To anyone who finds this tooth memory card and the messages left within...
My name is Charles Snippy and I am probably the last sane human being left on Earth. I know not whether you will understand this message. I know not whether you'll even be able to decode the ones and zeros on this data card. I know not whether my voice will ever reach anyone.
I know not whether the microscopic drives will last long enough and whether the plastic and metal parts will not disintegrate into dust as centuries pass or whether the titanium shell encasing them will remain in place or be consumed by the ever-changing landscape, lost forever. And yet I still have hope that someone will find the story of my life, probably by now long past and learns something of use from it or perhaps be slightly enthralled by the tale of my doom.
If you are still human, then this will be a story about the collapse of the civilization of your forefathers through greed and arrogance. If you are some other species entirely, then it is a story about how the human race was extinguished through our disregard for the balance of the planetary eco-sphere that gave us life through the long line of evolution.
My entire life's story is sealed within the confines of this card, in the form of daily journal entries starting from the day the Directorate dental bot cracked open my tooth, shoved the card in, and, through my tortured screams, promised "ONLY MILDLY PAINFUL RECOVERY".
I've been narrating my life to myself as an exercise recommended long ago by an "online psychiatrist" as a way to "maintain sanity" in "highly stressful situations". Why does sanity need to be maintained, you might inquire?
My sanity is a force that is in balance with an equal and opposite reaction: the absolute insanity of my only friend. That friend is of course Zee Captain. Who is Zee Captain? Let me tell you all about Captain.
...Where to begin?
Well, this morning Captain discovered a pair of old Binoculars and dedicated the entire morning to the "FINE ART OF OGLING LADIES". Finding non-expired, non-radioactive food? No! Ogling ladies for hours on end is definitely far more important an objective than survival! At first I tried to argue, but when Captain handed me a binder entitled "GENTLEMEN'S RULES OF OGLING" I decided to deal with the situation with sarcasm.
I looked inside the binder and, of course, inside was glued a piece of paper with the following:
STEP I: WEAR YOUR FANCIEST WHITE TOP AND PANTALOONS
STEP II. ACQUIRE BINOCULAR DEVICE
STEP III. LOCATE OBJECT OF OGLING
STEP IV. OGLE
STEP V. MAKE APPROPRIATE GENTLEMANLY COMMENTARY TO YOUR LADY OF DESIRE
STEP VI. DISREGARD INSOLENT DISTRACTIONS
Where Captain keeps the antique typewriter that types only in fancy, squiggly capitals, I may never find out.
After many hours of watching Captain talk to the Billboard lady, I mentioned, "That isn't even a real human being, you know. You're talking to a drawing. She can't answer you."
To my remark Captain responded, "HMM... ZAT IS INDEED A DIS-PROPORTIONAL PICKLE REQUIRING RESOLUTIONS. HOOMAN ELEMENT YOU SAY? SUCH IS TO BE PROCURED IMMEDIATELY!"
Upon this, the BINOCULAR DEVICE turned slowly 90 degrees and rested pointing straight at me. I wondered how long Captain was going to stare at me like that, and whether this was, to either of us, an improvement over the previous situation.
"M'YEES... THAT'LL DO..."
was the last thing I heard before something like a sack of rock-hard potatoes hit me on the back of the head and all went dark.
I woke up in a hideously uncomfortable vertical position, tied to the billboard. Half of my view was obscured by a pink wig. The rest of my view was of buildings, stormy clouds and the icy ground far below.
"Awgh, come on!" I coughed out, trying to shake the dratted wig off my head.
Far off in the distance, I saw a glint of purple-tinted binoculars. I heard Captain shout something towards me that sounded like "IZ ZAT BETTER?"
"Damn you!" I swore under my breath, forcefully trying to wiggle out of my bonds, but lets just say this was a horrible idea. My wiggling had not broken the ropes, but in fact had caused the billboard's rusty beam supports to come apart.
Then, the whole structure started to collapse. With a dreadful screech, the billboard, along with my person, detached itself from the metal framework and plummeted downwards.
I lost count of how many times up became down as the billboard flipped and flopped, falling, catching on numerous balconies, twisting, shaking and losing jagged pieces of metal and plastic.
I saw the ground closing in.
As I was about ready to meet a very tragic end with potential splattering and bone breaking consequences, the billboard crashed into another balcony and suddenly turned flat, gliding in the air. There was no more crashing noise, only the hiss of the wind.
I figured the board must have caught an updraft of air, turning it into a massive kite. I saw the sky sailing above me for a moment, before the billboard smashed into the ground, digging into the ice, severing the ropes and flinging me out into a snow-bank.
Making a snow-angel as I tried to get up, but failing due to dizziness, I saw Captain's figure standing over me.
"NINE POINTS" it spoke.
"What's wrong with you!?" I shouted "Why would you...?"
"YOU LOST ONE POINT FOR NOT SMILING ON YOUR 6TH FLIP" Captain answered:
"GRUMPY ATHLETES GET SECOND PLACE, YOU KNOW!"
I didn't know whether to strangle Captain or to laugh. I chose the latter, because... why not. In a radioactive world where you have nothing to lose or to gain, where your home usually has no roof above it, being a human kite is sort of... maybe just a tiny bit... amusing?
Moral of the day is that I definitely learned NOT to poke fun at Captain's conversations with inanimate objects.