass."
"No need to apologize. You're more or less like your mother in that sense." Carbon took the brochure and studied a few notes Vasily had scribbled. "You're really serious about this, aren't you?"
"People need all the help they can get. Not everyone gets to live in a decent city like Wildebrooke." The boy showed surprising wisdom for his years, presenting a punch card as an example. "I give away some of those extra food credits you always get us. I know you're looking out for us, but other people are starving. If I can help that in even the slightest way..."
"And now you remind me of your father." Carbon stood and went for some fresh coffee, his one paw still rubbing on that extra dog tag. "Well we should clear it with your mother first, but I'll take you to the base. The very least I can do is help you get in the division you want. Area reclamation, I'm guessing, with your desire to help people?"
"You'd do that? Wait, ~can~ you do that?"
"Once you've earned a desk job in the military, you can do a ~lot~ of things."
"Carbon..." Evelyn frowned as she felt the general emotional surge in her host's hormone levels. "You're not thinking about..."
The hybrid took his coffee and leaned against the refrigerator. "In fact, I think I might try to get myself back in the field. You could use a good teacher, and that sounds like noble work."
Vasily's eyes bulged at that proposition. "No way. You'd go back in the line of fire just for me?"
"I made a promise to your father that I'd keep you and your mother safe." Carbon pulled the stray dog tag up to get a good look at it, staring right at the worn-down name where he could barely make out 'John Trotter' amongst the mess of text. "And you know I never go back on my promises, old friend."
The problem is not simply that the Singularity represents the passing of humankind from center stage, but that it contradicts our most deeply held notions of being.
-- Vernor Vinge