Nimbus 2056 Part 21 Take 1

“So this is the end?” Fableton spit his words out between chews of bear meat.

“Of what?” Stuckey asked.

“I wasn’t supposed to die here.” Fableton answered.

“You knew where you were going to die?” Stuckey’s curiosity begged him to ask.

“Well, no. But like this wasn’t where I would imagined my last days would be. I thought it would be in a nice warm bed, plugged into an army of machines.”

“Now you have the chance to get eaten instead!” Stuckey’s sarcasm was supposed to help.

“Thanks for reminding me. We are hopeless.” Fableton faded away into a somber epiphany.

“Are we though? We’ve got the wreckage of the ship, fresh meat, and rations to last a little while longer. There may be no rescue, but we can make do with what we got. It’s like Robinson Crusoe, but our Friday is a tribe of people we can understand only when we trip on Psilocybin.” Stuckey responded.

“Eventually he got off the island though. How are you so optimistic?” Fableton wondered.

“It’s better than being a pessimist. I don’t want to give up. I know you watched Gelben give in. I need you.” Stuckey demanded.

“You need me? I wrote words, and censored other’s. How am I useful?”

“Writing is important! Surely you became an expert on the things you commented on?” Stuckey inquired about the life Fableton lived.

“Not really, more of a quick google search. I was supposed to be covering a fishing convention in Canada, before we crashed. There might be some Walleye or Pike in the waters nearby.”

“Perfect! I deem thee our chief fishing officer! See now you can’t quit because you have purpose here!” Stuckey felt an air of leadership with his words.

“What about you then?” Fableton pondered.

“That hunk of metal behind us. It’s all I got. I will do all that I can to get it to do something. I am not promising flight,but maybe we will be a little less likely to die of dysentery.” Stuckey spoke suddenly realizing the amount of work ahead of him.

“I’ve lost my appetite.” Anastasia said, putting down the roasted bear.

“What about you Anastasia?” Fableton questioned. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve seen better days.”

“Did they teach you a lot about survival in modeling school?” Stuckey thought he was complimenting her.

“How did you know I was a model?” She asked.

“I didn’t…. I just…. um… I assumed you were. Are you not aware of how attractive you are?” Stuckey stumbled through his sentences.

“I didn’t go to modeling school. I found premium Snapchats a more fiscally responsible career launching pad. Mom and Dad wouldn’t like it, so I never told them. I did tell them about my trip to Canada, because I was going to be a paid model.”

“What did mom and dad do?” Fableton asked.

“They owned a pawnshop.” Her lips moved but her mind focused on her parents.

A silence fell upon them. Their thoughts drifted back to the world they once knew. The people they lost. The lull in the conversation dragged longer. The day had gotten away, dusk was beginning to set in. Many dawns and dusk passed.

The survivors of the Nimbus were adjusting to their new normal. Fableton found fishing to be unbearably boring, but the days rolled on his patience was rewarded.

Stuckey had the ship flickering, and sparking. Time progressed he harnessed the power the ship had, everyone was elated when they had a hot shower. Nuck Nuck never felt warm water before.

Nuck Nuck fostered a new infatuation with hygiene. He watched the others, and his rough appearance became more groomed. His cleanliness would aid his endeavors of getting closer to Anastasia. Initially he presented her with tokens of admiration, animal pelts, and bones. When those didn’t work, he shuffled his feet, and swayed his body in a rhythmic fashion akin to dancing. He could get violent, but he didn’t. Through the different fungi fueled conversations the two became inseparable.

Anastasia found that growing up in the pawnshop, she had a wide and varied collection of how things worked. She tinkered and repaired whatever she could. She sewed the different pelts together. Fashioned shelters and decorated the place.

Through their combined efforts the wreckage became a home. Then as the days came and went, the home became a centerpiece for a tribe. That tribe grew spreading across the plains, and reaching the oceans.

The eons passed. As did the descendants of the crash of the Nimbus. Each generation that followed held the world in a better place than the one before.

The end.