Astra's Blue dawns

Chapter 1

Author's disclaimers:

1. because it's hard science fiction, text has a lot of technical details. In a case, if it's not convenient to explain them just inside text, I use notes, like this: [1]. Please check end of the chapter in order to find explanation.

2.  English is not author's native language. Author is immigrant in English-speaking country, and according to language benchmarks, has C1 level (the first level of advanced English). It's far from ability to write well-adjusted literature text. Because of it, author uses ChatGPT to translate what she wrote on her first language, then edit what she got from it before publish. Any feedbacks regarding style/English will be very appreciated!

3. Author planning to have 21 chapters.

4. This story is not very positive. Opposite, you can expect warm, but sad emotions.

Year 420 of the Martian calendar, 15th of September-2[1], evening, Astra

I'm standing in the airlock chamber, waiting for the automatic system to pump the air into the storage tank and replace it with the Martian atmosphere, which, despite the terraforming attempt made several centuries ago, remains unfit for breathing. The rubberized walls of the chamber tremble from the motor's work, but its initially loud sound fades as the pressure decreases.

In my hand is a makeshift spyglass[2]. I crafted it myself, following an assignment from the Sector management orders, who have long since lost almost all optical technologies and greedily purchase such devices from the caravans of the Trade League that arrive every few years. 

There's nothing special about it compared to store-bought devices, except for the image stabilization. What's remarkable is something else: only because of this spyglass, or rather, because I got fascinated with optics, reading about it extensively and solving problems from Earth textbooks written before the Singularity Catastrophe[2], I'm still alive. And it's also thanks to this that I'm now a slave. Or, as the locals of the Sector call me, a "la nogfler"[3].

The airlock door is open.  I step outside and glance back at my home, casting long shadows in the evening sunlight. It consists of two rusty metal barrels, with an inflatable airlock attached, all set on rusty struts that look like pieces of old rails. I guess I should be glad that I live in a separate house and not in the barracks, like most of the non-specialist nogflers in the Sector.

I should, but I can't. I can't because it's all too much for me. I'm exhausted, and I feel utterly alone, since there's no one left for me except my aunt, with whom I have anything but a good relationship. Yesterday's argument with her, as she once again tried to marry me off to the miner Duper, drove me to tears. I sobbed uncontrollably until the computer-pipboy implanted in my arm, having received information from my neurochip about my psychological state, decided to end my hysteria by injecting a cocktail of substances into my bloodstream to help with this condition. However, I think it only made things worse: when I cried in the past, tears brought catharsis. But ever since I ended up with the fungjans, tears and other outward signs of hysteria have been forbidden for me, as for all nogflers. Outward signs, not inward. The internal feeling of dark hopelessness hasn't left me, and it still clouds my thoughts.

The task could have been done by testing the spyglass on the landscape objects in the settlement where I live, but I desperately needed some fresh impressions, something to distract me from yesterday—a little adventure, something entirely new! I decided to use my own spyglass to look at Earth, the mysterious cradle of humanity, and the birthplace of the posthumans—the powerful representatives of the superintelligence that replaced humanity as the dominant race throughout the Solar System, except for Mars.