Warden

do it for us.
“Plus, we’re far less active, thanks to drones delivering everything we need to our doorsteps, and personal robots further bringing them to our couches. Our minds have already evolved to better allow some of the more invasive tech into our heads, just as our bodies have successively become weaker. We had already allowed nearly our entire population to become dependent on prescription glasses, and we were well on the way to having that same population entirely reliant on powered leg braces to move around. Indeed, if we let evolution run its natural course, at the rate we were going, we would have devolved into a race of dumb, weak, amorphous blobs.”
“Strange world,” Rhea commented. “But what’s to stop natural reproduction?”
“All males have vasectomies at birth,” Will said.
“Even stranger,” she murmured.
“Not everywhere is like this,” Horatio said. “Take Europa. They allow natural births.”
“Yeah, but those people are crazy,” Will said. “The Europans are going to be unrecognizable in five thousand years. The difference in gravity alone will guarantee that. They’ll be a completely different species.”
“That might be good or bad,” Horatio said. “Some say this forced eugenics is not protecting humanity from devolving at all, but rather limiting you from achieving your maximum potential.”
“Well, we’ve more than made up for any limitations with our technology,” Will said.
“Yes,” Horatio said. “And your technology will make you unrecognizable in five thousand years as well. Already, we have cyborgs like Rhea. The next step is uploading human consciousness into machines entirely.”
“You could be right,” Will said. “Leave it to a machine to lecture us on the next phase of human existence.”
Rhea continued in silence. She wasn’t sure whether to feel offended or complimented by Horatio’s words. Already, we have cyborgs like Rhea. As if she was unrecognizable from the rest of humanity.
No, I’m human. At least partly.
Two streets later, an intoxicating smell drifted to her nostrils. Some kind of roasted meat. It made her artificial mouth water.
After a few paces, she was able to locate the source; a hawker had set up a small stall in the gap between two lean-tos and he was roasting several pieces of meat on sticks. The heat source seemed to be some sort of inverted lamp, the filament inside glowing incandescent.
The man smiled when he caught her gaze and waved his left hand. With his right arm, which was a robotic prosthetic, he turned over the meat. The metal fingers glowed a slight orange from the heat.
“Only one cred per stick,” the man said. “Or two creds for three.”
“It smells so good,” Rhea told Will. “Can I get one?”
Will gazed at her with undisguised amusement, then nodded. He turned toward the hawker. “I’ll take three.”
His eyes defocused, as did the eyes of the hawker; then the hawker smiled.
“Thank you.” The man picked up a stick with his robotic limb and transferred it to his human hand. Gripping it by the base, he offered it to Will, who pointed at Rhea.
She accepted the stick and slid the hood away from her face a ways so that she could dine on the meat. Doing so exposed her features more, of course, but not from the sides—she was careful not to look around in case anyone was watching nearby.
She took a big chunk, chewed it, and swallowed. “So good.”
Will smiled. The hawker gave him two more sticks. Will ate the meat from one and gave the second to Rhea. She wolfed it down.
“Protein and fat,” Will said.
“Brain food,” Rhea agreed.
While she waited for Will to finish—he was taking his time, savoring each bite—her gaze dropped to the hawker’s arm.
“Lost it in the Ganymede War,” the man explained. “I was one of the first to enlist. Bad idea.”
She quickly met his eyes, feeling bad for staring. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” The hawker looked her up and down. “Pretty, for a cyborg. Then again, most of us are cyborgs these days, to some degree.” He clacked his metallic fingers for emphasis. “We all strive for beauty. And yet, all beauty is fleeting. Especially that of this world. Did you know, our entire universe is falling into a super massive black hole? We’ve already passed the event horizon. Don’t you worry your pretty little face, though: because of the time dilation, it’ll be another million years before we’re crushed to a point.”
“Well, that hit the spot,” Will said, licking his fingers. “Thanks.”
The salvager tossed aside the empty stick and quickly led Rhea away. Horatio brought up the rear.
When they were out of earshot, Will told her: “And that is what we call a Black Holer. A cult of people who believe our universe is trapped in the event horizon of a black hole.”
“I see,” she said. “A pleasantly dour sort.” She pulled her hood close around her face.
“They certainly are,” he agreed.
“Did I mention this world keeps getting stranger and stranger?” she asked.
“You did,” he replied with a chuckle.
Will continued through the city, turning down several more side streets and byways. Rhea would have become hopelessly lost if it weren’t for her HUD map, which had the entire city available for her perusal. She merely had to zoom out to get an idea of where she was in relation to the entry point. The map extended beyond to the Outlands as well, covering the entire world. Will had mentioned something about how the map data was “crowdsourced,” and thus continually updated.
There was an uptick in graffiti in this particular neighborhood. Nearly all the cargo containers were steeped in the colorful tags. Most of it was meaningless, though there were a few sexual and defecation references. She wondered what the neighborhood would look like with public overlays enabled—the virtual graffiti would probably coat every last square centimeter. She decided that was something she wasn’t entirely keen on seeing.
Also, there was an increase in the amount of garbage lining the sides of the road, and far less delivery drones. Not a good sign.
After taking a few more detours, Will stopped before an ordinary-seeming cargo