Is this the human existence?
Hiding in the empty husk of our polluted, damned, hellish world, hoping, praying for salvation?
If you walk down any street you'll see homeless people skulking in alleyways, slowly dying of either radiation poisoning, or lung cancer from the smoggy skies above. Every few buildings is a large, luminescent billboard that plays the same message on a loop over ad over again, no matter what. The government seal flashes proudly across the screen along with a chorus of fanfare cheesy enough to make anyone's eyes roll in their sockets. And then the message in the Governor's deep, resonant voice;
'Our deep space probes have found a planet…
Over fifty years journey away…
That can support life…
NEW WORLD!
Uninhabited…
Untouched…
A brand new worldto call our own.
Passengers to our new home will remain in hyper sleep until the ships arrive.
Send in applications to your nearest government office, or apply online.
NOTE; Only five places for passengers remain, and another twelve caretaker places. Any last minute applications will be accepted.'
People with ragged clothes and empty faces stand in clusters around each screen, content just to stare at the photos of New World that cycle across the screen, green, rolling hills, vast blue oceans, clear blue skies that they knew none of them would ever see.
"I wonder what fresh air smells like…"
Thing is, even though most people would kill to live on New World, fifty percent of them are too scared, consumed with the concern that space travel is just too new, and what if we crash, and what if we go to the wrong place, and what if it's worse that here, what if, what if, what if. That sort of thinking will never get you anywhere. The other forty-nine percent are content in their less-than-mediocre lives. Lord knows why. Me? I'm in that one percent that is willing to take the risk.
I'm sick of living on this awful, godforsaken planet where people can't last five minutes without breaking out into a brawl in the middle of the street, and people die of horrible diseases like Ebola and Gangrene every day, even though the medicine is more advanced than it's ever been. People just can't afford it.
It's days like this where I wish I could go back to the days before the wars, when I was young. Get back to nature.
I would give anything to see my little blue cottage nestled into the hillside over-looking the sea. And suddenly, I'm back there-
Dangling my legs over the cliff, watching the waves crash against the jagged rocks below-
Running through the trees-
Mud squelching between my toes-
Running my fingers over rough tree bark-
Twigs snapping beneath my feet-
A pure, earthy, wonderful smell wafting on the breeze, fresh air flowing through my lungs…
And another air raid swoops over heard, and another round of bombs goes off down town as I slip into a backstreet that leads to my house-
And I hate this place; I really, really hate this place.
I pat the front pocket of my jeans as I slip through the front door and toss my coat aside. Still there.
Home for me is a dingy, one bedroom apartment in the worse-off part of town that I share with my twenty-five year old daughter. The apartments around us are all derelict, abandoned and rotting, and as a result, we don't have to pay rent.
"Nic!" I call as I close the door quietly behind me, and lock it. "Lock the fire escape door and close up all the windows, the bombs have started up again."
"Okay mum!" I hear her yell from somewhere in the darkness. It smells like mildew and rotting wood in here. I reach for the light switch before I remember that there's never any electricity on our street. Force of habit I guess.
Even if there were electricity, it would be far too risky to use it. It would be like painting a target on the roof, lighting a fire, and yelling 'Hey guys, come and bomb us' at the planes flying high above. I don't think they ever really leave. Just hover menacingly just out of sight waiting to swoop in and bomb the hell out of any gathering that looks over a hundred people.
Forget about using the internet. It's all monitored by government agencies anyway. If you so much as search up anything to do with war, weapons, or anything even mildly threatening, they'll trace it back to your address and have you arrested before you even have time to close the tab.
It's why we live the way we do. It's less risky that way.
I reach into my pocket and pull out two envelopes, both complete with the government seal, with Nic's name on one, and mine on the other.
This is it. Do or die.
I break the seal on mine, unfold the thick, plasticy paper and immediately breathe a sigh of relief.
'Congratulations, Brenda Coyle.
You have been accepted as a passenger on the first convoy to New World.
The departure date is the twenty-seventh of August, three days from now. Bring only the essentials- no ore than a bag or small suitcase weighing two kilograms.
Report to city hall on August twenty-seventh, and await instructions from there.
Once you have read this letter, you are considered a threat, and may be charged for treason should you disclose any information about this operation.
Signed,
Governor Clayton'
I smile, cracking open the other envelope, elation flooding through me as I see the same message with Nic's name on it. Thank god. I know that probably the only reason Nic and I have been accepted is because I've had training as a pilot, and Nic's a gifted healer.
Neither of us are particularly religious like most of the people taking this first flight, we're not rich, and we don't have any connections. It's a wonder we got in.
A miracle. A wonderful, amazing, brilliant miracle.
"Nic!" I call out, hearing her move through the house towards me, "Come quick! I have news!"
She appears out of the darkness in front of me, dark brown hair tucked behind her ears. "Oh my god, mum! Are you okay?" she touches the side of my face, fingers trailing down my arm.
I roll my eyes. "I was caught in the middle of a brawl, again, but listen, there's something I need to-"
"Shush, I'm going to stitch you up before you tell me anything."
She disappeared again, and seconds later re-appeared holding our emergency kit. "Sit still, I'm going to inject some antibiotics into that gash on your forehead, otherwise it could become infected."
There is a sharp pain at my temple as the needle goes in, then a cool, numbing sensation spreads outwards to the rest of my forehead. I sigh.
"Guess what."
Nic rolls her eyes. "What?"
I hold up the letters while she puts away the syringe, "We got in."
"What?" she drops the kit and turns to face me, eyes wide and shocked.
"I said we got in!"
"Really?!"
A broad grin lights up her face, she grabs me by the shoulders and spins me around.
"Oh my god, mum I can't believe it! We're actually going to New World!"
"I know!"
We laugh together, still spinning and jumping and whooping with joy.
Our lives are about to get a whole lot better.
Just three more days.
