"Eye Watched" by Morgan A Grover

Eye Watched

The critics may state that I never had a chance to live; I would argue against that. Born nineteen years ago in a small town located in the north-western corner of South Dakota, I was only three when nuclear war erupted and fallout soon followed. My parents, ever caring, sent me to the new Mars colony, but they never made it. Orphaned, I became government property and was tested daily so that they could decide what to do with me. I was smart and athletic; “a fine specimen" they called me. I don’t remember any of that. The psychs call it infantile amnesia.

I began childhood basic training on my fifth birthday. I remember hating it, but I soon learned to love it. I excelled in my class and at fourteen I was sent into my first battle: four light-years off the edge of Beta-9 on a small planet called Iceph. An ugly place filled with nothing but ice and snow. The subzero temperature was piercing. It was like sitting naked in a meat locker. The cold seeped through our thermal suits like blood through a rag. I returned home covered in blisters and sores and then lost a toe to frost bite.

I killed three skuds that day, ugly four-armed things that resembled a humanoid mongrel. It was a short battle really and I was home by dinner. Hell, I even had time to shine my shoes and find a wench to share for the night. She was pretty. I wouldn’t settle for anything less, but it wasn"t about pleasure; never about love. The government wanted my genes spread. It seemed I was made of all the right things. The woman had to be checked too, but any who worked in that field had to get government clearance anyway.

Eleven children later and I was seventeen. Suffering no critical injuries in over a half-dozen battles. I only lost an eye, but it was quickly replaced by a more advanced optical lens that offered night vision. Then came the real war; a war that tore our planet in half and left its insides dangling like a disemboweled beholder.

The surrounding orbit was filled with rock, gas, and dust that made travel nearly impossible. Nobody was getting off the planet—or rather the remaining half—including my division. We were left to fade away like the rest of the planet. We were easily replaced, like nuclear pods in a toy.

There were eleven of us to start with, but between the ambushes, traps, and poisonous gases that invaded the atmosphere, there were only three of us when we saw the rescue ships. It seemed unbelievable and on all accounts it was, but somehow they made it through. They hovered far above, only a speck in the sky. Our radios went crazy with signals as we punched in SOS. We never received a response. It was our government’s ship, there was no doubt. The guy beside me, #89-JK, was a tech. By the reading on his palm digitizer the ship was sending ID waves that distinguished it as our own. The digitizer also recognized the light-bombs that were being dropped from the belly of the beast. It seemed it was easier to exterminate us than to save us. That was understandable; our own children had surpassed us on all levels anyway. They were stronger, faster, and had advanced beyond the point of human. We were obsolete.

The three of us watched as the bombs descended like giant urns that contained the ashes of a cremated planet. I saw the flashes, then the mushroom clouds. Before my eyes the wind of death rushed forward. I watched as our mission suits evaporated in flame and our skin melted into pudding; I watched as the fat sizzled and popped, turning our muscles into human steaks slathered with bodily gore; I watched as bones exploded and left nothing but the limited mechanical workings of our enhancements. My eye, connected to the metal and glass melon shaped thing that was in my skull, still watched.