It took almost a week for Sam to accept that the voices in his head weren't imaginary. They were real. That annoyed Sam. He'd taken this sensory deprivation vacation in order to "get away" from it all -- the noise, the people, the 24/7 advertising, everything. It was supposed to be a full month of peace and quiet. Having people talking in his head was a blatant violation of his travel plans and management was going to hear about it.



"Hello?" A feminine voice called to him. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes," Sam answered, not bothering to hide his displeasure. "I can."

"Oh, thank God, we've gotten through to you."

Sam didn't bother to open his eyes, or sit up, or do anything physical. He was within the Deprivation Pod and that there was no point in it. The woman was speaking to him either through the neural network or, at the very least, via the internal speakers. Odd thing was, after two weeks of silence, he couldn't tell if he was hearing her with his ears or his mind.

"What do you want?" He demanded.

"He can hear us," the woman said, but obviously not to him. "ARE -- YOU -- ALL -- RIGHT?"

"YES -- I ' AM," he answered. "There is such a thing as volume control," he snapped, "try using it. And don't think I'm not going to have this entire conversation timed. I expect to be refunded for every millisecond of this interruption."

"Sir," a male voice interjected, "try to remain calm."

Sam paused. "Who's not calm? I'm on vacation. I think I'm pretty calm."

The two intruders didn't seem to know what to say. He could hear them conferring in hushed tones. Definitely the internal speakers, he thought, they wouldn't be able to whisper if they were using the neural net. He could hear the male person say the word "time" as if it were important.

"Sir," the female voice came back on. "I have some bad news."

"If it's about you ruining my vacation I've already figured that one out."

There was a pause. "Sir, it seems that while you were ON your vacation . . . how do I . . . Well, to put it simply, your world ended."

As jokes went it wasn't very funny. "Excuse me?"

"What she means to say," the male voice jumped in, "is that the world you knew ceased to exist."

This time Sam nearly did sit up but couldn't seem to find the energy to do so. "What to you mean MY world ceased to exist? It's YOUR world too."

More hesitation. "Not exactly. See, your vacation has lasted a few hundred thousand years longer than anticipated. Our worlds aren't exactly the same."

"That's impossible." Sam didn't even bother to say how it was impossible. It just was.

"We would agree only we happen to know how long it's been. Something happened while you were asleep. We don't know what exactly. The ancients say that one day the sky began burning, the oceans boiled, and humanity ceased to be. Whether it was a natural, manmade, or spiritual event is unknown. What is known is that, with the exception of the occasional facility, nothing survived. You happen to be in one of the few remaining reliquaries. As for your personal survival, we think it has something to do with the machinery. Something about how your mind was integrated into the . . . computers. We believe that if we were to open your box we wouldn't actually find a body, just wires. We haven't tried because it offends us to disturb the dead. "

Sam wondered why he wasn't hyperventilating. This sort of news should make one hyperventilate . . . if one had lungs. "So," he asked, trying not to think about it, "you're not human?"

He could feel their surprise. He wasn't supposed to know that. "Does that disturb you?" She asked, fearful.

"No. Though, last time I checked, humanity was alone as the dominant species and a few hundred thousand years isn't a lot of time for such evolutionary jumps."

"Nature, and God," she answered him, "abhor a vacuum. Humanity's place was taken by our kind."

"Which is?" Sam prodded, curious.

"Running out of time," the male voice interjected. "I'm sorry but the machinery, your machinery, is failing. We can't get you out and we can't do anything to help you. We, ah, we thought you should know."

"Why?"

"In case you had something to say," the female voice offered. "This is a singular opportunity. Never before has one great age of this world had the opportunity to speak directly to another. We know you were students of history. We are too. Wouldn't you have done anything to speak to the dinosaurs?"

Sam laughed. "I now know what it feels like to be a dinosaur. I wonder if the dinosaurs would have said what I want to say."

"Which is?" The male voiced pressed.

Sam didn't hesitate. "Don't screw it up."

"W-What?" The male voice sounded surprised.

"Too deep?" Sam asked.

"Is that all you have to say?" The female voice demanded.

Sam gave it a moment's thought. "Everything else you'll work out. Science, religion, philosophy, art, you can discover for yourselves. Probably better that way. Won't spoil the surprise. But screwing it up. That, that's important. So if you want my advice give your actions the thought they deserve and DON'T SCREW IT UP. That way you might avoid going the way of the dinosaurs -- or the humans."

The voices in Sam's head grew silent and he couldn't tell if they were disappointed or awed. He did know that his time was coming to an end and he was all right with that. After all, he'd come on this vacation in search of peace. He was getting it. When you think about it, anything else is a bonus.