The Hauntings of Playing God (The Great De-Evolution) Read Online Free PDF

narrow his eyes and try again. Some people, no matter how old they get, don’t want to admit their limitations.
    The very last time George took a body to the incinerator, he powered up the forklift and moved it into place. But when he raised the forklift’s arms, only the back end of the bed raised, and before George saw his mistake and could pull the lever back, the bed had been flipped upside down. The poor body that had been atop the bed had gone crashing over the side, head first, and was left in an ugly position that not even the most dedicated yoga practitioner should attempt. If the Block hadn’t already been dead, it would have been then.
    “Damn it!” George had yelled.
    “Let me help you,” Morgan had said, but George was already shifting the forklift’s gears again. Instead of getting out and saving the body some dignity and respect, George had lowered the forklift’s arms so they were at ground level, and then he cranked another lever so the machine moved forward, pushing the body and the bed across the floor instead of carrying it. By the time it was halfway across to the door and the incinerator outside, a pile of dust had collected under the poor Block.
    “It’s okay,” Elaine had told him after the whole thing was over. “We all get old. One of us can start doing the forklift.”
    The next day, though, George had opened the gymnasium door, walked away, and was never seen again. Some people are inclined to face the harsh realities of life, while others simply are not. Or, as Elaine had put it, “That old bastard should have just admitted he was blind as a bat and stopped punishing himself.”
    Morgan is older than she ever imagined herself being, but her eyesight has not deteriorated. Her sense of smell is almost gone. With it, her sense of taste. Parts of her are deadened to sensation while other parts constantly cry for a reprieve from her chores. But she can see exactly where she needs the forklift to be in order to carry her friend away. She doesn’t even need to squint.
    The forklift’s arms move under the blankets and scoop up the hidden body beneath them.
    How absurd I must look , she thinks. An old woman in the driver seat of a warehouse machine.
    She imagines one of her Blocks calling out, “If you think this is bad, I once had to drive a replica of the Batmobile all the way from Boston to Baltimore.”
    “Not now,” she says, determined to get this job over with as quickly as possible.
    Thankfully, the forklift’s motor drowns out the noise of Elaine’s body catching on fire and then sizzling into ash. When the forklift’s arms come out of the flames, they are slightly orange, like a welder’s anvil.
    She tries not to think about being the only person left to care for an entire gymnasium full of bodies. But she knows that isn’t the only thing bothering her; she is also the final normal person in the entire city. There’s a chance George is out there in the city, alone. Not a strong chance, though. As bad as his eyesight was, he wouldn’t be able to see the buttons on a food processor and would starve. And that’s if he was able to see the potholes on his way to another home. Probably, he would only get a few hundred feet before stepping right into a hole and either twisting his ankle or falling face first onto the concrete. It’s likely he died a day or two after abandoning the shelter. There is no telling what animals stalk the city streets looking for food.
    Daniel, in Los Angeles, is the only other person she knows of in the entire world who is still alive. This, more than anything, is what she tries not to think about because it means all the other final settlements have gone quiet. And if they have gone quiet, it’s a matter of time until hers does as well.
    The seemingly endless amount of cots in front of her offers all the distraction she needs. If she doesn’t make her way through all four quadrants each day, someone else will begin to suffer. This thought is what