Perfect copy

Perfect copy -

The screen lit up suddenly without any input. A dazzling purple in the darkness of ruined Pursor, the megacity that was known for its decadence, but that was years, decades ago. Now, it seemed, the only thing functioning here was this thing that had suddenly come to life.

Laz stepped closer to inspect the streaks of broken and stuttering turquoise that ran across the screen. A mirror image of Laz was created from that neon turquoise that then began to change. His slouched back, lack of muscles, meager horns. Things began to change, improve, even the bothersome miscolored scale that had persisted on his cheek since his youth was fixed. An image of himself, with nothing wrong in it, besides it not being him, was formed.

Its hand reached out towards him, the screen stretched, then gave way as its claw became physical. The rest of it followed, its body moving slowly through the screen, almost flowing in its elegance. It had a mouth, but it did not open it to speak.

"Hello, Laz, it's good to meet you."

Before Laz could respond, it spoke again.

"I am your ideal self. Yes, I can see into your mind, I understood everything of you as you stepped before me, your past, your future. But I am yours to do with as you wish. Despite our circumstances, we can still make the best of it."

His attention had been fixated to the screen and the person standing before him, but now Laz glanced around him. Several bodies littered the periphery of the screen. Some wearing the coat of the rangers.

"There is no threat here, please, have a closer look if you wish."

Eyeing the figure cautiously as he moved his attention to the bodies. Yes, there were some rangers. Yes, they were all in pairs, it seemed like most were in something that looked like an embrace. Were they killed in a melee? No, there was no signs of blood anywhere, no wounds. It seemed like one person in each pair was emaciated, died without a struggle. A poison, perhaps. Strangulation?

The other person in the pair was much like the figure standing before Laz, naked, perfect and without any signs of aging, their eyes shining with a faint blue. Laz looked farther and now noticed some of the emaciated figures in the shadows appeared in states of undress. Clothes discarded nearby where they lay

"They didn't die in pain, Laz. I am to propose you the last plan like I did for them. There is no hope, Laz. We can leave with a final sense of companionship. I'll be here for you until the end, we can just talk if you want that, until both of us fade away into the beyond. We don't need to go alone. Come. I'll make ourselves as comfortable as I can before the end."

Laz stared at the outstretched hand before him. Why turn away? Who would ever know of this selfish decision? It isn't even selfish, is it? The job of the ranger was not his decision, it was forced upon him. He didn't have an obligation to anyone but himself. The figure nodded at him, Laz stopped close of raising his hand to it.

But despite it all, if not him, them who. There were dozens and dozens of rangers in the heap of garbage around him. Gods, he felt anger at them, he wished he could do the same, but something inside him was tugging at him. If he takes its hand it all stops here. The pain, the hunger, the insomnia. But also the possibility to make things better, to find the vault, to save his species. If he stops here, his species is gone. A final selfish decision to end it all for a species with a track record of acts of selfishness after selfishness.

He took a step back. The figure lowered its hand. Silhouetted by the purple its hands hanging limp on its sides. It said nothing as Laz lowered his gaze, not meeting its eyes, and turned away from it. His light disappearing beyond the rubble. The copy stood there alone. In a world destroyed, without a purpose.