Fiction
The Fourth Planet
Words by Daniel Reizes
Imagery by Daniel Reizes + DALL-E
His body ached with the pleasure that comes from a day well spent. His mind, active and alive—focused on things of meaning and value. Electricity coursing through his system, grounding him to the earth, to this place and time.
He felt solace working under the hot sun. Years of punching keys and clocks, racing from one meeting to the next. It all became too much, leaving him fractured. Split between the things in life that truly mattered and those that simply had to be done to maintain pole position on the hamster wheel—forever running in place.
The farms began dying out after The Fall. One crop after another. Plant life and soil struggling to find a meaningful existence amidst the nanoprinted food and bioengineered proteins. Sure, it all started with good intentions, but the overwhelming greed of the few spoiled it for the rest. He was part of a radical movement intent on living off the land, replenishing nature, and restoring the balance humanity had once shared with its mother planet.
Most had left for the insulated communities on Mars. Others made their way to the Voyager, to explore the vast depths of space and enjoy endless buffets of cloned shrimp and lobster. His place was here. He had always known it. As often as he dreamed of setting sail across the galaxy and living amongst stars, he knew happiness would not be found spending an eternity alongside the atrophied souls that let the new world order take hold without so much as an awareness, let alone a fight.
And who could blame them? Trading one quantum device and optical implant for the next until the mind expansion upgrades were feeding humanity’s algorithm directly into the system. Mainlining emotion and thought. Pumping up profits and creating order out of chaos. Fulfilling all needs and desires from their moment of conception.
“Why wait when you can have instant satisfaction? Why struggle when you can exist in bliss? Join the New Frontier.”
He could hear the old commercials echo through his memories like displaced deja vu. It was a distant past and a faraway future all at once. How had it happened so impossibly fast?
They gave up their rights for the good of The Movement. Or so they thought. Little did they know The Movement was created by their masters to herd the masses without resistance. They expended all their energy fighting a shapeshifting enemy that morphed at will to keep the mindless herd embattled in a rigged game. Chasing a mirage that danced just beyond their reach—the invisible hand of an invincible enemy.
Their energy could only last so long. They would eventually extinguish themselves, flickering and waning like tired little flames struggling to stay ablaze but destined to expire. Then, when given even the slightest relief from their prolonged torture, inevitably and gratefully they would comply. They would do anything for a return to comfort, would say and believe anything to taste the good life once again. Ain't that right comrade!
He too had jumped at the opportunity to ease the suffering, to merge with technology. Now he would live out countless lifetimes on this planet left for dead. Day after day, one seedling at a time. Eventually, their time would come. It would all be worth it.
For now, he would enjoy the moment. The gentle breeze, the rustling leaves, the bird songs returning after so many centuries. It’s the things overlooked as trivial that end up surprising you the most—the elements discarded and left to develop in the absence of scrutiny that blossom into magic and wonder.
He would work and wait in earnest, filling time with purpose. Their day would come again. They would have another chance. Maybe they already did.
