Beyond The Rift

Prologue: Awake

My eyes blinked open, and I found myself engulfed in an impenetrable darkness. Panic surged through my veins as I struggled to grasp the situation. This wasn't my cryo-chamber, and I couldn't see a thing. The sensation of vulnerability clawed at me as I frantically tried to assess my surroundings.

"Welcome back, Ava," a disembodied voice announced, devoid of any discernible emotion. "You have been in cryosleep for 200 years and 37 days."

Earth had become a graveyard of dreams and promises, a testament to humanity's collective failure. The once-pristine oceans had transformed into vast, desolate wastelands, their waters murky and choked with debris. The cities, once teeming with life and energy, lay in ruins, their once-gleaming towers now crumbling monoliths of decay.

The land itself had suffered immeasurably. Endless stretches of scorched earth stretched out before me, a harsh reminder of the relentless heatwaves that had plagued the planet for centuries. Once-verdant forests had withered into skeletal remnants of their former glory, their canopies reduced to a barren, lifeless expanse.

The atmosphere was a suffocating blanket of pollution, its noxious fumes obscuring the once-pure blue sky. Acid rain fell from the heavens, its corrosive touch leaving scars on the already wounded landscape.

The remnants of humanity, those who had not been fortunate enough to secure a place on New Terra, lived in desperate conditions. They huddled in makeshift shelters, eking out a meager existence in a world that had turned its back on them. The suffering and despair etched on their faces were a stark contrast to the beauty and abundance of this new world.

The worst part, perhaps, was the knowledge that it didn't have to be this way. We had been warned, we had seen the signs, and yet we had allowed greed and short-sightedness to drive us to the brink of extinction. Earth's suffering was a direct consequence of our own choices, a harsh indictment of our failure to protect the planet we called home.

As I emerged from the cryo-chamber, the gravity of the situation weighed on me, crushing my chest like a vice. The robotic voice's cold recitation only fueled the flames of my anger and grief. It was an emotion I had harbored since the moment I chose cryosleep, leaving the world I knew behind.

My heart raced, and my breathing quickened. I attempted to sit up, but my body felt unusually heavy and unresponsive. I remembered the decision I had made, the choice to enter cryosleep, a desperate gamble to survive the impending doom of Earth. But what had transpired in the centuries since?

"Where am I?" My voice trembled, parched from disuse.

"You are aboard the SS Novus," the voice replied, its tone as clinical as before, offering no further elucidation.

The name held no significance for me, and frustration boiled within me. In the oppressive darkness, my senses strained for any clues. All I could perceive was the distant hum of machinery, a lonely soundtrack to my disorientation. Memories of how I had come to be on this spaceship remained shrouded in uncertainty, like fragments of a forgotten dream.

"Tell me what's happening." My voice took on a newfound determination. I couldn't bear to be kept in the dark any longer.

The voice hesitated for a moment, then offered a cryptic response that did little to quell my growing unease. "You will be briefed on the situation shortly. Please remain calm."

Remaining calm was easier said than done in this pitch-black void. I strained my ears for any sound, my mind racing to piece together the puzzle of my circumstances. How had I ended up here, and why was everything so shrouded in secrecy?

Minutes, or perhaps hours, ticked by in agonizing silence. My frustration deepened, but I knew I had to gather my thoughts. I needed to be prepared for whatever revelation awaited me.