The last​ one off the planet turns the light off ( Chapter 1)

The view behind the glass changed from city walls to private homes, to vertical farms, to a zoetrope of green fields and ugly shopping malls. I brushed over my stomach. It was still stiff from the procedure. But no pain.

My father picked me up from the station. We passed a few windmills on our way  “I said it from the beginning those things were useless…” he chuckled as he always does. He is a loving man but he repeats himself a lot. I find it hard not to judge his lack of reflection so I just nod. “Are you looking forward to your apartment upgrade?” he asked to get me participating in the conversations. “I do ..” I had to admit reluctantly. The apartment market will ease off when 40% of the population just gets up and leaves.

Last in first out. One of the politicians, likely with an MBA degree,  actually called the project that on national TV. Our recourses have run too low and the climate has been changed beyond repair. Every person up until the age of 25 is getting a ticket off the planet. The rest of us just sits the next 80 or so years out. It was found that after the age of 25 it is too unlikely to change harmful environmental and societal behavior. When saying societal behavior they mostly mean racism.

The politicians could no longer stop ignoring the scientist and their findings. We were too many and we behaved like spoiled brats.

There was a strange calm about it. We had removed pressure from people in such a grand way that no therapist could do.

Everyone who would not leave was sterilized. We were free from the expectations of having to form families. We still had enough luxury goods and services to consume. The older generation that didn’t have anyone leaving decided to spend it on the “living” as they said and paid high salaries. It felt like an oversized graduation party.

In the cities, everything was more or less the same. They had to keep the geeks happy to continue to produce the software running the navigation and communication systems.

In more rural areas factories were set up to build the ships. The people felt purpose, they felt like Noah building the ark. But there were no floods to fear.

We arrived at the old house when it already had gotten dark. The air smelled wet and of mud and something more, a faint whiff of diesel or motor oil.  The construction sites should be somewhere around here.

I grew up here. It was a small village. Nobody stayed here if they didn’t want to farm cows or crypto (it had an incredibly solid electricity grid).

The house was mostly unchanged. My father kept everything clean and tidy. The spare rooms he filled with potted plants. It made the air quality in the house excellent and I slept like a baby not suffocating from the never stopping city dust.

I was pulled out of my blissful slumber sharply at 6 am. I sat up straight and listened. Did a massive freight train park in our garden? I opened the roof window and tried to see through the morning mist for the cause of the incredible noise. What I believed was happening in our garden was actually about a mile out. Huge wheels were just delivered on a platform. Above the platform was something that I first mistook for a warehouse. I couldn’t have been more wrong.  That was it – the ship. It could have easily crushed most of the village if it would have come down from its platform. It was sleek and aerodynamic. It reminded me of an oversized fighter jet.

I had never seen something this breathtakingly beautiful before.

One thought formed in my brain so clearly that I could not ignore it – I need to get on that ship.

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