I gave a big stretch and slowly attempted to open my eyes. The effort seemed so futile, but I am a divergent--I need to continue to try.

We are a planet of Androids.

The world has long ago given up on most body functions, eliminating our need for limbs and organs. We no longer need to eat or breathe to sustain life. It is hard to define the world as being human any more. Over the last one-thousand years since the big disaster, scientists learned how to replace body parts with machines.

I am one of a small group--the divergents or DVs, as most call us freaks. We've fought century after century to retain our humanity. When gravity became denser and heavy, mobility became almost impossible. Within the first two-hundred years, people opted for genetic re-engineering, first having their own legs amputated and then sacrificing their heirs from ever knowing what it felt like to walk on the earth. Reconstruction centres popped up everywhere; a genetic erasure became a procedure that took moments and forever, changed what human beings looked like.

The centres have shifted from focusing on the bodies and now are offering to re-program our computer brains, effectively wiping out memories and allowing citizens to choose the mood and live a docile life.

I can still plug into my memory banks and experience the tears of my ancestors as their world was dissolving. The Androids do not wish to understand fear and misery. I come from a long line of rebels who so far, have been allowed to continue our research. My tribe fought the dismantling of the human body, and for those of us who are still remaining, we continue our battle against Administration's effort to play God.

There is no need for God in our world. Free will does not exist. Malfunctions in Android brains are dealt with swiftly. Power is denied and the machinery simply ceases to exist. If I go deeply into my memory files, I find relatives who felt the hand of God and worshipped His power. No explanations are available to me why so much emphasis was placed on an unknown deity. It simply doesn't seem relevant or hold any interest for me. And yet the admininistration prefers to be thought of, and addressed, by the title God.

Once there were colonies that occupied our world. They are often referred to as countries. After the big disaster, many were destroyed and others were led by figure-heads, all human, who began a quest for world dominance. Anarchy reigned, and instead of trying to rebuild and re-store the remaining continents, their efforts proved worthless and the wars raged for another two-hundred years. It was only after the first landing that some order was re-established. The administrators arrived in the centre of a blinding light, hurling their power into the atmosphere and taking control over what was left of Earth. Anarchists were neutralized and a gospel was issued, a set of rules and tenets that we were forced to obey.

My great-great-grandfather was among the last harvesters. For many aeons the harvesters collected human body parts still not decayed. These were taken to laboratories and nurtured until they were put to use. The new Gods tried valiantly to maintain the human race during their occupation of Earth. What remained of humans was patched together and new life forms emerged. They were still able to propagate and the off-spring of this experiment proved the strongest race yet to inhabit the earth. They were the forefathers of our new world. I have serial numbers engraved on the inside of my titanium torso that are evidence of my rights as a descendent. All deviants retain special rights and I am grateful that I am able to continue to record the past and be part of future generations.

The DVs are immune to the administrators' global programs unless we lose our remaining human flesh. I still have most of my head intact, though most other parts of me have long been replaced with metals and optics that operate my body. I am considered one of the 'lucky ones.' Some DVs continue with little more than a fingernail to define their humanity. It is for this reason that I fight to open my eyes. It is a daily struggle to keep my remaining flesh and avoid extinction.

Even though my eyes are still functional, there isn't very much to look at. Once I was permitted to study something that the administrators called a painting. The picture with its vibrant colours was a shocking contrast to the greyness of the world. I spent all my active time studying the canvas, examining each brush stroke and trying to record the colours. I tried very hard to not look at the entire picture at once. The first time I did so, my liquids coursed through my tubes, raising my inner temperature to dangerous levels. I had come very close to burning off my face and the heat threatened my eyes.

Though not needed to see, my eyes are rich with genetic coding and biopsies remove seeds that are used in the reproduction process. Of the million or more seeds harvested, I am told a full five percent, a formidable number, were brought to life. I long to see one child, to study what a human looks like in its natural state, but that is something I know better than to request. My children are taken off of earth almost immediately after their first breath and taken to the new planet.

The painting I was brought was the first complete human I'd ever seen in my lifetime. It took me decades to train my functions to remain steady as I enlarged my view, starting with a patch on the left-hand lower corner, until my body was once again strong enough to monitor my control centre. The painting had a name, the Mona Lisa. I've cherished the imprint. Though long taken away, I can still close my eyes and remember every detail of the vision I once studied.

It is hard for me to imagine my eyes are seeding the new planet. It is harder for me to imagine there are fifty-thousand children alive today because my DNA still has the qualities the administrators are using to populate another world in the universe. They are born with all body parts intact--the ideal that once upon a time existed on this planet.

Though a full day has elapsed, I have only succeeded in opening one eye. I fear my shelf-life is coming to an end.

I shall transmit my findings shortly. It is once again time to put my body into a dormant state. The Androids don't require sleep, but while I still have human parts, I must sleep each day, allowing the cells to regenerate. The new Gods enjoy my transmissions. They always acknowledge my efforts by thanking me for my prayers.

It takes ten minutes to shut down all my systems. I use the time, as I do each time I go through my download period, to plug into the memory cells detailing the big disaster. It is part of my legacy to maintain the memory and upload it into my DNA. Without my remaining shreds of humanity, the world will forget, allowing the process to repeat itself in future generations.

The meltdown began early in the twenty-first century when people became aware of the scarring they'd caused on earth. A small group of environmentalists began a campaign to reign in the waste and the movement seized the attention of many global citizens. They looked to the sky and saw evidence of the fall-out from their folly. The ozone layer was damaged, but even earthlings could have survived the consequences. Other worlds posted guardians around the galaxy. They had a vested interest in containing Earth's filth and would have intervened if the pollution threatened to leave The Milky Way.

But the true cause of Earth's path towards demise came not from above, nor at the hands of those that had the ability to destroy the planet. It came from deep in the bowels, hundreds of miles beneath her crust. There were instructions, a charter outlining survival, left behind by ancient travellers. The world did not listen.

The first rule was to look within and had the leaders understood the basic principal of this lesson, not only would there have been a spiritual awakening, but they would have saved the Earth from the implosion within its core. Hundreds of years of burrowing beneath the surface, mining for fuels and minerals had left fault lines, cavities, and tunnels, like spider veins waiting for a transfusion to fill the void.

In time, these tunnels began to collapse, sending tsunamis, creating catastrophic earthquakes and tilting the earth. It began to shift by centimetres, but there was an accumulated effect that could not be harnessed. The day of the big disaster, a ripple effect began in a land called Indonesia and circled the globe. Like a domino effect, one weakness touched another until the world rattled as it spun off its axle.

If left unchecked, the new orbit would have brought the planet on a trajectory that would have hit the sun. The fall-out from this cosmic explosion would reach the far corners of the universe. Life, not only on earth, but in all the worlds would cease.

The guardians intervened and pushed back the planet, but they could not restore its orbit to the former path. One disaster followed another as mountains heaved and oceans emptied. The human carnage was disastrous and all life forms were threatened with extinction.

In an unprecedented intervention, a new rule was delivered to Earth.

"The human race is the biggest asset this planet still retains. Guard it well."

Yes, I am a divergent, still a believer in cosmic justice, but I can still call myself a man.

The systems have almost completed their shut-down process and soon I will sleep once again. I hope that tomorrow both eyes will open and I can continue to provide seeds for the new world that is living beyond.