orb 1.3

Below is chapter 03 from the, The Orb Evaluation – each chapter is separated into the following sections:

01. encounter

02. options

03. evaluation

04. decision

 

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Turbulence jolts the plane. You peer out the window. Pools of murky clouds pass. A nauseous feeling hangs in your throat. Another jolt. Leaning left. Right. Shaking the entire vessel. You grip the seat. 

You breathe in. Jaw clenched. Your pupils wide. 

A cracking sound rips through the air as the right wing crumbles from the craft. Passengers scream. 

The plane nose-dives. 

Your puke paints the surrounding seats.

All goes black.

Wet. Cold. Your eyes refocus. Half of the craft is visible. Floating. You don’t remember putting on the life jacket. Gulps of ocean water enter your mouth. You gag on the salt. Unconscious bodies drift through the waves. Wounded, bleeding, dead.

You attempt to swim, but the choppy waters take control, guiding you wherever it decides.

Night falls. The crash site, now miles away. 

Darkness above you. 

Darkness beneath you.

All goes black again.

The sunrise gleams upon the horizon. 

Your eyes adjust to the light. You don’t recall falling asleep. 

The lumpy sand presses against your body.

“Sand?”

You roll over to your stomach.

Palm trees. A white beach. The ocean.

“Where am I?”

“Lucky day, my friend.”

You turn. A floating robotic sphere hovers.

“I’d offer to make you a cocktail, but I sense you’d prefer some answers instead.”

Crawling backward on your butt, you gaze at the mysterious hovering object.

“I—I—”

You crack a delirious smile.

“I might need both?”

“Of course.”

A mojito forms in the air.

You grab it as it floats towards your hand.

“I was joking.”

You stand up and stare around the island.

“What’s going on? Am I dead?”

“You’re not dead. So that’s the good news.”

“Yea, I guess so?”

“The bad news is you die on this deserted island.”

“What? I’m not hurt? At least I don’t think—”

You glance at your body, looking up and down.

“I don’t think I’m even injured? Someone has to find me.”

“No, you will die here, but it won’t be soon.”

The Orb projects a transparent line across the beach and over a hill.

“Just over that hill, you will find plenty of food, freshwater ponds, waterfalls. There’s fruit, animals, resources, everything you need to survive and live a full lifetime here. However, the island is empty of humans.”

“Why won’t anyone find me? Won’t they send a search crew or something?”

You walk towards the hill. 

Your heart rate rising.

“And—and what are you? You can make a mojito, but you can’t signal to help me?”

The Orb follows behind.

“Point taken, my friend. I’m a traveler of sorts. And I scanned your entire timeline. No one discovers you on this remote island. They send a recovery effort, but only find the plane, and the victims, and unfortunately they assume you died along with the rest of the passengers and crew. Then they call off the search efforts. So as much as I’d prefer to send a help signal or transport you back, I am bound by the design that protects the natural order of the universe. I will not say you landed here for a reason, but changing this event has ripple effects so vast that I can not do so. It’s far beyond what a human lifetime could ever fathom.”

“So—are you saying I’m stuck here?”

You reach the top of the hill, gazing at the untouched land. 

Stretching into the distance, a jungle of trees, an enormous pond filled with fish, and a sparkling waterfall. 

“I’m all alone?”

The Orb floats to your side.

“Living a life of solitude is no easy burden. Although it’s not in my power to change your isolation, I can ease you into this new existence.”

You take a sip of your mojito.

“By doing what?”

“Presenting you a series of options.”

“Well, looks like you’re my best option. So—I guess, I’m all ears, traveler.”

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Option 01: Creature Comfort

The Orb pulses blue. A cloud of energy swarms into the air, forming a miniature house.

“Being ripped away from everyone must be shocking. In one moment, you’ve lost all personal connections. And all comforts of home. But, your first option can ease this transition.”

The miniature house enlarges full size, lowering to the sand.

“Let’s take a tour.”

The front door swings open.

You walk inside.

Tile floors stretch throughout the house. Beautiful furniture fills the spacious rooms. There’s a big kitchen with a stove and sink. It’s even air conditioned.

“Wow. This is pretty impressive.”

“Oh, this is just the start, my friend. As you can see, it’s modern. Has running water. Heating and cooling. Everything to provide a comfortable life here. A sturdy roof, walls, windows, and any furniture of your choosing, if you have a specific preference? Down that hall is a bedroom, and I can model it after your own bedroom if you’d like? And there’s a hot shower, bath, and even a working toilet. Your cabinets are infinitely stocked with soap, toilet paper, razors, shaving cream, as well as toothpaste and a toothbrush.”

“I mean, this is great and all, but I’m still stuck on an island.”

“True, but not entirely isolated. Look over there.”

You see, a small writing desk and a laptop.

“A laptop?”

“You might think what use does this have on an island? Well, not much in a traditional sense, but it has full access to the internet, for 1 hour a day. You may browse as you choose, check out social media, and stay current with the news. You won’t be able to send outgoing messages such as emails or chats, but having access to the world should ease your loneliness.”

“I mean, It’s better than not having it.”

You take another sip of your mojito.

The Orb hovers into the kitchen.

“And, you won’t get hungry or thirsty here either. There’s plenty of fruits and veggies to sustain you on the island. And this sink has an endless supply of purified water. But once a month, I’ll also materialize your favorite meal. Any meal you want.”

“Any meal?”

“Any meal. And don’t worry, it’s perfectly heated or chilled.”

You glance around the house, but it’s hard to imagine the rest of your life existing on this island.

Forever.

“Look—I appreciate it. It’s better than being completely isolated, but—I don’t know if I can live here forever like this. I mean, that’s it. Just stuck here?”

“Perhaps, there’s something deeper you want?”

Option 02: Final Goodbye

The Orb glows bright yellow, heating the air. Its golden aura turns into a jelly substance, oozing into droplets. The tiny droplets join into a thin rectangular shape, forming into a phone.

“Last words are precious. And abrupt endings always leave an incomplete feeling. But your next option may help with that.”

“With a phone? I can call someone?”

“Yes. If you want to say a last goodbye, then this is your chance. With this phone, you can call a loved one. And you can talk for as long as 6 hours. But with one stipulation. You can not talk about the plane crash or this island. If you try, the phone fills with static.”

“But—if I’m talking to someone. Then, then they’ll know that I’m alive.”

“Normally this would be the case, but this situation isn’t normal now, is it?”

“No, this is insane. I mean, I haven’t even processed I was in a plane crash yet. And now I’m stuck on an island, talking to whatever you said you were.”

“Understandable, my friend. It is a lot to absorb. But this phone calls people from the past rather than the present.”

“The past?”

“Yes, you’ll be talking to someone who thinks you haven’t boarded the plane yet. Therefore, you can say your final words and goodbyes without consequence, not revealing your future.”

You look at the floating phone. 

Faces of family and friends flash through your mind. 

Then you turn to the Orb.

“But it’s one or the other? If I pick the phone, I don’t get the house?”

“Correct, you won’t have access to house.”

“So I say my final goodbye and then I’m stuck on this island with no shelter?”

You shake your head.

“This is crazy.”

“Perhaps your last option may help?”

Option 03: Trust

The Orb moves closer. In the center of the sphere, its red light ignites even brighter.

“Your last option is a bit risky.”

A photograph forms in the air. 

On it, a silhouette of a person. In the center of the person, a question mark appears.

“Want to escape the island?”

“Wait, what? I thought you said—I couldn’t?”

“Only with significant risk does the universe allow for such an intervention.”

“What? Well, let’s do it. Why didn’t you say that in the first place? Who needs a toilet or a phone call if I can leave?”

“Well, my evaluation algorithm assesses the best sequence for you to digest the information, which is why I, first, presented the house and the phone.”

“Ok, that’s great and all. Now, how do I get off the island?”

“You must pick a person to join you here.”

“On the island?”

“Yes. Once you’ve chosen, I will travel to this person, informing them of your accident, the sustainability of the island, and the inability to escape. Then I will present them with the option to join you here for the rest of their life.”

“Join me? But you said—”

“Yes, this is the risky part. If they choose to join you. Their selfless decision provides the energy the universe needs to alter the timeline. As a result, I will wipe that person’s memory of my visit. Then I will free you from the island. Instead of washing ashore, you awake clutching debris in the ocean. A rescue team saves you. You return home, hailed as the miracle survivor of Flight 218.”

“Well, that’s amazing.”

“It certainly is, if the person joins you here. However, if this person declines. You must stay on the island and you’ve wasted your option.”

“What?—They have to join me or I’m trapped?”

Your mind races.

Pulse pounding.

“That is correct. It’s no easy decision, my friend. You can choose anyone, but it probably serves best to select a person who knows you. And would give up their comfortable life to join you here.”

Rubbing your forehead, you stare wide-eyed.

“That’s more than a risk. If I’m trapped here, then I don’t get the house or anything?”

You exhale, walking out of the house and to the beach.

“Well, I guess your algorithms were right?”

“It’s a very accurate system, always placing adequate evaluation as top priority.”

 

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You take another sip of your mojito, peering at the ocean Then you sit on the sand. The Orb lowers next to you.

“Take your time, there’s no rush.”

You nod, unsure what to say.

A bright light flashes.

Zoop!

The Orb disappears.

“What? Did you leave?”

“Still here, but I must leave soon.”

The house shrinks to a floating icon, hovering next to the phone and photograph.

“When you’re ready, just press whichever one you want. Otherwise, they will fade by tomorrow’s sunrise.”

A wailing shriek howls.

“Excuse the noise. I’ve opened a portal. There’s a lot of shouting and confusion in the hospital room already. So it will take much explaining once I arrive.”

The howl bellows to a roar, followed by a whistling whoosh.

“Good day and good luck, my friend.”

A burst of wintry air rushes over you.

The whistling whoosh dissipates, leaving you with the sound of crashing waves.

Alone, you sit. On the island where you may remain forever. A hollow sensation fills your chest. You stare deep into the horizon, fixated upon the hazy melding of ocean and sky. It’s a distant blur, blurry as your mind.

Your eyes drift back to the options. 

You take a deep breath.

“At least, I have until sunrise.”

 

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to select your option.

 

See how your option compares
to other people's decisions.

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