The End of All Things by John Scalzi Read Free Book Online Page B

conversation, waiting for the whole thing to make the slightest bit of sense to me.
    What do you need me to do? I thought.
    “Pilot your ship.”
    I need my mouth for that.
    “No you don’t.”
    How will I talk to the rest of the crew?
    “There is no other crew.”
    At this, something surged in my brain—something like a memory, but not an actual memory. A thought that I used to know what had happened to the crew of the Chandler, but now I didn’t, and that whatever had happened wasn’t good.
    Where is the rest of the crew, I thought.
    “They are dead. All of them.”
    How?
    “We killed them.”
    My sense of panic was back. I knew this was right, that the voice was telling me the truth. But I couldn’t picture how it had happened. I knew I used to know. I desperately wanted to know. But there was nothing in my mind that could tell me, nothing but an approaching wall of dread.
    Why did you kill them? I thought.
    “Because they weren’t needed.”
    You need a crew to run a ship.
    “No we don’t.”
    Why not?
    “Because we have you.”
    I can’t operate an entire ship by myself.
    “You will or you’ll die.”
    I can’t even fucking move, I thought, exasperated.
    “This will not be a problem.”
    How do you expect me to pilot and operate an entire ship when I can’t even move?
    “You are the ship now.”
    And then suddenly the complete incomprehension was back.
    Excuse me? I finally thought.
    “You are the ship now,” the voice repeated.
    I am the ship.
    “Yes.”
    I am the Chandler.
    “Yes.”
    What the fuck does that even mean?
    “We have removed your brain from your body,” the voice said. “We’ve integrated your brain with the Chandler . The ship is now your body. You will learn how to control your body.”
    I tried to process what I was being told and failed miserably. I could not imagine a single element of what I was being hit with. I could not imagine being a ship. I couldn’t imagine trying to control such a complex machine all on my own.
    And if I don’t? I thought. What happens if I can’t learn how to control it?
    “Then you will die,” the voice said.
    I don’t understand, I thought, again, and I imagined that the complete helplessness I felt was entirely obvious. Maybe that was the point.
    “It’s not important for you to understand,” the voice said.
    To which some part of my brain immediately said, Fuck you, asshole . But it didn’t appear to have been sent—or at least the voice didn’t respond to it. So I said something else to the voice instead.
    Why would you do this to me?
    “This ship needs a pilot. You are a pilot. You know this ship.”
    That doesn’t require taking my brain out of my goddamned skull, I thought.
    “It does.”
    Why?
    “It’s not important for you to know.”
    I disagree!
    “It doesn’t matter that you disagree.”
    It matters that I won’t pilot the ship. I won’t.
    “You will or you will die.”
    I’m already a brain in box, I thought . I don’t care if I die .
    I thought this was an excellent point, until a spasm of pain started.
    Remember that headache? That was a twinge compared to this. It felt like my entire body was turned in a seizing electrical cramp, and not even the wonder of feeling like I had a body again distracted me from just how much I hurt.
    Objectively, it can’t have gone on for more than a few seconds. Subjectively I think I aged a year through it.
    It stopped.
    “You do not have a body, but your brain does not know that,” the voice said. “All the pathways are still there. All the ways that your brain can still make you experience pain are ours to control. It’s very simple to do. All the settings are already programmed. If we were so inclined we could run them on a loop. Or we could simply leave you in the dark, deprived of every possible sensation, forever. So, yes. If you will not pilot and operate this ship, then you will die. But before you die you will learn just how far and how long your death can be