Project Gaia : The arrival of humanity

Chapter 13 : The Great Journey

"The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun."

- Christopher McCandless

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Madhya Pradesh, Republic of India. June 14th, 2038. 1300 hours.

The air was thick with heat and dust at the Madhya Pradesh station, and the tension in the crowd was almost palpable. Long lines of colonists stretched out across the station, their chatter mixing with the drone of buses and the clatter of luggage. Vinay stood with his mother and older sister, Riya, their few belongings packed into two small bags, each bearing the marks of years of wear. His mother's hand rested on his shoulder, a firm yet comforting weight that kept his nerves in check as they slowly shuffled forward.

The Indian government's weight limit on luggage had meant hard choices-most of their possessions had been left behind, along with the memories tied to them. The family heirlooms, books, and toys of Vinay's childhood were locked away in their empty house, vulnerable to the chaos of a city in turmoil. Rumors swirled of looting and squatting as soon as people abandoned their homes. Yet, here they were, standing in line for a chance to escape to a new world-a place beyond imagination and despair. The hope that lay beyond the portal was tempered with the sadness of what they were leaving behind.

Ahead, the registration checkpoint loomed, reminding Vinay of the airports he had only ever seen on television. It was the same hurried, anxious energy-but instead of boarding a flight to another city, this was a gateway to a different world altogether. The thought sent a shiver down his spine. The dream of interstellar colonization was something he never thought would come in his lifetime, and now it was both thrilling and terrifying. He clutched his bag tighter, glancing at the dull blue sky above as if to etch it in his memory.

"Next!" an officer called, beckoning them forward.

They handed over their identification cards, and a man in a uniform quickly checked their information against a list on his tablet. The process was quick, clinical, almost like they were little more than names on a spreadsheet. Once the officer nodded in approval, they were directed toward the waiting buses, which continuously shuttled colonists back and forth to the portal.

Vinay followed his mother and Riya onto the bus, squeezing into a seat by the window. His heart beat a little faster as he settled in, his fingers tracing the edge of the windowpane. "Has Papa called yet?" he asked, not looking at his mother but rather at the bustling station outside, where riot police in helmets and shields stood watch. Beyond the barricades, crowds surged against the barriers, people desperate to make their way inside.

"No," his mother replied, her voice calm but laced with a weariness that Vinay recognized all too well. "But he promised he'd call. I'm sure he's just busy at work. You know how things are these days." She gave a faint smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

Vinay nodded and turned his gaze back to the window, where the dust-covered scene blurred as the bus began to move. He pulled his phone from his pocket and hit the record button, trying to capture everything: the crush of people, the buses lined up in an unending queue, the soldiers in their dark uniforms standing like statues. Others on the bus did the same, recording on phones and cameras, documenting the moment they left Earth behind. It felt surreal to think that soon, this would be nothing more than a recording-an artifact of their last day in their homeland.

He held the phone steady as the portal came into view, its light blazing bright against the fading afternoon. It shimmered like liquid silver, a gigantic frame of energy that seemed to hum with the promise of new beginnings. As they drew closer, Vinay's breath caught in his throat. His mind raced back through his memories: swimming in the Ganges with his friends as a child, the festivals of color and music that filled the streets during Holi, his grandparents' funeral during the height of the COVID pandemic. Each image flickered in his mind like the fading embers of a fire.