Generation 1. Rescue
Captain of the guard watched over his daughter. Like all fathers, he balanced that fine line between keeping her safe, and allowing her to have her adventures.
“No one learns without getting a bruise now and again.” His own father would tell him. Beekan Luc watched her as she rode the armored flyer.
She was little more than a young adult. If in human terms, they were extremely old. The last human went into the machine after the virus nearly wiped them out.
The humans remained in vats of liquid helium ever since, frozen in a deep slumber that none of the caretakers knew when it would end.
Trix had passed her three-thousandth birthday just a decade ago, for the Caretakers, that was her right of passage year.
Each year on Anid-Sta as it orbited in a highly elliptical orbit around the young red star every four-hundred fifty-six stellar cycles. Each day of eighteen standard hours.
Of the entire corps, Trix was the last one to join in the riders of the sky. She always ran off looking for adventure in the badlands.
Her white-metal dragonfly, Evan, an evolved design from the mainframe printers with fine motor control.
Laser printers, creating circuits in three-dimensions, articulated appendages and the most curious of developments since the hibernation of the humans, metallic wings so fine and thin, that the adaptations for flight had evolved into iridescent and translucent appendages.
The caregiver computer that built and programmed them all, printed them in a matrix of metal and synthetic flesh, the caregivers of the Fae, the etymology of the phrase failed Luc, but their job was to dismantle all weapons of the humans. To build a peaceful world.
But for the amount of weapons. The caretakers slowly recycled the metals to create a larger society of metal birds, insects and caretakers.
Bipedal in shape, the computer used humans as a master blueprint, then programmed the small creations as pacifistic caregivers to the plants and the other organic life, they grew in numbers, dismantled the stout engines of war and rebuilt them into usable tools.
Repairing systems that kept the depths of an artificial cave systems in operation. In cylinders, sealed with the contents hidden from view.
A refrigerant fluid was kept in order by the multi-legged keepers of the core.
One calm day, thirty-thousand solstice-cycles after the computer recorded the last human’s death, a chime sounded.
The chime, written into the code of the protectors, excited them all.
Evolution of the caretakers, now constructed to the size of a thumb, gathered around when the first of the cylinders, a label marked “MacLir, Fae” vented and opened down the middle, like a three-sectioned steel flower, exposing a tall bipedal body. The automated table smoothly rolled along a track to a glass enclosed room that filled with a mist, warmed to a digital read-out of forty-degrees-c.
Silver robotic arms moved around, placing heat-pads on the body, existing intravenous lines, inserted before the human was frozen, connected to bags of opaque, heated, dark-red fluid infused through the lines into the nude body of the female human who lay inert for hours as the heated, calorie- and electrolyte- rich fluids coursed through the veins and arteries. Blankets with tubes of warmed fluid covered the body and regulated the core temperature.
In the third hour, the cardiac muscle gave the first beat in three-hundred centuries. Frozen lungs began to move airs slowly at first, warmed oxygen laden with surfactants assisted the weak efforts of the diaphragm with positive pressure, until the patient was able to breathe on her own.
In the world of the caregivers, swimmers, flyers, crawlers, collectively calling themselves the Caregivers of Fae, hovered, stood, climbed on each other and stood on shoulders to see inside the glass-walled room.
Movement in the room, not of metal, but of flesh, a human hand moved up to the brow of Fae MacLir, exploring her face and the tape that held her eyes shut.
A small grunt of pain, she pulled off the tape covering her eyes. The first of the humans were awake. The oldest of their species.
After the long walk of ages, the rescue of the human species was coming to pass.
And the Caretakers of Fae marked the event to the millisecond.