The Universe Of Tomorrow

The Infinite Loop of Corporal David Harris

Just then, a bullet slams into my chest, a searing pain that knocks the wind out of me. I stumble back, my eyes drifting towards the sky, a patchwork of clouds and smoke. As I fall, I feel a warmth envelop me—a vision of my daughter's hand in mine, my wife on the other side, both lost when this nightmare began.

With a smile still on my face, I hit the ground. The warmth takes over, pulling me away from the carnage, the suffering, the endless fight. And for the first time since this war began, I feel at peace.

I blink, the room around me a sterile white, my body surprisingly whole. For a moment, I think I'm in heaven—until the mechanical sliding door opens and two gigantic hybrids step in. And then there's a woman, seemingly human, dressed in their armor.

Screens on the walls come to life, showing footage of me—slaughtering the enemy, killing the hybrid, walking through no man's land with a severed head. A best-of reel of my moments of defiance and violence.

"I have to say, Corporal David Harris, you're the most impressive human we've encountered," she says, clapping slowly. "What were you thinking in the end? What kept that smile on your face?"

"Fuck you," I retort, keeping my guard up. "You might look human, but I know a mutant when I see one."

She chuckles. "I admire the relentlessness in you. Unfortunately, it's misguided. Have a look."

The screens change. It's Earth, unscarred, beautiful, peaceful—the world as it was before the war. She continues, "Everything you experienced was virtual reality, a test to see if we could win a war against humanity. While we would likely win, your actions suggest the losses would be too severe for our mission to dominate as the most intelligent species. So we'll continue to test you—for our entertainment."

My body surges with adrenaline and rage. I lunge at her, and then—

I'm back in the trench, rifle in hand, comrades beside me. The loop starts anew, and I have no memory of what transpired. Yet somewhere deep within me, a stubborn fire still burns, preparing to face whatever comes next, again and again.

For what feels like years, I'm stuck in an endless loop of warfare and death. The trench, the enemy, the screams of my comrades—especially Thomas—it all becomes a sickeningly familiar rhythm. Yet, each time I relive it, I get better, more efficient. My movements become fluid, my aim deadly accurate. Killing these alien creatures becomes second nature, almost like breathing.

But despite my increasing skill, despite the adrenaline that courses through my veins each time, I can't escape the loop. Every time I die, every time a bullet, a blade, or an explosion takes me down, I find myself back in the trench. Gun in hand, mud underfoot, Thomas's voice filling the air with the same words I've heard countless times.

It's like I'm stuck in a twisted game, a violent cycle with no end in sight. My body doesn't tire, but somewhere deep within, my spirit feels the weight of this unending war. Still, I fight on, because that's all I know how to do. And each time I rise again, I'm ready, waiting for whatever comes next.

I find myself in the familiar white room, but it's not as I remember it. The walls are crumbling, the screens flicker and then go black. I look down at my body, now a gaunt shell of what it once was, skin stretched taut over bones. My beard is a tangled mess, as if years have passed.

I force the metal door open and step into a tunnel that seems to stretch endlessly. I walk, my footsteps echoing in the emptiness, until I see it—a window revealing the debris of what was once a ship, scattered aimlessly through the vast expanse of space.

Pushing forward, I find the control room. The corpses of the aliens are here, long decayed, the stench of rot filling the air. Among them is the woman, her body slumped over the console. Tentatively, I touch the table in front of her, and it flickers to life.

A playback starts, grainy and skipping like an old film. It shows the ship under attack, but not from any external force. The crew members, the hybrids, even the woman—they're fighting among themselves, destroying each other in what appears to be a frenzied civil war. The playback ends with the ship's systems failing, life support shutting down.

I stand there, taking in the gravity of what I've just seen. Whatever their original mission, it seems they fell victim to their own infighting, their own flaws. The ship, the experiments, the endless loop of warfare—they've all been abandoned, forgotten.

I'm alone in a derelict ship floating through space, far from Earth, far from the war-torn reality—or virtual reality—that had been my entire existence. The control room is silent except for the distant hum of the dying ship.

I might be alone, and my body may be worn, but I've survived. It's a cold comfort, yet a comfort nonetheless. Now, I just need to figure out what to do next in this aimless void.

I spot a recording function on the console. My fingers, skeletal and trembling, navigate the interface. If this ship has kept records of its own history, it might as well keep a record of mine. Besides, with the ship drifting toward an unfamiliar planet that appeared out of nowhere, I have a sinking feeling I won't survive the impending crash.

"I'm Corporal David Harris," I start, my voice hoarse, "and if you're hearing this, then I'm probably long gone. I was a soldier in a war that might have never really happened, a pawn in a twisted experiment to test the mettle of humankind against a superior alien race. I don't know how long I've been caught in that virtual loop, how many years have actually passed, or if anyone from my original world is even alive."

As I talk, I glance out the window. The planet looms larger and larger, its gravitational pull dragging us into a collision course.

"In this dead ship, surrounded by the corpses of my enemies, I've discovered a peculiar peace. They destroyed themselves, undone by their own inner chaos. And me? I endured. If my endless cycles of death and rebirth served any purpose, perhaps it was to make me resilient, adaptable—a survivor."

The ship shudders, the pull of the planet growing stronger. Alarms that haven't sounded in what must be years suddenly blare, the noise grating and discordant.

"So, if this is to be my final moment, let it be known that I fought until the end. If there's a lesson in my story, it's that the human spirit can endure more than we can ever imagine."

The ship trembles violently now, the control room bathed in the red glow of emergency lights. I hit the "save" button on the console, preserving my tale in whatever archive this dying ship possesses.

As the vessel spirals uncontrollably toward the planet's surface, I brace myself for the impact, closing my eyes. Whether it's another loop or the final end, I face it head-on, ready for whatever comes next.