Chiara Metters
Finite. That’s a word no one wants to hear. Sadly that was his nature. That was him.
Finite floated in the abysmal realm he called home, his cloud-like hair suspended like ebony tentacles, as though he was permanently dunked beneath water. Finite watched the Earth with glistening gold eyes, tracing his wispy hands over the fist-sized bubbled planet which rippled like water under his touch. He flicked his fingers to zoom into a forest in Canada. Trees twisted up out of the ground around him like infinite charcoal antlers, snow crystallised under his feet and the blankness around him was splashed with an icy sky. Finite’s eyes fell onto a fiery fox, her sweeping paintbrush tail brushing against the crisp frost as she readied herself for a graceful leap into the snow. Finite deflated under the beautiful appearance of Mother Nature’s child, but he couldn’t seem to ignore the ominous, sinking feeling that scratched at his stomach. His eyes scanned over the floating red number above the animal’s head.
68 days… starved.
That’s the thing about Finite, he could predict mortalities. The mortality of animals, people, water, ice, even planet Earth itself. It was so difficult; watching the complex world he couldn’t participate in knowing that it was all going under. It hurt to watch the vixen dive for food, knowing the harsh truth that she’ll never find it.
Finite learnt to ignore the numbers, though sometimes it startled him.
He was used to seeing bugs with 10 hours, eaten, or even some people with 6 months, age; but Finite was starting to notice something strange. A pattern.
Finite felt a sickening feeling in the depths of his stomach as he allowed himself to be engulfed by the buildings of Linfen city in China. This spirit’s amber eyes widened as he witnessed the toxic smog. The fog grew so thick that it began to stalk alongside the population. The last time Finite had ventured to Linfen the grass was lush; it was beautiful. The memory merely shattered as reality stung the spirit’s eyes. The rivers were now like tumbling grey paint, blending in with the equally dismal sky as they crept through the valley. Coal trucks were common, leaving and returning to and from the city like busy, smoking ants. This was one of the worst places on Earth Finite had ever visited, the usual comfort of human development and society becoming overwhelming, towering over him like colossal giants.
His throat clogged as people pushed past him in a hurry, each one with the same title; pollution, pollution, pesticide exposure, high blood pressure, heart disease, pollution, pollution. Some had fourteen years left, some only two. In the billions of years Finite existed, all his time and purpose devoted to surveying the Earth, he had never seen this level of toxicity.
The spirit watched as a group of school children bounded cheerily out of a schoolhouse. Smiles corrupted each of their faces, even as a large billowing cough of smog erupted behind them. Finite didn’t understand- couldn’t understand. Why didn’t they care? Was it that normal?
Along with the exiting children was the trill of the school bell. Soon dozens of kids were spilling out of the hall, all wearing clonic uniforms and bulky bags. Except one.
A little boy, no less than five, was straying at the back of the class, a limp empty bag hanging onto his shoulders like a baby. His face was splashed with soot, eyes squinting against dust and black hair shaved thin to avoid disease. The child’s breath was weazy, chest pumping in an effort to breath. But his appearance and condition wasn’t what made Finite freeze, it was the glowing letters crowning his head.
Emphysema, 4 days.
The spirit felt helpless, his ribs feeling like they were pulled back into his heart as he watched the little boy choke and stumble, failing to keep up with the rest of his peers. Finite didn’t know what had got over him, but his feet seemed to walk on their own as though they were pulled by a puppeteer.
The stout Linfen boy stumbled down a cracked alley; the streets end was hidden behind ghostly smog. The boy choked on air, coughing and spluttering on every rotten breath. The charcoal spirit waded behind him, his mind rushing over something- anything he could do to help this boy, to save him; even though he knew he couldn’t turn back his time.
****
“Oh, it’s you again,” The apathetic voice of Fate echoed in the dark abysmal chamber that surrounded them.
“I can’t do this!” Finite pleaded, wispy smoke-like hands gripping onto his hair as he looked hopefully up to the callous goddess. “This boy, he-he’s going to die! He’s just five years old- I-I can’t let this happen!”
“Oh my god, do you shut up?” Fate whined, stroking her eyebrow in annoyance. “We’ve been over this; you can’t change their lives, you can’t mess with fate, your pathetic little job is to make sure people die on time, okay poindexter?”
“No!” The foggy spirit blurted, earning a stern glare from the goddess. His voice stuttered under her status-emploring stance that seemed to rattle his spine wordlessly. “I w-won’t let this happen! You wouldn’t understand- you can’t see what’s happening! People are dying, Fate! I… I can’t let you do this.”
“Are you seriously talking back to me now? I don’t have time for you- I have an actual role in this universe and I am not going to let a Finite stop me from giving the Earth what it asked for,” Fate grumbled with forced nonchalance, though her jaw seemed to quaver slightly at his assertion.
“But can’t we help? This life is precious, this planet like no other; we can’t just watch it die! We need to put it through people’s heads that this is now! This is urgent! All life on Earth has only got a century, we can’t gamble it on the chance that nothing is wrong! I don’t understand you Fate” Finite ranted, eyebrows furrowed as he let out all his insecurities. He then squared his misty shoulders and took in a deep breath as he stared Fate in the eye, before saying assertively, “But I won’t watch the Earth crumble.”
