Opened Eyes

They had taken the C-1. The main corridor that held accommodations for the more simian persons, such as the scientists, it was one of the main areas. One of the most protected. It was an area that was to be held at all costs, such as the landing pad, where supplies and troops were being ferried-in. I watched on the security monitors, as subroutines closed-off the area.

Blood and gore was omnipresent, as doors were ripped off their hinges and the cannibalistic subjects rushed-in. Blood spurted-out afterwards, into the crowds of beasts. The writhing hordes of animals churned with biomass, their claws causing damage to fellows, their malice turning inwards.

Then I opened my eyes.

Simian bio-signs were gone, it seems. Massive amounts of creatures seemed to have erupted, their numbers seeming to have surged and rushed into neigh-impossible levels. Yet then it uploaded new signs, and I saw the time-stamp.

Three million years.

In one blink.

Seracco was gone, in it's entirety. It's mere idea would be sheer dust, nothing more than the carcasses of forlorn facilities. It's citizenry would be ash, burnt by the ideals of time. Governments would have rejected us, our very ideas. They would have wiped-away us. We were gone. I was....

...unemployed.

Yet then I saw the simian members. I calculated one's facial characteristics, alone, in the C&CC. Artemis K. Pritchard, of Charon. He seemed to be a genius. However, Seracco Psychology Division diagnosed him with multiple disorders, deeming his work insubstantial and most likely insane. He was deemed as minuscule.

Yet he was the only one who'd understand.

I activated the holo-emitter in the room, appeared in my form.

"You Charon smegs, you realize there's a 0.05% of you surviving this facility? 0.76% if you calculate the other simians. You need....genius. If you want to survive, that is. If not, I think you won't need help, Dr. Pritchard."