Dr. Eno sat in his office, dimly illuminated by a warm light in a corner and a small lamp on his desk which he would turn on only to read. In his wrinkly hands, he held a note, freshly printed, which he had just received from the space command. He was aware it was the last note he would ever receive, since there would be no need for them anymore.
The note, or to be more precise, the words in the note were the last hope the civilization had. The last of the space pilgrims had reached their designated planet—one of countless, well, not countless, since Dr. Eno knew the precise number he had computed with the help of his silicon intelligence, D.R.O.N.E., an intelligence far superior to any human, so intelligent, in fact, that it had rendered all human minds pointless twenty years ago.
Dr. Eno and D.R.O.N.E. had theorized, after computations that ran on data centers that leveled entire forests, that there had to be one planet in the universe where human life could survive and thrive. To run these computations, Dr. Eno sought permission from world governments to completely destroy the three major rainforest regions to build the data centers.
He had argued that running this superintelligence was the most critical task for humanity, and there would be no need for the forests anyway since they would find the perfect planet for humans to move to. The permission was granted, swiftly.
Motivated by the progress and bureaucratic enthusiasm, Dr. Eno also convinced world governments to start drilling and mining for critical minerals and metals to build rocketships, and they had sent billions of people on rocketships to countless potential planets, in search of the perfect one.
Of course, in doing so, almost the entire population of the planet had either been shot into space or died from the deteriorating conditions of the planet. The air had become unbreathable, which didn’t bother all the machines that now ran everything.
This was all part of the plan computed by D.R.O.N.E., who never raised any concerns about potential human incompatibility with the plan, and since it was the superintelligence, Dr. Eno didn’t raise any concerns, and since Dr. Eno was the most intelligent scientist, the world governments didn’t raise any concerns, and when the regular people did raise concerns, they found themselves fasttracked to being launched into space.
Now, Dr. Eno looked at the printed message from the final rocketship that contained the final space pilgrims. He adjusted his glasses, took a deep breath of air freshly cleaned by the air filter in his office, and paused to listen to his favorite song playing on the radio. It was a song his son had loved and his wife had loved before both of them died. The death certificates stated, “Incompatibility with air quality” as the reason for death.
Finally, bringing his eyes to focus on the words in the note, he muttered under his breath, “By God! I hope they found the perfect planet.”