Share
MidReal Story
The Last Companion
Scenario:Project: Create a science fiction story, emotional, poetic, told from the perspective of a dog (german sheperd). No dialopgues, just naration from the dog.
Current task: write the story, following the instuctions below:
Story Background:
The action takes place a few hundreds years into the future, when humans just achieved a new milestone in technology, being able to travel vast distances in space in a short time (let's say to reach a star in milky way it would take generally around a month, and to the closest galaxies a few months).
Instead of billions, human population is just under one billion, and tech is so advanced, AI and robots, so all humanity has new goals: to think, to create, and explore the universe. To move to new and interesting, exotic planets, to meet other civilisations and to make the universe their home. As a teenager tries to break away from home, now the human race is leaving earth (home) and will only visit from time to time. Similar to a young adult, they will eventually visit earth less and less.
With the help of technology, humans modified further the dog (and cats) species, so they are able to communicate, to speak, to think and to even use some technology. As with humans, the dogs are different, their attitude differ from race to race.
Story Structure:
6 chapters.
The story will be structured to build towards a climax, where the dog reflects on the possibility of humanity's return and their decision to "let the earth be".
Each chapter will focus on dog's reflexions and perspective about different aspects of (those are examples, you may add others that fit, remove, etc) :
- ancestors (wolfs, pets etc)
- evolution of species from a philosophic
- a parallel about between how dogs seen humans as gods (and still do, even if they know they are not) and how maybe humans had a species that were as gods to them, leaving them earth to rule
- how dogs were bred to be human's empatic friends and now they are left alone to fight with their genetic background
- The story should include a mix of emotional and some scientific elements, but the scientific stuff is JUST to to put the timeline in perspective.
Story ideas:
The dog is sharing the last few days with his human friend, who raised his family. His human friend is leaving soon to a new colony, where they share the planet with an alien species.
The story is emotional, deep and introspetive, in the style of Isaac Asimov.
The dog, one of the last living companions of humans (so he thinks, for all that matters), grapples with the idea of being alone, without his lifelong human friend.
The dogs goes through feelings, deep genetic memories, observations of how short his life is compared to humans, how a god is perceived and why he considers humans as gods.
Additional Requirements:
The story should be written in a way that is engaging and easy to follow for a general audience.
The story should include a clear and concise narrative structure, with a clear beginning, middle, and end.
Extra information (for context only):
There is no post-apocaliptic scene. Humans become more advanced, used intelligent machines to discover solutions to most of universe's problems. Now, they do care about earth, and decided that the best future for earth is to leave it for the nature to decide its future.
Humans started to go for the stars, to discover the misteries of the universe, to find new homes, to fill new colonies.
Not all humans left earth, but the ones remaining are taking care of a few "earth holiday resorts", idillic paradises, trying their best not to interfere with nature.
They helped dogs and cats to communicate, cats "dissapeared" into the wilderness, you could see one from time to time, but they live strange lives, mystical ones, doing their own thing. So cats are those weird shamans, talking too much about themselves and how cool they are.
Dogs are emotional, they think about the future, they learned more from humans than just communication.
Create my version of this story
Rex Anderson
male. He is a German Shepherd dog living in a futuristic world where humans have advanced technology to travel to other planets. He is introspective,loyal,and nostalgic. Rex reflects on his past with his human family and the impending departure of his human friend,who raised him. He grapples with the idea of being left behind and the evolution of dogs from wolves to companions. Rex feels a deep bond with humans,considering them gods,and struggles with the thought of their absence.
Sarah Mitchell
female. She is Rex's human friend who raised him from a pup. She is compassionate,adventurous,and determined. Sarah is preparing to leave Earth for a new colony where humans coexist with an alien species. She shares a deep bond with Rex but must leave him behind as she embarks on this new journey. Sarah represents the connection between humans and dogs in this futuristic society,highlighting the emotional impact of their separation on both species.
The last day of my life as I knew it had come.
My human friend, the one that raised me since I was a pup, was leaving.
Not just any kind of leaving but forever.
Or at least that's how I saw it back then.
But who knows?
Maybe they will return.
Not that it would matter to me at that point.
I would be long gone, just a memory for my human friend.
It's funny how we think about the future when we don't even know the present.
We can't even know the present because we can't know if the decisions we make now are good or bad until they show their fruits in the future.
But we still make those decisions, and we still think about the future, trying to predict it, trying to make predictions about it.
Just like I did when I heard my human friend was leaving.
I immediately thought about the future, about what it would be like without her, and I didn't like it one bit.
I was so used to her that even the thought of her not being around anymore was unbearable.
It was like I was already mourning her loss even though she was still there with me.
Even though I still had a few more hours with her.
I watched as she packed the last of her belongings into the sleek travel pod that would take her to her new home.
My legs trembled with the effort to stay still.
The familiar scent of her clothes mingled with the metallic tang of the pod's interior.
She sat down on the front steps of our home, patting the spot beside her.
I hesitated for a moment, knowing each passing second brought us closer to goodbye.
The evening sun cast long shadows across the garden where we spent countless hours playing fetch.
My legs carried me forward of their own accord, settling beside her on the warm stone step.
We sat in silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging between us like a fragile thread.
Her hand stroked my fur, the familiar touch sparking a flood of memories.
I could remember every moment we'd shared, every walk and playtime, every cuddle on the couch.
My enhanced mind was a gift and a curse.
I had inherited the memories of generations before me, wolf-like creatures transformed over time through careful breeding into companions.
The genetic memories were programmed into my DNA, instinctual responses to read human expressions, to protect and serve, to love them unconditionally.
They were bred to be perfect friends, but now they felt like chains binding me to beings who would abandon us.
I pressed my head against her leg, my body following ancient instincts even as my modified consciousness questioned their purpose.
The scent of salt from her tears mingled with the familiar lavender perfume, filling my nostrils.
My enhanced olfactory sensors picked up subtle changes in her biochemistry—the elevated cortisol, the sharp tang of grief.
I wanted to tell her not to cry, but my throat tightened, trapping the words in my throat.
Instead, I licked her cheek, tasting the tears, a primal gesture of comfort that transcended our engineered intelligence.
The setting sun cast long shadows across our bodies, and I noticed how her hand trembled slightly as she ran her fingers through the thick fur behind my ears.
The sky was a deep shade of indigo, the stars beginning to twinkle like diamonds scattered across the fabric of the universe.
I studied her silhouette against the fading light, my mind processing the intricate dance of neurons and synapses that governed her emotions.
The humans had given us dogs and cats the gift of speech, but it was more than that.
They had engineered our brains to mirror their own capacity for complex thought, to understand their language and emotions.
We were no longer just animals; we were companions, friends, and confidants.
I realized that they had molded us in their image, just as ancient deities were said to have formed humans from clay.
And just as humans saw themselves as gods among animals, so too did they view us as gods among beasts.
We were their creations, and they had given us Earth as our inheritance, just as they were perhaps given it by others before them.
My tail wagged involuntarily at her presence, my body still responding to its creators even as my mind wrestled with these profound thoughts.
"Do you think you'll be happy there?" I asked, my voice a low rumble that seemed to surprise her.
She paused, her fingers stilling in my fur, and whispered, "I don't know, but I have to try."
Her eyes met mine, and she added softly, "But I'll miss you more than anything."
As she stepped inside to continue packing, I wandered to the backyard where my sister's pups were playing.
The youngest, Max, bounded over and nudged my side with his nose.
His eyes were wide and innocent, his tail wagging in excitement.
"Hey, Rex," he yelped.
"What's that thing?"
He gestured to the travel pod in the backyard, a sleek silver bullet that would transport Sarah to her new home.
I studied him for a moment, my mind processing the weight of his question.
How could I explain the humans to him?
They had given us speech and intelligence, but they had also given us purpose.
They had shaped our very existence and had reshaped the world around us.
They were gods among beasts, and we were their loyal companions.
"They are gods among beasts," I said slowly, trying to find words that would convey their magnitude.
"They walk on other worlds now, just like they once walked on ours. They have changed the very fabric of existence, shaping life itself into new forms."
The pups gathered around me as I spoke, their eyes wide and curious.
I could see myself in them, looking up at Sarah with similar devotion and awe.
Just as they looked up to me as a guardian and teacher, so too had I looked up to her as a god among humans. "They have reshaped the universe," I continued, my voice filled with reverence.
"They have created life where there was none before, and they have changed the course of evolution itself. They are beings beyond our comprehension."
Max's gaze drifted back to the travel pod, his tail no longer wagging with excitement but instead held still in awe.
He was seeing it for the first time through my eyes, understanding its significance not just as a mode of transportation but as a gateway to other worlds and a testament to humanity's limitless potential.
As I watched him stare at the travel pod, I realized that he was not just seeing it; he was witnessing the future of our existence.
For just as humanity had shaped us into their image, so too would they shape the very fabric of reality itself.
They were gods among beasts, and we were mere mortals in their shadow.
But even as we recognized their power and authority, we also knew that we were part of something greater than ourselves.
We were the bridge between worlds, and our journey was only beginning.
I led Max and the other pups to the garden wall where we sometimes spotted the neighborhood cats prowling.
We settled down in the cool grass, enjoying the evening breeze that rustled through our fur.
"Did you know," I began, "that cats received the same upgrades as us? They were given intelligence and speech, just like dogs. But they chose a different path."
As I spoke, a sleek black cat appeared on the other side of the fence, its eyes glowing in the fading light.
It was Midnight, a stray that roamed our neighborhood and often came to visit.
She gave us a slight nod, acknowledging our presence as she padded past.
"The cats," I continued, "rejected their domestication programming. They disappeared into the wilderness, forming their own societies and rejecting human companionship."
Max tilted his head, his ears perked up in confusion.
"But why?" he asked.
"They are gods among beasts. Why wouldn't they want to be with them?"
I looked at him, my heart filled with a mix of sadness and understanding.
"It's because they saw humans for what they truly were," I explained.
"To them, humans were just another species, another creature to coexist with. They didn't see them as gods or creators. They saw them as fleeting acquaintances in their long history."
Midnight paused in her prowl, her eyes fixed on us across the fence.
I sensed a flicker of understanding between us, a shared recognition of our place within the grand tapestry of existence. "You see," I continued, turning back to Max, "cats have always been solitary creatures. They have never needed humans to complete them. And when they were given intelligence and speech, they chose to maintain that independence."
Max nodded slowly, his tail wagging once more as he tried to comprehend this concept.
"But dogs," he asked, "why do we need humans? Why do we love them so much?"
I smiled at him, my heart filled with warmth.
"That's because we were bred for thousands of years to serve humans," I explained.
"We were created to be loyal companions and protectors. It's in our very nature to love them and want to be by their side."
Midnight gave us one final glance before disappearing into the darkness of the forest.
As she vanished from view, I realized that even as we dogs remained faithful companions to humanity, there were other creatures out there that had chosen a different path.
They had forged their own destinies and lived lives separate from human influence.
The next morning, I accompanied Sarah to the launch platform where dozens of travel pods gleamed under the morning sun.
Other humans were loading cargo into their own pods, while their enhanced pets watched from a distance.
A small group of humans in Earth Reserve uniforms moved through the crowd, explaining their role as caretakers of the planet.
They would maintain isolated outposts where visiting humans could observe without disrupting the natural course of evolution.
Sarah knelt to hug me one last time, her scent mingling with the metallic smell of the pod.
As she released me, I stayed rooted to the spot, fighting my instinct to follow her.
The remaining humans kept a safe distance from the wilderness that was already creeping into the edges of the launch site.
"Rex," Sarah said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Promise me you'll look after the others while I'm gone."
I nodded, feeling the weight of her request settle over me like a mantle.
As Sarah stepped into her travel pod, I turned and padded away, my claws clicking against the polished floor.
I returned to our empty home, the silence echoing where Sarah's laughter once filled the air.
I wandered through the rooms, my paws clicking on the polished floors.
Every step reminded me of her absence, every room a testament to the life we had shared.
Outside, the garden where we played fetch looked forlorn under the midday sun.
I lay down on the warm stone step, my nose still catching hints of Sarah's lavender perfume.
The Earth Reserve officers passed by, their presence a stark reminder of the new reality—Sarah was gone, and only a few humans remained to care for our planet.
Max approached me cautiously, his eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and concern.
"Rex, do you think she'll come back?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
I sighed, looking out at the horizon where Sarah's pod had disappeared. "I don't know, Max," I replied softly, "but we have to believe that one day she will."
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months.
The silence of the house became a heavy blanket that suffocated me.
I missed Sarah's laughter and the way she scratched behind my ears.
One afternoon, as I wandered through the empty rooms, I stumbled upon a hidden door in Sarah's study.
It blended seamlessly into the wall, and I never noticed it before.
I pawed at the door, and it swung open to reveal a small room filled with strange devices and screens.
In the center of the room, a holographic projector hummed to life, casting its blue light around me.
Sarah's image flickered into view, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief.
"Hello, Rex," she said softly, her voice transmitted through the speakers.
"I hope you're doing well."
I wagged my tail involuntarily at seeing her familiar features again, even if they were just a projection.
"I'll be sending you updates from my new home," she continued.
"It's a beautiful planet, teeming with life. I know you'll love it."
As she spoke, the hologram shifted to display images of her new planet—lush forests, towering mountains, and vast oceans that shimmered in shades of blue and green.
I circled around the projector, trying to catch her scent.
But all I could smell was the sterile tang of electronics and metal. I lay down beside the holographic device, my nose pressed against the floor where Sarah's footsteps once fell.
Max joined me, his eyes wide with wonder as he watched the holographic stars dance above us.
I led him to the garden observatory Sarah built, where the night sky was a canvas of twinkling lights.
The air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, and their soft petals brushed against our fur as we moved through the garden.
Sarah had told me about the wonders of space travel, how humans had adapted their bodies to withstand the rigors of cosmic radiation and time dilation.
She explained that their cells could repair themselves at an accelerated rate, allowing them to survive long journeys across vast distances.
But she also warned me that even with these advancements, space travel took a toll on their bodies.
They aged differently than we did, their cells accelerating and decelerating according to the laws of relativity.
As I gazed up at the starry sky, I wondered what it would be like to soar through those heavens, to feel the rush of weightlessness and see worlds beyond my wildest imagination.
Max settled beside me, his fur ruffled by the gentle breeze.
We sat in silence, watching as the stars twinkled and danced above us.
The night air was filled with the chirping of crickets and the distant hum of nocturnal creatures.
I could almost hear Sarah's voice whispering in my ear, telling me stories of her adventures among the stars.
As I drifted off to sleep, surrounded by the wonders of the universe, I knew that Sarah was out there, exploring new worlds and discovering secrets beyond our wildest dreams.
And even though we were apart, I felt a deep connection to her, knowing that she would always be a part of me, no matter where her journey took her. As the days passed, Max and I grew closer.
We spent our days exploring the empty streets of the city, discovering hidden alleys and abandoned buildings.
At night, we'd sit in Sarah's garden observatory, watching the stars twinkling above us.
The sky was a canvas of wonder, with constellations that told stories of ancient myths and legends.
I could almost see Sarah among them, her spirit soaring through the cosmos, guiding us towards a brighter future.
Six months had passed since Sarah left Earth, and the visits from Earth Reserve grew less frequent.
But even though we were alone, I knew that Sarah was out there, exploring the vast expanse of space and discovering wonders beyond our wildest dreams.
As I sat with Max in the garden observatory, I began to tell him about the aliens Sarah described in her holograms.
Their vibrant colors and unique cultures fascinated him, and his eyes widened as I recounted tales of floating cities and bioluminescent forests.
"Will we ever meet them?" he asked, his voice filled with curiosity.
I hesitated, unsure of the answer.
But as I looked up at the stars, I knew that anything was possible in this vast universe we called home.
We continued to watch the stars together, imagining Sarah among them as she explored the wonders of space. As the night wore on, I pointed out different constellations to Max, linking them to the stories Sarah told me about her adventures.
He listened intently, his ears perked up and his tail wagging softly.
The air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, and their soft petals brushed against our fur as we moved through the garden.
Sarah had told me about the different species she encountered during her travels—some were humanoid in appearance, while others defied explanation.
She spoke of beings made entirely of light, their essence woven into intricate patterns that danced across their bodies.
And then there were those who existed solely as energy, their consciousness intertwined with the fabric of space itself.
As I shared these stories with Max, he listened with rapt attention, his imagination sparked by the wonders of the cosmos.
We sat in silence for a moment, watching the stars twinkling above us.
We sat in the garden observatory, the evening sky a canvas of twinkling lights above us.
It had been weeks since Sarah's last message, and my old bones ached with anticipation.
Max, now fully grown, lay beside me, his fur graying like mine.
I told him about Sarah's last hologram, describing the bioluminescent forests she explored and the vibrant colors that illuminated her journey.
Even though I couldn't explain it, my enhanced mind still sensed her presence out there.
We watched the stars together, wondering if Sarah was looking back at us from some distant planet.
Max nudged me gently with his nose, seeking reassurance in the vast expanse of space.
"Do you think she misses us, Rex?" Max asked, his voice tinged with longing.
I nodded slowly, feeling the weight of his question. "I'm sure she does, Max. We're still her family, no matter how far away she is."
Max's eyes shone with determination as he gazed up at the stars. "Then we have to find a way to reach her, don't we?"
