All That's Left

April Hullinger

Dystopian systems are a trope that all of us are aware of. It is often a popular genre that permeates classical fiction. Through my love of stories, I became fascinated by one specific topic: utopic factors that play into a dystopian society. How authors are able to twist the reality of the story by showing things that sound good and productive for a community of people until you begin to think very deeply about them. The main topic I chose to explore in this story was the idea of complete and total happiness from The Euphio Question by Kurt Vonnegut and how it could cloud the minds of those who experienced it.

While I read The Euphio Question, there was one particular part of the story that stuck out to me, and it happens right at the end of the story. The characters are debating in court whether it is humane to mass-produce the Euphio machine, when Lew Harrison (who wishes to mass-produce the machine) turns it on. The quote is as follows: “In fact, it seems to be whirring suspiciously at this very moment, and I'm so happy I could cry. I've got the swellest little kid and the swellest bunch of friends and the swellest old wife in the world.” This particular quote, spoken by the unnamed narrator of the story, still sends shivers down my spine even as I type it. The specific word that sticks out to me is the term “swell”. It feels almost nefarious in this context. Almost dangerous. The story shows our narrator being brainwashed by the machine to exclusively feel “swell” and nothing more beyond it. I find the idea terrifying. I wanted to implement this idea in this story, especially when it comes to looking at society through this lens. The people in this city are almost brainwashed into happiness. Everything in their lives is “swell”. They strive to fill their societal and community role by having children and then allow their lives to end because they have fulfilled their purpose. They die blissfully unaware of the truth.

This leads to the second massive influence for this story: The Allegory of the Cave. My story is kind of a different take on Plato’s work, as the story is told from the perspective of the captors, if we are using terms from Plato’s writings. The perspective is of the creator of this world's dystopia. He unintentionally created everything horrible that happened in the city, but with good intent. One of my favorite lines that I have written throughout this story is in Entry 795X, where the author of the journal says, “It was all necessary. And those cheery voices. Those pretty faces. The LIES WE SPIT. They are a kindness.” This line was initially influenced by one from The Allegory of the Cave. The line “Most people are not just comfortable in their ignorance, but hostile to anyone who points it out,” made me really think about if I learned that I was living a lie and I was content, even happy in it, how would I respond to someone who had told me the truth. Or even vice versa. If I was someone who knew the truth, a horrible truth that would ruin the lives of an entire community, would I be willing to tell them? I personally don’t think that I would. I would be the person that is willing to hold onto the terrible truth right until the bitter end rather than ruining hundreds of lives. That is where my writing comes in. That would be a kindness to the people in my eyes, at least if my mind were as twisted and destroyed as the author’s in my story. He has experienced all of his loved ones dying, the end of the earth as he knew it, and the complete dissection of his own daughter for the betterment of his community. Why would he be willing to destroy it because of his guilt?

The last bit of inspiration I pulled for this piece wasn’t even a book but a movie called Pleasantville. If you have seen the film, it isn’t hard to see that I took inspiration from the time period that the movie was placed in, the 1950s. The homemaker wives, the provider husbands, and the perfect children were just cosmetic things that I was really drawn to when I was younger. As I think back to when I first saw this movie, I really didn’t care for it that much despite how much it should have appealed to me. Honestly, I’m still not very fond of the movie. It had an ending that was too happy and satisfying for the horror all of the characters went through. It felt wrong to me, but only in a sense that my imagination could fix. That is the reason it became such an inspiration for my writing. I started thinking about alternative endings for the film that I would have found more interesting. Something a lot darker and more dystopian than the happy ending everyone gets at the end. An ending where nobody wakes up from the brainwashed, stagnant state that the world is in. A world where things continue on as usual for the collective society, and the only person that knows the truth dies with it.

ALL THAT’S LEFT

Entry XXXX:

The Withering ravaged the Earth.

First, it took the plants. The soil beginning to poison all across the world. Dried, brown leaves scattering across empty roads. The landscape fading to various shades of gray, void of any color that once lined human vision.

Next was life itself. Entire cultures of strange peoples disappeared as towns began to rot and fall apart. Animals lying dead without so much as a scratch. Family members disappearing without a word. Gods and goddesses falling to their knees, breath no longer able to reach their oxygen-deprived lungs. Before I knew it, my daughter and I were all alone in this world. The Withering turned asymmetrical patches of our skin black and green, as though decaying from the inside out. Soon, the Withering would take her life too.

All I had was being threatened, and desperate men make desperate choices.

Entry 4:

They finally work. Our Protectors, large mechanical figures of my own creation. My effort to improve what is left of humanity’s rule. Robots made to care for and protect those of us still alive. They also have a greater purpose. To learn. In my desperate attempt to save humanity, I have created a machine that shares or even exceeds my intellect. These contraptions of metal and motive(or motivation) will never slow as mortal beings do. These idols of pure function are free of our flesh. Free of the complications of illness and conscience. They will find a way to save what remains of humanity in the event that I cannot.

Entry 7:

Protectors are curious creations. They are unburdened by the Withering. Instead, they are almost fascinated by it. They continue to examine the various carcasses we pass on our trek from town to town, a sense of wonderment in their eye-like lenses. As odd as it may be, they remind me of my youth. The days before the burden of immortality had been thrust upon me. When curiosity and passion were all that mattered in this life.

They are programmed with my voice, which is still unsettling to me despite the comfort they bring my daughter. She often tells me that ‘It’s like you’re always with me!’ even though the facts say otherwise. My inventions fill my time more than my daughter as my infinitely difficult search for a cure becomes more and more daunting. The task feels almost impossible, but I don’t have the option to give up. I will not let her die.

Please, God, if you can still hear me, guide my way to salvation. Guide us to survival.

No matter the cost.

Entry 15:

We have finally found a miracle. During our everlasting search for a sanctuary from the Withering, a Titan presented herself to us.

From the records I studied during my youth, these giant wandering creatures, known to most as Titans, are rarely seen, always passive, and a complete mystery. History seems to depict them as ancient, changing things that reflect the people and land around them through shape, color, and even their health. Constantly evolving, these immortal creatures are the personification of the planet itself. In my own studies of the creatures, they were the first to wither and fall. We have come across dozens of decomposing Titans in our travels, and my daughter and I would often marvel at how such things could be destroyed so easily. Not this one, though. Maybe it was stubbornness, but she was more resilient than the rest.

This Titan looked like others that had been documented throughout recorded history. Large branches grew from her back, but no leaves filled them. Her body was shrunken and starved. Flesh made of pale brown bark that was slowly peeling back and rotting away. Her face was what I took notice of most, no nose nor mouth filled it’s empty space. Only a contrast of dark and pale brown wood as if she were wearing a mask, and a large set of horns like a bull. Wooden ears that resembled a similar shape to that of a lamb framed her face as she looked down at us.

She approached without fear, kneeling as though she were a mother stooping to her child’s level. Her eyes were inverse of what us humans had. Pitch black nothingness filled the margins of her eyes while stark, glowing white light emitted from where her pupils should have been. I could understand the pity and pain that filled the wooden features of her face as her gaze landed on my daughter. The girl’s tiny frame was made of only skin and bones as the Withering continued to steal her health.

The Titan’s eyes drifted to me as if to observe, but I now know it was her way of asking for my permission. I froze under her gaze, both with fascination and fear, as the Titan looked back down at my little girl who still lay resting in my arms. The Titan lifted her hand, extending a single finger the length of my body towards my daughter's forehead. It hovered right above where the green-black decay of the Withering tainted my child’s porcelain skin. The Titan closed her eyes, seemingly concentrating, before a flash of pale blue electricity rushed from the Titan’s finger to my daughter’s dying skin. I averted my eyes from the sudden brightness, but when I looked back, my daughter was healed. The color had come back to her skin, and the life to her features. She was cured. A smile lit up my face as I pulled my daughter tightly to my chest. As I pulled away to look back at the Titan, she was on her hands and knees. Thunderous noises came from the creature, as though it were choking on its own breath. After a few moments of struggle, the Titan collapsed at our feet.

Never before had I considered the death of such a creature. Yes, I had heard of their kind dying around the world, but seeing it was different. It looked lifeless. The Titan’s eyes dimmed as I watched it helplessly. Its raspy breath was the only indication of life still residing within it. I knew it was time to take action.

Entry 16:

Forgive my few days' absence my friend, but I have been working on something very grand. I have been enamored and desperate to learn the secret of the Titans' ability to preserve life itself. The Protectors and I had managed to bind the creature while it was still unconscious. I guarantee you thatmy intentions are far from nefarious. The creature was not ensnared to dissect or destroy, but to understand and observe. This could be the answer to humanity's survival. The answer to my constant prayers to an entity I had never believed in before now.

We have been running tests in hopes that we may preserve the power of the Titan, or even the Titan herself. This scenario seems to be less and less likely as the Withering seems to be taking her strength at a quicker pace than it had my daughter, who is thankfully back to her lively self after so many months. I am more grateful with every passing day that I get to see my child's health improved.

The Protectors have found an even more intense fascination with the Titan than even I. They have not left her side since she fell unconscious and observe all night and day. I have often found myself envious of their lack of a need for sleep. They have been finding more information on the creature than I thought possible for their relatively primitive processing power and have been theorizing on machines that may hold the same capability for healing as the Titan. I have started to draw up the blueprints for such a machine using the information they have given me. It could work, but I have been trying to keep my expectations reasonable. There is no reason to be hopeful in something so theoretical, only to lose that hope all over again. I shall keep updating this journal with my findings and anything else that may be helpful to our efforts.

Entry 20:

After my continuous efforts to save the Titan, she finally passed last night. There was nothing that could be done that we hadn’t already tried many times in the past few weeks. It is a sad day for us all. Even the few survivors that have joined our small settlement seem saddened by the creature’s passing.

Yet, somehow, my daughter still holds onto hope. She told me she feels better than she ever did before the Withering—stronger, faster, and sharper than before. I have been observing her, watching for any hint that my hypothesis may be true. I believe it is possible that the Titan has transferred some of her power to my child. It feels to be the only logical conclusion. She is faring better than even the settlement's strongest and most resilient young men. I shall continue with my observation and begin testing while she rests.

Entry 23:

The Protectors have shown me something rather curious today. A blade of grass. Alive and greener than any other in my memories. One of them had said my daughter created it, though I find that very hard to believe. Nothing on the tests that I have been conducting shows any change in her genetics compared to before she was touched by the Titan’s power. I have instructed a Protector to be with her at all times for further observation.

Entry 24:

It was her. My daughter has brought back much of the landscape around the settlement. Her abilities seem to be the same power that the Titan used to heal her. The same spark of pale blue electricity descends from her fingertips when she touches the earth brings patches of life back to the environment. The survivors here have begun heralding her as our Savior. The one who is to bring life back to our planet and save all of humanity. After much thought and debate, this camp is to be our permanent sanctuary where we will rebuild.

We have begun to call the camp Titan, a way to honor the creature that has given us the power to save ourselves. A grand city full of life and safety. A place that welcomes all humans to exist despite the dark world that has withered away with a sickness that can no longer reach us. It seems as though things are looking up. Maybe I will allow myself to hope again.

Entry 26:

The people have spoken, and I have been elected to run our city as its mayor. I almost cannot believe it myself. I had never thought myself a leader, but the community seems to think otherwise.

My first act as mayor was to begin construction on our new city's center. A large metallic tower, a symbol of our strength and innovation. Something for others who are lost to follow: away for them to find us. Construction has been swift. I have been informed that it is to be completed within the week. Many shelters have begun to sprout around the base of the tower. Homes for our citizens to live and thrive in their new community. Many people have joined our city over the short time of the tower's erection. Almost a third of our previous numbers have joined the community. This pleases me greatly, serving as continued motivation to improve the lives of the survivors looking to me for guidance. My hope has only grown with each new member of our community.

My daughter’s new abilities continue to surprise me. I have found that her touch is no longer required to heal the Withering. Now, only her presence is required. She has also gained the ability to heal the people around her. The small spots of rot along my skin have disappeared almost overnight, similar to others around our temporary lodging. I am looking into a way to amplify this power in her so that we may be able to heal all of our people all at once. Many theories have floated around in my mind as I spend my nights building more Protectors to serve the community, yet nothing has felt quite right yet. I will remain adamant in my ability to problem-solve and begin to work on a few prototypes soon.

The older models of the Protectors seem to have encountered a glitch in their programming. Something resembling human emotionality has occurred in their behavior, especially towards my daughter. They show previously unprogrammed comfort and affection toward her, much in the same way I do. I am curious if their artificial intelligence has begun to evolve as intended, or if this is an error in my work. However, this concern is near the bottom of my list of worries. I shall leave it be for the time being, but I will continue to monitor their behavior for safety's sake.

Entry 3X:

The city has begun to starve. I am baffled that I had not thought of this problem plaguing our community before now. The natural plant material of the recovered earth has not been enough to satiate our population. They are in need of protein, but no animals have recovered to be slaughtered. This has become the most pressing matter that I need to solve, as we have already had citizens collapse in the street from malnutrition. Despite my morals, I have thought of an unorthodox way of solving this problem. The citizens must never know what I am about to do.

Society relies on the labor of the young and capable, those who are able to provide and support their community through their usefulness. I have already programmed the Protectors to collect those who are unable to repopulate. This list expands to: the elderly, mentally and physically disabled, homosexuals, and other generally observed lesser people in the community. They will then be reused to feed the starving masses. A way to fuel the success of our community. An unfortunate, but necessary sacrifice.

Entry 42:

I have discovered a possible theory to amplify my daughter's powers beyond what she is capable of now. My hypothesis is very theoretical at this point, but plausible. I am scheduled to conduct experiments later this week. Though my heart is heavy with what needs to be done, it seems to be the only way to salvage what is left of the world. God forgive me.

Entry 50:

My hypothesis has been proven correct after finishing the procedure, but the overwhelming feeling of guilt and betrayal still weigh heavy on my soul. My daughter has been… destroyed. But her sacrifice was not in vain. The power still resides deep within her body. It has begun growing exponentially stronger, heightened beyond its original limits to keep her alive in her nearly destroyed state. She is no longer a child and can barely even be considered human. Instead, I have created a horrifying amalgamation of organs, mind, and metal. A mutilated, biomechanical monster taking my daughter’s form. Wearing her face in an attempt to torment me.

She is still alive, mind you. It seems that the power has the same properties of immortality that was seen in the Titans. My daughter's heart continues to beat, her mind still functions and processes thoughts and emotions just as it did before. I have been hesitant to bring her out of her comatose state, in fear of what she may say to me after everything.

My child. I promise this was never what I wanted. I did it for the benefit of our people. YOUR people. You are saving them. Letting them live the life that you cannot. Giving them a sense of hope that they have not experienced since before the death of the known world. You are their savior, and we all thank you for your necessary sacrifice.

Entry 6X:

The city is nearly complete, with large walls to keep all undesirables out. It is a safe haven for all those that look up to us. I believe my child would be pleased.

I am still too frightened to bring her out of her artificial sleep, so I have made the decision to leave her this way. She wouldn’t want to live as she is now, and I cannot bring myself to torture her further than I already have. My grief and pain from my actions have yet to subside despite the near month that has passed. I cannot live with this grief any longer. I have come up with a way to stay connected with my daughter even in her current state, for I cannot be without her any longer. We are to share a mechanical mind together. A large computer made to simulate the same connection that she and I had in our life before the Withering. A time when things were simpler.

The Protectors are to do the procedure later today. Even the thought of getting to speak with my child again lessens the soul-crushing guilt of what I have done. I hope to be at peace with her soon.

Entry 71:

I have only now fully recovered from the procedure and have learned to walk again after the intense trauma exerted upon my body. The mechanical scraping on the metal flooring as I move is still unsettling, but it is something I can get used to as time passes.

There have, however, been unintentional side effects to the operation. In the attempt to rid myself of my guilt through a direct connection to the child, instead, I find myself without any emotionality at all. I feel nothing. Not love, happiness, sadness, guilt… fear. It is an odd sensation but not an unwelcome one.

Despite it being unintended, I have found that this condition leaves my mind to work more efficiently than ever before. I have invented more things in the last few weeks of bed rest than I ever have. Power lines have been placed across the city that feed into every home, allowing electricity to flow again for the first time in generations. Not only are these lines for electrical energy, but for the child’s, our savior’s, powers as well. She has been connected to the entire power grid, allowing her healing essence to flow to every citizen in the city.

The Protectors are more advanced and plentiful than ever. They line the walls of our city. They patrol and do daily checks on all citizens of the city and attend to their needs. They have also continued to collect those who are unneeded in society. It seems, much like me, the Protectors have begun to view our city as one great machine. One that only survives off of efficiency, and much like a machine, they remove the cogs that do not spin. Their programming has also expanded to those who are unable to keep a positive home life for the following generation. This included the divorced and widowed.

It also seems that the Protectors have started to bring back the nuclear family dynamic that was popular during the 1950s. Men work as women tend to the home, allowing children to grow into productive members of society. I am astonished by the efficiency our city runs at now. Positively awe-inspiring.

Entry 132:

It has been many years since the founding of this city, and I have discovered something odd. I don’t seem to be aging. I have a theory that it is due to the savior’s power. She and I are physically connected. A large wired cord runs straight from her body to mine, feeding me the energy to continue living beyond that of any normal human. It seems as the cord steals my energy to keep her alive, it gives me life in return. An everlasting cycle of give and take.

Entry 10XX:

The Protectors have brought me something intriguing. A creature unlike any I have ever seen. It seems it has evolved despite the Withering, adapting fully to the dead world that lies outside our walls.

Entry 795X:

Hundreds of years. I have been alive for hundreds of years. The people of the city below no longer know of me. I envy their ignorance. How they enjoy the fruit of my spoils. It was all necessary. And those cheery voices. Those pretty faces. The LIES WE SPIT. They are a kindness.

Entry 8XXX:

With this final entry, I wish to share a story.

Once, the world was a place of wonder. A realm where beings from all walks of life, creatures and humans alike, coexisted, their diverse cultures intertwining. This fusion brought strife and discord, but also love and laughter—a world rich in both hostility and hospitality, teeming with life. It was pure merry madness. But things began to change. A sickness spread, sweeping across the world and claiming everything it touched. It was merciless.

Into this dying world, a great inventor was born. Consumed by the desire to defy this inevitable sickness, he sought to preserve whatever he could of the world around him. Everywhere the inventor looked, disease spread, but his machines remained untouched. Crafted from metal and purpose, these creations of pure function did not falter. Well-maintained, they would outlive their mortal creators. Free of flesh, illness, and conscience, these machines became the inventor’s closest companions.

As the world withered, great beings—rarely seen in times of abundance—emerged from their hiding places to breathe in the poisoned air. Among the most awe-inspiring were the Titans: colossal, wandering creatures, always distant and enigmatic. History told of these beings as ancient, shifting entities, shaped by the lands and peoples around them. Their forms, colors, and vitality constantly changed, mirroring the world they inhabited. These immortal beings embodied the very essence of the earth itself. In times of decay, they were the first to weaken and die.

Something had to be done.

Driven by an unyielding desire to unlock the secret of their fragile immortality, the inventor and his machines captured one of the Titans. It was bound—not to be dissected or destroyed, but to be understood and preserved. In an unforeseen twist, the inventor and the Titan’s power eventually became one. Their minds and spirits fused together.

As the years passed, amidst unspeakable horrors, the Titan’s health was restored, as was the land around her. But salvation came at a price. Life requires life, and in the shadow of the Titan, a new city arose. Its people, faceless and functional, existed solely to keep the city alive. They lived, worked, procreated, and died—all to nourish the health of their home, just as the next generation would. They were told this was a life of purpose: endless gears turning, worn down and replaced.

The city was a blend of flesh and metal.

Over time, the people of the city forgot the world that had withered beyond their walls. They forgot the Titans, and eventually, they even forgot the inventor who had founded their city, their people, and their very beliefs. The cycle continued, ever-churning in the eternal confines of this forgotten corner of the old world.

The great inventor’s immortal machine, and greatest regret.