[Writing Prompt] The apocalypse is imminent. The Ark was constructed to save the world’s 50 best and brightest to restart civilization and preserve humanity. You were selected but you have no idea why. Your whole life you have been thoroughly average. (Patreon)

Just something I wrote to try to get my creative energy going today.  Thought I'd share it here as well.

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"If you're reading this, then there's good news, and bad news."  Was the first thing I saw when I crawled out of my stasis capsule.

Well fuck, that's never reassuring to see.  No one, and I mean no one, in the history of humanity, has ever said that when the good news actually made up for the bad news.

I read on.

"The good news is, you're not dead!  That means the experimental stasis device worked properly!"

Fucks sake, people.  I know it was the end of the world, but you can't just tell people that not being dead is the *reward*.  

"The bad news is, you've got a lot of work ahead of you.  The oceans are probably gone by now, and I doubt there's any trees left.  All the big cities are probably crumbling, but you might be able to strip them for resources if you move fast.  That's not your role, though."

Too bad.  That sounded kinda fun.

"Your role was kept secret for an important reason.  Each of the arks was built with a specific population set in mind.  The smartest, the most cunning, the most ruthless humans we could manage to find.  The people who would, and *could* go above and beyond any limitation to keep our species alive.

But that's the problem, isn't it?  We built the arks with a heart of hope and desperation, but only a few of us stopped to ask if this was what we *should* be doing.

You might be wondering why you're here.  You aren't a scientist, you aren't a philosopher.  You aren't wired to control a nanoswarm or qualified to operated a terraformer.  You're probably thinking right now, "I'm just an ordinary guy!  What could I contribute?"

Well, there's the crux.  You're ordinary.  You remember us.  Humans.  Civilization.  People.  Culture.  You come from one of a hundred places on Earth, each ark had their version of you chosen at random.

You'll find yourself aug'd now with an internal library, and every language spoken on any ark left.  You'll find your duty roster has you moving around from place to place, offering a helping hand with whatever project needs it.  You'll find yourself wondering what, exactly, you're supposed to be doing here."

That's true, I was wondering that.  Though I wasn't complaining, since I was still alive.  Maybe the good news wasn't so ironic after all.

The message continued, and I read through to the end with a grim frown forming on my face.

"You'll also find yourself, with the codes to activate the cranial detonators of every other human on your ark.

We ask of our chosen best and brightest that they rebuild the world.  Reshape it with purposeful hands, preparing a paradise for the great cryobanks of humanity to follow.  To craft, without interference, technology and environment and society and civilization that will stand the test of time.  To build a better humanity.  It is no small task we ask of them, but we will not apologize for unfettering their ambitions and setting them loose upon our dead world.

We ask of you only that you stand ever at their side.  And when needed, whisper.

"Remember that you too, are mortal."

And for that demand, we apologize."

In my vision, new augments I'd never had before came online as they detected the end of the message.  Ethereal screens flickered to life, readouts and data flowed into my optic nerve, and the lifesigns of forty nine saviors of Earth displayed themselves in a neat ordered row just to the left of my field of view.

I stood, pushing aside the screen that had already deleted the message left for me.  There was no time to sit around.  Earth would wait forever for us, but the rest of humanity wouldn't.  Time to get to work.

Time to meet my charges.