Your Harvest Has Been Delayed 

By Sydney Fowler 

“Your harvest has been delayed,”
It spoke. The only person around to hear was Higgs.
“You have been permitted more time to live a just
and fulfilling life for research before your harvest
returns.” Then It disappeared, returning to Its own kind.
Higgs stood in the now empty mall, wondering if more people

were left behind. But he could see no more people.
Higgs was quiet for a moment, processing what he was told with delayed
concern. He had just finished his lunch break when a one of a kind
silence swept through the large building, and he was alone. Higgs
wasn’t quite sure he knew what exactly a “harvest”
was. Maybe they could just

ask. Who would he even ask, when just
about everyone was gone. Higgs began to worry. Without people,
who would do all the jobs? Who would harvest
the crops in the field? Who would run the trains, so they weren’t delayed?
Who would restock shelves and run cash registers? Well, Higgs
could do that part. His job normally was to be kind

to customers and ring up groceries. But how do you be kind
with no one around? He began to hope just
one more person was still here. It will be quite lonely, Higgs
thought, if he was not able to find more people
to share his confusion. He should try to find someone. With little delay,
he began to walk around and observe the stillness the harvest

left behind. Belongings scattered the ground. It seemed that harvesting
everyone’s shoe was unimportant as Higgs stumbled on a sneaker. The kind
that lights up when you stomp your foot. It took a moment, a delay
in the shoe’s sensor, before it twinkled to life. Higgs remembered he had just
seen the girl that was wearing it a few minutes ago. No other people
were found after almost an hour of searching and Higgs

was losing hope. Staring at a faceless mannequin in a display window, Higgs
. . . (harvest)
. . . (people)
. . . (kind)
. . . (just)
. . . (delayed)

. . . (Higgs) . . . (delayed)
. . . (harvest) . . . (just)
. . . (people) . . . (kind) . . .