The One Who Left

There are 26 people in the world.

"Johnathan," I hear you say. “You’re insane. It’s 2158. We just passed a world population of 11 billion.”

Of course I know this. But you didn’t pay attention in history class. You see, leading up to the fourth world war, the nations’ leaders knew that… You’re drifting off again. This is important. This should be common knowledge to everyone over the age of 14, but you all fell asleep because the textbooks were boring and you’d already covered three world wars and the fourth wasn’t about to get any more interesting. But this is important, so tape your eyes open and listen for once.

Leading up to the fourth world war, the nations’ leaders knew that if things became violent (which, as we know in hindsight, they did), it could be very bad for… well, everyone. There was a very real possibility of humanity being wiped out as a whole. So cloning and genetic research very quickly began to receive mass funding. And then- yes, I’m hurrying- then the war happened and all the nuclear bombs went off and everyone died. Fast enough for you? Good. Everyone’s dead. Humanity is over. Nobody is left, we’re all gone.

Yeah, well, you’d KNOW how we’re all still here if you hadn’t rushed me and had just let me finish. 26 people survived. 14 women. 12 men. Instructions on how to rebuild civilization had been around for a while just in case of a mass disaster, and as the war was ramping up, most nations informed their citizens on how to find and reach these instructional databases. So these 26 survivors, in order to rebuild society as quickly as possible, began cloning themselves.

YES, the instructions on the cloning process were included in the instructions of how to rebuild civilization. That was the whole point of funding the research in the first place. So all 11 billion people on this planet are not just descended from them, but are, in fact, clones. And the children of clones, but there are only 168 combinations that could result from the original 26. So here we are with 194 people in the world. How is this important? Is it relevant to anything anymore? Does it matter? Do we need to remember it?

No. Forget it. It’s just history. Those 194 combinations also bred and combined and made even more people and now we have like 3,000 combinations and it will never realistically affect your modern day life. So forget about it.

“But you said it was important!”

Yeah, I forgot that it isn’t. I’m over 30. That makes me very old and forgetful. Also grumpy. So stop bugging me.

Anyway. How’s your day been? Nice weather we’ve been having lately, huh? Sure is convenient that they learned how to control that. ...This is how you do small talk, right?

Look, I’m sorry, I’m really just not good at this stuff. I never really know what to talk about, so I tend to dump it all out. And some of it is kind of painful for me. Like… Have I ever told you about my first love?

Yeah, now would be the time for you to back out if you’re not interested.

Her name was Amelia. She had fiery red hair and a smile that shone just as brightly. I was always a weird one, but she took my hand and pulled me into her life like she actually wanted me around. She was a friend like I’d never had before, and she had a way of making even the most mundane of activities into something fun. I fell for her like you wouldn’t believe. But I should’ve been wearing kneepads. And elbow pads. A facepad would’ve been nice too, actually. I fell for her, and… Well, she wasn’t there to catch me, is what I’m getting at. You might say she was a traveling girl. For a year, we laughed together, talked together, and cried together. And then she left. She’d had all the fun she could with me. She found someone else to provide her with emotional support, and that person was fresh and interesting, while I had become old and stale.

Let me tell you, I did not get over her quickly. It was two years before I was able to stop thinking about her. But when I eventually did move on… That was when I met Francine. Francine loved me for who I was. With her, I never had to worry that if I didn’t text first she might just ignore me. I never had to worry that my voice would get drowned out in a group of friends. I never had to worry that she’d be too busy to talk when I needed her. Until her trip to Michigan. She took a flight there for a conference. Stayed with a friend for a week. A platonic friend, mind you. That was what she told me. I trusted them, and didn’t think anything of it.

I won’t tell you details. I’m sure you can figure out what happened.

So back to solitude. Five years went by. There were a few other women I met in that time period. Janice. Hattie. Kendra. But nothing ever happened between them and me. There was an attraction on my part, certainly. I wonder if maybe things had been different- if schedules had worked out, or if we’d had more mutual friends, maybe the spark would have ignited. But as it was, nothing ever came of it.

So the five years ended with meeting Samantha. I was cautious by this point. I didn’t want to move things too quickly. But we spent time together, and it felt… Good. There was something there. We could talk about things together, but we didn’t feel like we had to, either. She lit up a room just by being there. She made me feel like she was happy to have me around. And it seemed like she wanted to be someone important to me, as well. I remember taking a walk with her at the park. Just chatting, but having such a good time. I looked at her, and she looked at me. Our eyes met. I was so in love… And all at once, I looked into her eyes and I saw Amelia. I barely held back a gasp. I looked at her smile, and I saw Francine. I looked at the way she held herself. How she sat and how she walked. This was Kendra. It was Hattie. It was Janice. I had fallen in love, over and over again, with the same woman.

My chest constricted and my heart pounded. She looked at me with concern, but I couldn’t speak. Instead, I ran. I’d made a mistake, and I needed to get away. Samantha called my phone. I didn’t answer. I didn’t see her again.

At least, not as her. It still happens, though. I’ll meet a woman, and as I’m starting to grow attached, I realize who it is. It’s a curse that follows me, and I don’t know how to break it. I don’t know how to reshape my love so that the ones I love are the ones who love me, instead of just pretending for a time. So until I can figure it out, I’ll just sit here talking about the past. And whether it’s the distant past or just a couple of years ago, it’s all the same to me either way.