It's been a century since earth became utterly inhabited: most of its inhabitants are now deceased or moved on to other exoplanets. Earth itself however, is dead. Gone, forever twisted and changed by the human race. Anyone who still resides on such a shit hole of a planet are informally designated as 'death dwellers.' often enough their lonely, insanely crippled fuckjobs that are exiled from the supposed 'high-rise' exo-planets. Take my planet for example -- xavada. A home that's hardly homely In the first place. Despite what the billboards and fancy lights tell you, its reality is a complete shitshow.
It's winter on Xavada right now, and the previous year's death toll was released to the public two days ago. Over eight hundred thousand had died. Be it by their own stained hands, or by the crime: the enforcers of this world.
Yet, out of the eight hundred thousand to be agonised, my brother was one of them. All he was? "A Burntout star slaughtered and unwanted by the overseers." Well, at least that's what I was told. I don't get a say in asking further questions unless I rent out a private inspector or agent. Jessica keeps telling me to start saving money for one and to stop spending my winnings at the bar. But to be frank with you I couldn't care less about taking advice from an oddly polite robot.
I keep trying to ask them though. Questions, over and over again--
they always say the same thing.
"Earth died years ago, kid. And humanity died with it."
"Wake up."
YOU ARE READING
𝐀𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄
Science FictionThe earth as we know it- is dead. Left behind in a fit of desperation. All that remains of humanity are overpopulated exoplanets shrouded in the clutches of death, Xavada, being one of them.
