Monthly Short Story for August: The Vaults of Humanity

Hello Commissioned Pioneers! :D As promised as always, in accordance with the results of last month's poll, I present to you the Bonus Story of the Month! There were a total of four choices once again, with a majority voting for an original short story this time around — The Vaults of Humanity! :D 

It’s been a little while since the last original short story option was chosen for the bonus story of the month, and I’m really excited to show you what I’ve had sitting in the back of my mind rent free for a few years now! Vaults of Humanity is sort of a throwback to my earlier writing. It’s a more somber self-contained story that embodies a lot of the things I love to explore. From hope to introspection, to self reflection and the exploration of personal beliefs, we get a glimpse of all of this through a small slice of this world. 

I really hope you guys will like this! I know it’s quite different from most of the bonus stories, but I really hope that I’m still able to write something that’s fun! And I hope I’m able to convey the sorts of vibes and feelings that I felt whilst writing this!

I won’t spoil much here of course, so let's jump right into it then! :D I'd like to proudly present, Vaults of Humanity! :D

The Vaults of Humanity

Tick. tick. Tick.

And so the clock went. 

Analog, dated, primitive, yet reliable.

Tick. tick. Tick.

Electronic systems are failing. Components unsalvageable. Parts are running out.

So we use them sparingly, for our mission is absolute, and our responsibilities are without end.

Tick. tick. Tick.

Or at least… that’s what it feels like.

Tick. tick. Tick.

For we will know no rest until our sentry is done.

Tick. tick. Tick.

These periods of intense boredom were punctuated only by moments of acute clarity, of existential anxieties for the future, and the uncertainty that came with it.

Tick. tick. Tick.

For our mission is absolute… but the mechanisms to sustain it, were very much not. 

Tick. tick. Tick.

If only something were to happen during my watch. If only there was something, anything, but the constant incessant passage of time marked by the unfeeling cogs of this human invention.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

If only something were to—

CRASH! 

Came the toppling of steel on steel, a distant sound, emanating from somewhere deep, deep, within the facility.

WHIIIIIR…. WHIIIIIR… 

Then came the droning of the sirens, the alarms that had been repurposed from the radiation silos. 

“A-alert, intruder dete-eeechhchhtetgsfd, detected in section 2-sdfeeeecg, sub-corridor 32-eeteccccccchhh, attempting to-”

I shut off the speakers. 

For they too were at the tail end of their service lives. 

I couldn't afford to waste what little remained of their utility by having them relaying redundant information already visible on my fading monitors; what was in effect a jury-rigged monstrosity that had been pulled out from the archives themselves, after the more advanced holographic monitors had long since burned out. 

“Section 2, sub-corridor 23a, storage unit 225a, box 12. Understood. Duty shift intendant Peter Warnaby proceeding to investigate. System: please log.”

“Affirmative. Attempting auto-log now. Please hol-ejejehchhhhhhhhhsdd.” 

“Nevermind, I’ll input it manually.” I sighed with a heavy breath, typing down my credentials as many others before me had done throughout the generations… my hands flying across, yet still struggling, at this machine designed with other ergonomics in mind. 

Each clack of the keyboard was made with purpose and care, for each part barring the circuit board itself had been meticulously replaced. With each key, switch, and even the chassis itself  scavenged, jury-rigged, and modified. All in an attempt to keep the torch lit.

I refused to be known as the security officer to carelessly damage a working piece of machinery.

So with the event logged, I carefully made my way off of the elevated seat, my wobbly feet barely managed to touch the floor, prompting me to land on all fours as was my natural inclination.

The humans once called it endearing, or at least, that’s what the stories and logs have noted. But personally, I found it less than ideal.

As bipedalism was preferred, and that’s what I defaulted to after that sudden incredulous display.

I took a moment to look around before moving towards the elevator, despite knowing well there was no one else assigned to the security station at this hour. 

Such was my self-conscious inclinations, even in spite of my logical awareness.

An eternal struggle, resulting from the two gifts bestowed by the humans, once again clashing — thinking minds, and feelings hearts.

Many claim it was only natural to feel this way, to have these two discordant aspects of the self clashing like two opposing waves, resulting in devastation to the spirit in the process.

Though a few, like myself, assumed this to be a test — a challenge that needed to be overcome in order to achieve enlightenment. A state in which all gifts of sapiency were at equilibrium. A state which I knew humanity had achieved, and a secret I knew they would’ve given us, like the rest of the four gifts bestowed upon us all before their untimely and inexplicable—

“Arriving at l-l-lev-vv-el ten.” The elevator sounded, pulling me out of my reverie, urging me to enter as it took practically no time at all to reach my intended destination.

The doors opened to reveal one of the many sterile sights we’d fought to keep pristine.

A pure-white hallway, leading to automatic doors positioned in consistent intervals of fifty meters, ending abruptly at a dead end exactly one kilometer down the hallway.

I took a moment to sigh, stomping out to the tune of the whirring of the HVAC systems. Their continued function was a testament to not only human engineering, but the brilliance of the maintainers that keep this unfathomably complex facility functioning.

A facility I was assigned to protect, as I was about to do now.

After about just a hundred meters in, I turned to face the room in question, accessing the space with a single flick of a physical switch. 

VRRRRT!

The door slid open, revealing an inky dark abyss, and a series of sounds that should not be present. 

CH-CH-CH-CH!

“Who’s there?” I shouted into the dark, my hands fumbling against the manual control switches just on the other side of the door that were well oiled, well lubricated, and well maintained, but seemed to work only about half of the time.

The lights refused to turn on, no matter how hard I tried.

CH-CH-CH-CH!

And the chittering just grew louder and louder with each passing second.

“I’m armed!” I managed out, reaching my hand towards the pistol that was two sizes too large for me, as I struggled to lift it with my short, stubby arms.

It was not for lack of skill, but lack of the proper limb structure it was designed for. This meant I had to give up on the switches. This meant I had to keep both of my hands on my duty-weapon just to keep it from falling from my grip. 

“I said I’m armed!” I cocked the pistol’s hammer, a feat that required one hand to painstakingly pull on the mechanism.

“I will shoot!” I warned once more, before finally-

“Peter, stop!” Another voice yelled from the hallway. 

It was Renee. 

Arriving to the tune of the well-oiled whirrs of the facility’s maintenance bots, carrying with it a cage that could comfortably fit in one of our own.

“Renee, what are you-”

“Shh! Stow away that silly thing will you? He won’t hurt you, he’s just a bit scared!”

“Who won’t hurt me? What do you mean by—”

The lights miraculously turned back on, just in time for me to see the source of all of this commotion, and the extent of the damage that had been done on the archives.

The damage? Was distressing. Shelves upon shelves had been knocked over and as a result, colliding and collapsing on one another to form what could only be described as a domino effect of fallen books, tape reels, and data-crystals.

My heart skipped a beat, as my eyes ran across the veritable mountain of artifacts now strewn about like one of those scrap heaps in the salvage bay. 

And the monster responsible for all of this? The beast that Renee had seemingly taken an interest in despite the obvious dangers? 

… 

Was some sort of brown, black, and gray… thing. With what could only be described as a bandana around its eyes that gave it an insidious look.

“It’s a raccoon, Peter. Don’t tell me you spent ages in Section 27 without actually reading any of the literature?” Renee chastised me, as she began directing the small army of bots towards the intruder in question, the boxy machine giving chase as the beast began running laps around the fallen bookshelves.

“I have no interest in spending what short, precious years I have on the musings of forest-dwelling critters.” I began, before flinching hard as a few already-fallen shelves were trampled underfoot by this strange creature, generating a sickly sound in the process. “I’m a humanist, Renee. You know this.” I explained with a level of incredulity.

“Psh. Excuses, excuses. You humanists say you care about humanity’s legacy? And yet you show no compassion for the passions they had. Sure, science and technology, machinery and engineering, were all of their most visible accomplishments. But their observations on the natural world was likewise one of their foremost passions. To say you’re passionate about humanity, but to overlook their passions over the natural world? I think you’re being selectively blind to their legacy, Peter.”

I felt my whole world slowing to a complete and utter halt following that retort. As my mind attempted to rationalize, deconstruct, and refute the fellow gifted’s claim… but to no avail.

I’d be committing myself to illogical and foregone conclusions if I did. 

And to do so, would be worse than admitting to my own personal faults. For it would make me no better than the pure instinct and emotion-driven creature currently being chased by the bots.

All of this was to say… that Renee… was right.  

I hated that.

My argument was only solid whenever I talked to the kids or the trainees. 

It was further reinforced by the environment we lived and died in, the confines of humanity’s bulwark of legacy, as the grandeur and mystique of it all just made the lauding of their achievements and accomplishments that much more impactful. 

But Renee always saw through me.

She’d always seen right through the humanists… 

Perhaps today was the day she finally had enough. 

It was frustrating.

But I couldn’t deny that it was also… somewhat refreshing, to be able to hear out and acknowledge a dissenting opinion.

“Fine. You have a point, Reenee.” I admitted, as my eyes were once more drawn to the ridiculousness that was this chase. The scurrying creature continued to evade the maintenance bot that had long since passed its replacement date.

“It surprises me how many of these things manage to find their way into the archives.” I began. “It really must mean that the planet’s healing. It would also mean that-”

“TARGET: ‘RACCOON’ CAPTURED!” The maintenance bot cut me off before I could finish my sentence. The machine, which was designed with its original masters in mind, was forced to crane its ‘head’ downwards, in order to address its newfound caretakers. Though there was little in the way of a ‘face’ left to speak of, as the robot had been dismantled, where once there had been exterior casings picked apart for vital components and material, before being reassembled with only utility in mind. 

The ‘raccoon’ as it were, continued to scurry within its confines, chattering, screeching, and yelling.

The maniacal creature annoyed me to no end, its irreverence for that which far exceeded its worth and value, made my blood boil.

But it seemed to have Renee very much yipping with glee. 

“I can never understand your obsession with the natural world.” I offered.

“And I for one can’t understand your obsession with keeping the log-chives afloat.” She shot back, as she gestured for me to follow. 

We soon found ourselves walking out of the archives and towards the utility hangar, a space which housed one of the few airlocks with a direct connection back to the surface. 

“The log archives—” I corrected Renee. “—is one of the few genuine connections we intendants have with humanity. They stretch back thousands of years to the last human to have inhabited this facility. This means that with every log I make, I maintain an uninterrupted chain that binds me with Warnaby the First. The same goes for any other member of the security forces, and the intendantship.” 

The maintainer sighed yet again, clearly unsatisfied with the answer. “And that’s the issue I have with you humanists, you limit yourself to such ridiculous traditions.”

“But tradition is what our society is founded upon.”

“I’m not disputing that. I’m just disputing the way in which you continue this tradition.” Renee acknowledged, before pausing, standing just in front of the entrance to the airlock, currently occupied by the robot and the offending creature it was busy offloading. 

Silence, punctuated only by the hissing of the ‘raccoon’ and the whirring of the robot’s actuators, was what dominated the next few precious moments of our lives. 

But it was clear to me that Renee was once again prepared to pull something out of left field. 

“Tell me, Peter. Don’t you find my name pretty?” She managed out with absolutely zero lead up.

“Ah…” I paused, my cheeks blushing underneath my fur as I cleared my throat, entirely unprepared for such a question despite preparing myself for one of her unexpected tangents. “I mean, yes, Renee is a beautiful name.” I offered.

“And it is a name that would NOT have been available for me to pick from if I were to be stuck with one of the legacy-names.” She responded, steering us back into the thick of our conversation. “I picked that name myself, from outside of the registry. Something that denies me the ‘connection’ to the past that you traditionalists claim, but one that I believe allows me to chart my own course. You know that it took me years before I landed on this name, right? Years of studying the history of humanity in the twilight years of their existence. Years of going through story after story, biography after biography, within the seemingly endless databanks?”

“I recall you mentioning that before, yes.” I acknowledged with a nod. 

“Renee Thompson, my namesake, was an incredible woman. She single handedly reformed  humanity’s conservation efforts in the Ilutthis cluster in the midst of the last war. She was so renowned that the historians and archivists of this facility found it necessary to log her. In a finite space with finite storage mediums, her name now resides alongside the rest of the heroes, before the advent of the Great Silence. That’s the legacy I wish to uphold with my own life. Not one of superficial likeness of the past, but to embrace all aspects of the past, even ones you might overlook because it just so happens to not be in vogue, in tradition, or outside of what you might acknowledge as the ‘greatness’ of history.” 

I once more let out a huge breath, but this time, it was one of acceptance. “Perhaps I once more found myself lost in my own musings, Renee. Perhaps I just got too caught up in the rhythms of my responsibilities, and the legacy behind my name, that I lost sight of what it is we’re protecting.” I shrugged. “History, legacy, everything… it’s more than just names and repetition, it’s about the greater whole. I know that, but… I guess I just needed to be reminded of it again.” 

“Kinda ironic if you ask me.” Renee responded with a jab and a chuckle. “In your one-track mindset to protect the past, you sometimes end up forgetting what that past stands for.” 

“But to be fair, it's that one-track mindset that actually helped us stay the course when we needed it the most.” I finally rebutted. “In our greatest hour of need, when chaos threatened to bring this entire facility down, it was the intendancy and the security forces that kept the order we needed to recuperate. When the last human departed the safety of the facility, it was their explicit hope that we would live on, and it was the intendancy that assumed the role of carrying out that wish. It is likewise the intendancy that dedicates a good portion of their lives into meticulously studying and carrying out the stale and uninteresting, but ultimately necessary procedures required to keep our home and mission intact. I say all this, not because I want recognition or prestige, Renee—” I paused, giving myself a moment to breathe. “—but because I want you to understand that my fixation for the past, and my lapses in judgment, come from this role I embody that sometimes gets the better of me.” 

The smaller uplift’s features shifted upon the conclusion of rambles, from one of concern, to understanding, to what looked like acceptance.

“That’s why I’m here.” She finally responded. “To make sure it doesn’t get to your head.” The maintainer offered with an understanding smile. “Because you are right as well, you know. If this facility is to continue, we do need some adherence to some form of tradition and structure.”

“But we also need a reminder of exactly why we’re doing it, and a boundary where traditions end and our lives can be lived without the former taking over entirely.” I offered. 

“It’s a matter of balance then, I think.” Renee proposed, providing an off-ramp for our little sojourn into the tougher quandaries of our world. 

“Mmhmm.” I acknowledged. “Balance as it pertains to the gifts of sapiency. A necessity to make sure that thinking minds and feeling hearts don’t overpower one another.” 

“Sometimes I wonder if sapiency is really worth the trouble.” The maintainer sighed out.

“That’s the thing though, it’s a gift that once received, can’t be taken back. Besides, the fact that we’re even able to ponder it, is proof enough that it is worth the trouble is it not?”

“I was being facetious with that question, Peter.” Renee responded. “But once again, you do have a point there…” She paused once more, her eyes now glancing back to the robot and the strange little critter. “I can’t imagine going back to that.” 

We eventually went quiet as our focus instead shifted to the final airlock procedures being carried out by the robot, as air pressure equalized and the chute to the surface was opened.

The maintenance bot slotted the cage with the racoon into the chute, as the little mammal reached its grabby hands against the metal grates, as if asking for a parting goodbye.

Which I couldn’t help but to feel a certain level of… longing for.

Not for the raccoon, of course. But for its journey back towards what was possibly a revitalized and renewed surface.

That feeling was only temporary though, as the thing was slowly lifted up and into the great unknown above.

It was following that that we made our way towards the other section of the utility area, an area just adjacent to the chute — the service elevator. 

“Do you think it’s safe to go back up there?” Renee suddenly asked, this time, her voice wasn’t that same jovial or cocksure one. But one of reluctance, and fear. 

“Maybe, maybe not. Whether or not it is, is irrelevant. We have a job to do, Renee. And a promise to keep.” 

The maintainer’s ears drooped down.

“I know.” She said solemnly. 

A quiet moment descended on us both as we stood there for a while, standing, staring at the elevator that hadn’t seen anyone enter or exit it ever since the last human left all those eons ago.

“Do you think they’ll return?” Renee finally broke the silence. “Do you think they’ll come back for us?”

“Yes.” I responded without hesitation. “But while they’re gone, we’ll remain here, keeping watch. For as long as we can.”

“That’s the least we can do for what they’ve done for us. For the sanctuary they’ve given us amongst what remains of their legacy. To truly earn the title of humanity’s best friend.”

We remain a living legacy, the greatest testament of humanity’s boundless empathy and kindness. A living part of this archive, a living testament to the last decision made by the brave skeleton crew of this facility. Humanity’s legacy is written not just within these books or inscribed into these data crystals, but lives on through us. For their sacrifice, the sacrifices of the last few souls who traded their lives for our species’ continued existence. Whilst our surface burned, they gave us sanctuary within these walls. We know not what exists above, but what we know is that we will remain here, until help arrives.