Post Terravita

Post-Terravita

Chapter 1

It amazes me how life on The Surface could have ever been possible, how life could ever have survived the endless expanse of barren rocky wasteland above The Substratum. Of course, life is virtually impossible now, only the heartiest of microbes could withstand the empty vacuum and extremes in temperature (save beneath the glaciers), but there was once a time centuries ago called the Terravita Age, where the surface was not only a place that was capable of sustaining life, but a place where it thrived. There were things called "Forests", large expanses of land filled with countless trees and lush greenery of every kind, with an unimaginably large variety of alien creatures flourishing in a bright green world. There were vast liquid "Oceans" with an endless expanse of water that engulfed the globe, their shining blue waters so abundant, they could be seen from outer space. And there were cities packed with people, with titanic buildings so tall they seemed to scrape the "Sky", which was what the gaseous substances that floated on The Surface was called. A sky, I could only imagine what it was like. They say it was blue, a color only found in paints and pencils nowadays. I can only imagine what that time was like.

As I lay there, visualizing a living Earth, I am stirred by the buzzer signifying the beginning of Labor Hours. Everyone must do their part in maintaining what's left of the human population, and those who don't work, don't eat, unless by means of theft, which is virtually impossible and is a massive waste of time. As soon as the bright bleep of the buzzer cuts out, I stand, stretch, and walk out the door, heading for the Orchards, my footsteps echoing on the white tile floor.

The white hall outside is already filled with people, all of whom being out for the same purpose as myself. The people that surround me are all inhabitants of Lot 15, one measly aluminum building amongst countless others, all there for the purpose of housing workers. There are no strangers in this lot. It has grown to be some kind of community, a family even, which is inevitable considering we're all in one building, but I appreciate that, for I have none of my own. I never knew my parents. My father died working in the mines, and my mother died in labor. They say she was very kind; selfless even, which is almost ironic. My brother was the one who raised me; he was a great man, being the first human in centuries with the idea to bring life back to The Surface. Ever since The Great Burning, the remaining human race feared everything above The Substratum, hiding deep underneath, but he had the bright idea to reclaim the planet that was once ours. Using many inventions (most copying those before The Burning) he had found a way to re-enter and explore the vindictive land above. He had made The Surface a place to explore, rather than fear.

I have never seen The Surface in person, but, considering my relations, I can't help but have a general idea. From what I have learned, it's a barren yet beautiful place; rocky, mountainous, and riddled with ruins and traces of Terravitan civilizations. The amount of times my brother had left for that land was numerous, more than I can recall in numbers, and it just seemed a common routine when he left. He would be gone anywhere from hours, to days at a time, and he would always return with a story to tell.

There was one particular afternoon I remember more than all the others. My brother was home when I returned from tuition, and he looked as if he was plagued with a mixture of nervousness, excitement and dread. When I came into our dormitory, he said goodbye. He patted me on the back, and as he left, he paused just outside the door as if regretting his decision.

I haven't seen him since.

At first, just as though he was on any other long trip. But after the tenth day, I realized something was off. The longest absence before was only a week, and that in itself was a rarity. The fear and anxiety I felt as I worried was soon replaced by depression and desperate longing, and then anger.