It Starts with an Earthquake

Fiction

You Only Die Once

Chapter One: It Starts with an Earthquake

The earthquake struck at 2:34 in the morning in some far-off country Sheldon wasn’t entirely convinced was a real place and not just an elaborate con by geographers. Lemuria, or maybe Liplodia. Or nearby Diplodia. He heard about it on the 6 AM news while drinking his morning coffee–scientists had recently determined that the net health benefits of coffee outweighed its downsides, so he drank the recommended one cup a day of bitterness.

The pink-haired news anchor began weeping beautiful tears as footage of children being pulled from Diplodica’s ruins rolled in. “With the Aplodican hospital system overloaded and little hope for the people still buried in the wreckage, officials estimate the death toll will top a million by nightfall. 15 million people are now homeless; 45 million have no water or electricity. 10 million children–” 

Sheldon flicked off the news. Emotional distress was bad for the heart. He was surprised they even let humans report the news anymore, given that they’d developed perfectly good robots who could analyze the news for them without incurring any stress.

The TV flicked itself back on. Of course. It was set to deliver 30 minutes of news a day, because the politically aware live longer than the politically unaware. Well, that didn’t count during a disaster, did it? He flicked it off again.

It turned back on.

Sheldon turned away to begin preparing his perfectly balanced nutritional breakfast while the pretty news anchor wept over the fate of Alodica’s orphans.

The news mercifully winked off as a call came in. His grandmother’s face replaced the pretty news anchor’s. “Have you heard the news?”

“Yes, Gram.” Sheldon quickly switched off the fox-girl filter. It just looked weird on his grandmother.

“15 million children without homes, can you imagine?” Her eyes looked red.

“Yes, Gram.” He drank his nutritional slurry. “Try not to worry about it. You know worrying isn’t good for your heart–”

“Don’t tell me about my heart,” she snapped. “Go call Minister Graham. He’s your representative. I’ve already texted you the information. Tell him you support Proposition 1452 for the immediate aid and relief of Laodicans, no, demand that he immediately support Proposition 14–”

“Gram, it’s okay. Calm down.”

“Young man, I will not calm down until you promise me that you will not just let those poor children suffer–”

“All right, all right. I’ll write to the Minister. Have you had your vitamins?”

“Yes of course.” She frowned in annoyance. “I’m not five, you know.”

“Yes, you’re 85 years old and as you know–”

“Just call the Minister before those children die, young man. It’s your duty.” The screen went black.

 

 

Chapter 2: Birds and Snakes and Aeroplanes

After a murderous quantity of dickering in the Senatorial House (Minister Graham was concerned about inadequate health funding for the nation’s hospitals), the first airplane load of Laostitian orphans arrived to universal applause. The cheering crowds waved banners with “We love you” written in a dozen languages (hopefully whatever language the Blaostatians spoke was among them, but no one seemed really sure) as each child disembarked. Sheldon watched the festivities remotely, because crowds were dangerous to your health. He expected the government to move in quickly to break up such a large gathering, but the police were oddly missing.

As each child was processed, stamped, and passed to a waiting family that had volunteered to foster the newcomers, Sheldon felt an unusual sensation in his chest. At first he thought it was the coffee affecting his heart, but after the screen switched to a live feed of the pretty news anchor hugging orphans, he realized it was something else: pride. His society had done something good. He had done something good. These children would have great lives.

***

I will post more when I have written more.