The Extinction Trials(2)

“I’m going to put that on a t-shirt. That’ll be my new job. T-shirt salesman.”

She smiled. “Always a tough one. But I know you listen too. And I know you’ll land on your feet. You just need a little faith. In yourself, most of all.”

She reached over to the bookcase and took out a small paperback and handed it to him.

He read the title: The Birthright. He opened it and flipped to the first page and read it:

Every human is born with a birthright. That birthright is happiness. Our greatest challenge to achieving happiness is not the obstacles we encounter in our life. The true barrier to happiness lies inside of us—and it’s the one thing we can’t ever escape: our own mind.

From birth, we are educated on countless aspects of life, from personal hygiene to personal finance, but there is no widely accepted curriculum for understanding and managing our minds. Indeed, almost every human remains the victim of their own mind throughout their entire life, never learning to master it, or manage it, or even understand it. The Birthright was written to change that. This book is an owner’s manual for a human mind. If you read it and do the maintenance it recommends, your mind will run smoothly. It will break down less often, and in the end, it will take you to your birthright. Indeed, a well-tuned mind is the only road to true and lasting happiness.





Owen closed the book. “It’s not exactly… my type of thing.”

“Your type of thing?”

“Self-help books.”

“It’s not a self-help book—not that there’s anything wrong with them. The Birthright is a book about science and psychology, and most of all, understanding yourself and the world around you.”

“Wonderful,” he muttered. “By the time I read it, the world will probably be changed again.”

“The world is always changing. Always will be. The key to success is accepting that the world will keep changing. The ideas in that book transcend worlds and time.”

Owen’s armband buzzed. The three fast pulses signaled an emergency alert. He activated the band and read the message.

“Sorry, Mom, my disappearing job needs me.”

“An alarm?”

“Probably just a false alarm. See you tomorrow morning.”

He hugged her and turned to leave, but she called to him, “Owen, don’t forget the book.”





Fifteen minutes later, Owen was in the front seat of the fire truck, barreling through the city, sirens blaring. The truck wirelessly shut down the traffic lights and crosswalks ahead. Driverless cars pulled to the side and waited as the hulking vehicle rumbled past.

Owen studied a tablet and called to his two teammates behind him.

“It’s a kitchen fire. Oasis Park Building. Eleventh floor, unit 1107. Auto fire suppression has already extinguished it.”

He was about to continue when the pleasant computer voice of the central AI came over the truck’s speakers.

“The apartment building has fifteen floors and seven hundred and twenty-three registered residents. Scout drones confirm sixty-five infrared signatures currently inside. There is one adult female and one juvenile female in unit 1107. Vital signs normal.”

Owen set his tablet down, annoyed. The AI didn’t even trust him to give the briefing. What bothered Owen the most was that he had to admit the AI was more efficient at the briefing than him. And, in a raging fire, he was glad to have the robots there. They never panicked. They were built to withstand extreme temperatures. Most of all, they were replaceable. Humans were not.

He didn’t miss the danger of fighting fires. But some days—a lot of days lately—he missed going home after his shift and feeling like he had made a difference in someone’s life.

This assignment would probably be like the last ten: he’d investigate the source of the fire (likely human error), explain what happened to the resident, and provide safety tips on how to avoid future fires.

The two firefighters in the backseat had each been on the job less than a year. They were staring out the window with the same sense of excitement Owen had felt fifteen years ago when he had joined the department. He wondered what they would be doing in fifteen years. If they would even be needed.

Another alert popped up on the screen. A resident in unit 403 in the same building had just reported a gas leak. The unit’s safety detector hadn’t gone off. That was strange. Maybe the resident was confused.

“Selena, take 403. Confirm the gas levels and do a welfare check on the resident. Call an ambulance if they seem disoriented.”

“Copy, Lieutenant.” She smiled, seeming happy to have her first solo assignment.

“Cole, we’ll take 1107. Pay attention. You’re taking the lead on the next one.”

He nodded. “Yes, sir.”

On the tablet, three more alerts appeared in buildings across the city—all gas leaks. That was very odd. Was it a malfunction in the detectors? Or maybe a prank: kids hacking the sensors and making false reports.

As the truck rolled to a stop, the rescue drones took flight. They would circle the building, waiting, arms at the ready to take anyone who needed to be evacuated from the building.

Firebots detached from the truck and marched toward the building, clanking on four legs, long arms outstretched, fire suppression tanks on their backs like jetpacks.