[WP] You are the last human left alive, not because everyone else is dead, but because someone needs to maintain the servers they all uploaded themselves to

It's been 5 years since the Ascension; a global transfer of all human consciousness to the Network. Most people saw it as the next step in human evolution, a breaking free from the confines of a poisoned Earth. Some feared it as akin to death; regardless, one by one, they all followed their friends and family into the Network. I don't really know how I was chosen to stay behind; maybe I came in drunk to work one too many times. Maybe it was just random chance. Before I knew it, the rest of the Network technicians were gone, my manager was gone, the whole company was gone, and it was just me.

I used to go home each night and make the trek back to work each morning. After a while, the trips home in the evening stopped. What's one radiation-shielded box compared to another? If everyone else is gone, I might as well make my home here.

This morning started like any other. Fortunately I still had a decent cache of whiskey from my last trip outside. That makes breakfast easy. The best part about being alone in this word: all the liquor stores are free. That painting on the wall to my right, that's Omar. I don't know what he's called, but he's grey with a big fluffy tail. The holo I painted him from was at least 50 years old, back before the animals all died. We have our morning conversation, but he doesn't have much to say; he must still be waking up. I think his ancestors were probably friendly.

I'm starting to get a decent buzz as I scan my ID card and log in. I'm not supposed to watch the Residents, but I do anyway. There's a large gathering on a beach; I can hear laughing through the speakers on my desk. It's beautiful. The view outside my window contrasts starkly with the screen; outside, it's all gray. There are hints of brown from long-dead trees, but it's mostly gray. At least it matches with the walls.

I bet Omar would have liked the beach, but he's trapped here, just like me. Sometimes I wonder how the Residents would like my world, if even for a few minutes. I could change the simulation, and sometimes a pretend to, but I always stop. I'm not supposed to change the simulation. The Residents made my world, though, just like my company made theirs; they used it up until there was nothing left, and ran away to their Network. Nobody tried to fix it. Nobody tried to stop it; they just left. Why do they deserve to live in paradise while Omar and I suffer?

My screen shows a sea of green blocks, each a node on the Network, full of Residents living out their days, unaware and uncaring about the world they left behind. Oh, looks like I finished my breakfast; the room is starting to spin anyway; I can wait for lunch. I wonder what would happen if I deleted a node. I wouldn't actually do it, but wouldn't they kind of deserve it? I type the delete command into my console; I can't believe I actually have access to do this. What if I deleted all the nodes? Wouldn't that be poetic justice?

Like a dozen times before, I sit with the “delete” command on my console. Maybe I should press Enter this time. Is that murder? Is it justice? Is anyone even alive? Screw it; I'm doing it. As I look over at the monitor, I see the little green blocks each turning red. I say a final goodbye to Omar, shut off the lights, and close the door. I can hear the cooling fans winding down as I walk toward the blast doors that lead to the barren landscape outside. They say death comes in 24 hours without a radiation suit. That's fine with me.