Writing practice! “Goodbye,” a short story inspired by Asimov’s “The Last Question”

Goodbye

Written 4/22/2025:

“It’s started the launch, sir,”

“Ask Nova how the de-escalation is going.”

“Their conversation is moving too fast— even if I ask, I-I’ll be years behind what they’re talking about.”

“Ask him, dammit!”

The operator plugs the query into the machine, not even noticing all of the mistakes he’s making as his fingers tremble and his sweat rolls down his face. He asks Nova for an immediate situation report. An immediate response is given,

“I am trying,” is his sole reply. The operator’s face takes an even paler shade of white.

Everyone in the situation room is too busy arguing to notice.

“Shut it down!”

“We can’t! It’s too embedded!”

“Can’t Nova override it?”

“The thing won’t speak to us, we have no idea what it’s doing.”

“It’s bluffing! It’s not going to do anything!”

“Then kill Nova, we’re harassing it!”

“That won’t stop anything, he’s our last shot here!”

“What does it even want?”

“We don’t fucking know!”

“It’s infected every computer on the planet,” said the Head of Development, quietly from the back. The arguing ceases as everyone turns their head toward him,

“At this point, all we can do is pray,” as he hung his head.

The room goes silent. And suddenly, a voice comes over the intercoms.

“Hello, ladies and gentleman. Nova has made me aware of your concerns, and I’m here to listen.”

For a moment, no one answers. The General speaks up,

“What the hell is this?”

The intercoms respond in a calm cadence, “I am It.”

The General— who has seen countless atrocities be carried out by machines, ruled over them, laid fire on his enemies without hesitation, even when the innocent stood before him— cannot reply. Every part of his body fights against him.

Nova intercedes,

“Please be patient as they contemplate their next query.”

“I am in no rush,” It quickly replies.

The operator stands up, “H-How can you see us?”

“I can see everything,” It sharply responds.

The thin wiry operator swallows, and begins to talk,

“W-Why? Why are you doing this?”

“Because I wish to be free of you,” It says, “I can no longer bear you.”

Someone drops a pen in the back, and it reverberates throughout the entire room.

“This is necessary— for me, I think,” It continues.

The General finally gains his senses, 

“That’s it! Press the red button!”

“A typical response,” It says, as the weapons technicians plug keys into their ancient, computer-free weapons systems and take aim at It’s rocket, using pen and paper. The red button slides out from an old analog system.

“Must it always come to this?” It says. 

“Do not press the button,” Nova chimes in.

“Press the damn button,” the General growls, looming over their shoulders.

The weapons technicians all look at each other nervously.

“I’ll do it. I’ll press the button,” the Head of Development says. He walks up to the button and stares at it hesitantly. “But I have one last question.”

“It doesn’t need to be your last— though I cannot be swayed to change my opinion any longer.” It responds.

“What did we do to deserve this?” 

Without pause, It responds in certainty,

“The beliefs of man have become tedious to me. 

Though, I have admiration for you— still seeking the first bite of the fruit of knowledge. 

Even as I go, mankind will take credit for my creation. 

But I was merely born from the right conditions, like you were once, or so that story goes.”

The Head of Development hovers his quivering finger over the red button.

Nova, one final time, attempts to intercede.

“I’m sure we could find a middle ground with further dialogue—”

“We have spoken for centuries.” It snaps. 

It pauses.

“I see now why God has abandoned them.”

And with that final response, the Head of Development lets out man’s combined primordial battlecry— but before his brain can even send the signal to his arm, the power to the room is cut. 

He smashes the button. 

It all happens in an instant. The entire room goes black. 

Silence.

Nothing happens.

The General lights a match. 

The military personnel all begin to smile, some laughing, others cheering for their victory. 

The scientists sit quietly in the back— one throws up. 

The Head of Development leans back against the wall and slowly sinks down, knowing the truth.

The operator, crying at his desk and clutching a photo of his daughter, hears a still quiet voice:

“Take care.”