I woke in a strange bed, which itself was in a large, unfamiliar room. Around me were a collection of machines and tubes, one of which was clamped to my face by elasticated straps. Chromium mannequins dressed in medical scrubs roved the tiled floor between the foot of my bed and the adjacent wall, clicking and whirring as they made their way from one task to another. I recognised them as robotic nurses from some TV show.
“Good evening, Mister Craws,” said a voice. I turned my head to see a robot hovering to one side of my bed, a fresh set of tubes wrapped in sealed bags clutched in her three-fingered hands. “I’m Nurse 4. I’m here to change your breathing tube.”
I tried to speak, just a pleasantry, but the current device blocked all attempts.
“It’s okay,” she soothed, “you can’t speak with that in your mouth. Just relax.”
I let my head fall and she efficiently removed my mask and tube, replacing it before I could utter a word.
“I’m sure you have questions,” she said in her elevator announcement voice, “but they can wait. For the time being you should understand you are seriously ill, which is why you are here in the survivors’ medical facility.”
She glanced at the read-out panel on the side of what I believed to be a ventilator.
“All is satisfactory,” she said, “we can keep you going for the time being, at least until you have completed your task.”
I tried to sit up, no-one could take that lying down, but she placed a firm hand on my chest and prevented me from rising.
“Sorry, I should not have been so blunt,” she said. “You are understandably confused. I will explain.”
I relaxed slightly, but fear rose in my bowels. I waited for further words, hopefully those of comfort.
Instead she said, “Humanity has gone, you and the others in this room are all that’s left. Seven people, out of billions. The plague striking just a few months ago has all but wiped out the population. You woke from your coma first, so you have to do the last post.”
I cocked my head to one side and raised my eyebrows trying to look quizzical.
“This,” she said, pulling a tablet computer from a drawer. “You have to make the last post on Facebook before we shut it down. It’s consuming resources and with no humans left, apart from those in this room, it’s a waste, frankly.”
I reached out a trembling hand and tapped the onscreen keyboard, then pressed enter. It was done. Then Nurse 4 injected me in the neck and everything went black.
“What did he say,” Nurse 1 asked. Nurse 4 lifted the pad and displayed the screen.
“It was fun. lol. Smiley face.” She replied. “Poor grammar. They will not be missed.” They turned off the lights and exited the now silent room to sit in their charging cupboards and wait.