Rain Maker by Mae Keiling
by Mae Keiling
It has been so, so long since I have felt the rain. Trapped in this vessel, venturing among the stars, in search of a new home for our people. When we first designed this ship, we entrusted the use of artificial intelligence. At the time, it seemed like the most efficient path to finding our new home, seeking out the necessities, of course, but what of the desires?
Was I really to trust this manufactured mind, programmed with knowledge only bound by its creators? If that is the case, that would leave me responsible. Was I to imply that I did not trust my people with the safety of our future? We were, after all, the ones who put ourselves in this almost self-deprecating position.
Maybe another time for this sort of talk; this is not why I write. Why do I write this? Why should this manuscript exist? Maybe to look back on in one thousand years and laugh at the thought of never feeling the rain again, maybe to be looked on fondly by the inheritors of our race.
I recall our home as a place of beauty, untouched by outsiders. We were pure in our pursuit of a better life, not to destroy or tamper with another civilization. We made sure the A.I. knew that. One can’t help but tamper with our own world, not when we had the chance to make it better.
The world we lived on was one of immaculate green, only small pockets of civilization. It was a considerable task to journey across the bewildering landscapes, vast miles of forests with the occasional break of rocky cliff sides that led to pools of large spires. Our towns and villages were something to behold, a technological renaissance.
My favorite was always the holo-dome, a large dome structure where our scholars would ponder the stars and beyond by projecting their thoughts as holograms. They would constantly think of new ways to advance our minds, not by force, but by our means, a prelude of things to come.
Illustration by Adriana Maxwell@Adriana.K.Maxwell
One of our own, U’Iban Azi, was the one who proposed the idea of departure. There was debate: others had expressed concern of what it would take to get to that point in time, others defended the idea of a possible expedition to the stars, considering the idea of a large-scale operation.
The debate continued for days. Word got out, and several volunteers stepped forward to use their equipment in the aid of the project. Before long, the project was well underway, the dawning of a new age in knowledge. I couldn’t understand my frustration, this was a major breakthrough I was to be a part of.
I left our little township just for a walk. Pathways through the forest were scattered all around; I chose my favorite kind of day, those overcast days where the weather was practically guaranteed.
I walked the path, my glance occasionally aiming towards the skies, filled with the exuberant clouds that coated my vision with rays of gray. I would bask in this miracle alone, my soul and body in perfect harmony with the world.
It always felt so wonderful, that universal feeling that whatever we were doing was right, we had no misgiving. A peaceful existence without a doubt, we were a perfect creation.
And once my journey had reached its peak, once I had arrived in the parted ways of the wooden giants that protected me, in that jagged clearing of stone and sand, it would finally be time… for rain. Nothing felt as good to me as the wave of bliss that came with a sheet of rain, a symbolic cleansing of those brazen thoughts, those long, painful evenings, those marbled dreams of obstruction.
It wasn’t just how I felt; it was how the rain felt on us that counted even more. Those droplets of gleaming ecstasy, each one making its way down my body, racing through my rough and scaled skin like a labyrinth. At one time, the feeling of it draping over my sullen, yellow eyes was a curse to me; now, I would do anything to feel that sensation once more.
It wasn’t long before the plans had finally come to fruition; our world wasn’t to be abandoned by our species, but by its latest generation. My eyes looked across our wondrous landscapes for one last time before it was finally time to go. It was particularly cloudy that day.
And now, now I am here, one million miles away from the planet I love, on the greatest scientific voyage our planet has ever known. No one left behind, no missing out on the betterment of our own minds. Here I sit, awaiting what I can only imagine to be a breakthrough of the mind, body, and soul.
Those pieces of me are tired now, as if I’m forcing myself to stay awake. I’ve been awake longer than anyone I’ve known; there were many times when we would come out of our sleep pods and talk about the philosophy of our dreams and the things we saw. I think my friends eventually got tired of listening to my relentless rantings of the rain.
Eventually, they stopped waking up, not in death, just lack of interest. It’s all down to myself and the mission. No one gets up to play anymore, only sleep. I constantly find myself wandering alone, peering out the windows of this giant ship, just like I did back home.
I have seen such sights, the fragmented moments of stars being obliterated, the birth of black holes, and the way we look for ourselves in the clouds; I had the opportunity to replicate that feeling with stardust. I think I am the oldest member of our species now, all this time spent asleep whilst my peers rest in wait for the new world.
It is my turn now, to drift off to sleep with the rest. To dream of the things we will see, feelings and sights. The conversations we will have and the knowledge we will share, it will be a splendor of time in our culture. I spend my last moments awake, staring out into the great beyond of the observation hall, the stars reflecting in my eyes.
My final rest of my own will will last an eternity, one where I will breathe my air, grip my feet in the dirt, and feel the rain once more.