Good Morning Antemyst

I. The Best Parts Of Earth

Ever know too much?

It's the sort of thing that happens when you're the leader of a country, or a movement. Or both. You learn things. You see things. There's no choice in it. Blink once and you might not see the axe swinging toward your people.

Fortunately, I saw the axe. I noticed the arc of its swing decades ago. It looked so familiar. So I prepared for it.

It's the same phenomenon that drew our kind - Gifteds to the popular consciousness - to gather centuries ago, during the exorcisms, and Inquisitions, and witch hunts. They gathered around Ashley Fosterman, who built them their own country, and put up a big sign to the rest of the world saying "just leave us alone." Ashley Fosterman is my mother. I'm Crystalline. Three hundred years later, I'm the leader of that country, Antemyst.

We developed on our own, apart from and faster than the original human race. With our increased intelligence, we designed cures for many things; with our advanced strength, we built wonders; with our foresight, we protected ourselves. Everyone thought I was mad when I ordered Cyrna to be explored and settled in the 1970s, by which time we had perfected fast-as-light travel, but today it's considered one of my best moves as leader. Hindsight does wonders.

The rest of the world rediscovered us when we started blasting unmanned probes into deep space. They were still trying to put a dog in orbit. That was all right. The trouble only began recently. Malak's assassination called for a response. I guess the world wanted me to declare war on them or something. Instead, we just left.

We would have anyway. Malak had predicted that the planet Earth would suffer a man-made catastrophe almost exactly two years hence - an energy initiative being undertaken by a group of countries known to some as the Green Thumb, which was actually a nuclear arms program meant to eradicate a nuclear-armed enemy. It would be the wrong choice and the results would devastate everything at a genetic level; plants, livestock, people. Infrastructure would fail and economies would flatline. That was what Malak saw, and he warned everyone. But he knew too much, and he was killed for it.

I also knew too much, but even Malak's multigovernment-sponsored murderers found it difficult to kill a head of state who can self-replicate. Much less one who leads a country of advanced humans, who have among them the power to bring down entire ecosystems. We don't want that. No one does. But we as a culture have been ostracized enough that you really shouldn't push that button.

Malak's murder happened two years ago. Since then, we had been preparing. Takeoff had been five days ago; we were traveling at speed, having not kicked into fast-as just yet. I had instituted a policy of not speeding through certain areas, and Ceres' asteroid belt was one of them. Once we cleared it, we would blast out of Sol.

The comms in my cabin switched on, seeping quiet classical music - "Venus" from Holst's The Planets - and my mother said, "Good morning, darling. It's time."

"Yes, Mom." It would have been five AM in Antemyst. Noon in New York. According to predictions, it would happen soon. I had been trying not to watch the time. Malak had not been alone; every precognitive advanced enough had eventually seen it happen, with only slight alterations. I was not a precog, but I knew enough about time and futures to believe them, especially when they were all saying the same thing.

"Are you ready?" she asked gently. "They'll need you now more than ever."

The five starcraft that had departed from Antemyst five days before contained the last of our population. Antemyst was a small atoll, and as our population had outgrown it my parents had led the move to Cyrna. So, fortunately, we had only needed the five starcraft. Each held fifty passengers comfortably, not including the crew. I was on the flagship, Qumenee.

I was already dressed, in a black pantsuit and a sunrise-colored tie. The flag of Antemyst is a black sunrise over water. "I'm ready."

"Good luck." She paused, possibly to smile. "We're proud of you, Crys. You have done so well. You'll manage this too."

I nodded, more for myself, since she couldn't see me. "Thanks, Mom. I'll call you after."

"All the best. Be strong."

I closed the comms and took a breath, then ventured out to Control. These starcraft had been meticulously designed to be as Earth-like as possible, for those passengers who had never ventured into space before. This would be a long voyage for them.

"Leader on the bridge!" My heels clicked across the platform as I crossed toward the cockpit. As the leader of Antemyst, I was technically the ranking official on board, but my navigational experience was limited to solo crafts. I knew very little about piloting anything so large as Qumenee and her sisters. So Captain Clarak was in charge of that. He and the fifteen-person crew stood and saluted me out of habit. I hated that sort of thing.

"At ease," I said with a small smile. "Good morning, Qumenee."

"Good morning, Leader," they answered in various ways, all doing their best to mimic my good cheer. I have the advantage of being adorable: five feet tall in short heels, an abundance of curly brown hair, an easy smile that I could call upon anytime.

"Anything to report?" I asked Clarak and his crew.

"Nothing at all, we're happy to say." But he was looking at me a bit nervously. I glanced at the nearest clock. It read 1203. New York time.

"From this point forward, you're not to broadcast any live footage of Earth," I said. "At seven past, I will deliver a short message throughout the convoy. Please make arrangements now."

"Of course, Leader." Clarak nodded to the comms operator, who returned the gesture.

I asked quietly, "Do you want to see it?"

Slowly, gradually, most of the crew nodded.

"Those who don't are excused for a ten-minute break. Cruise for now, please, Captain," I added. "We won't lose too much time."

A few crew members left. Qumenee reached a cruise, and the other four craft followed suit as my orders were relayed. "Bring up a local video from Satellite Two over Earth," I said, and shortly a live image of Earth appeared only on the dash monitor. It was wide enough for everyone in the cockpit to see.

We knew what would happen. An error - one hoped - in the code would cause a disruption in the New York site, which would then echo out to the other thirteen sites spread out across the globe. The nuclear loadout at these sites was such that their explosions would turn most of the Earth into wasteland; and those places that happened to be far away from them would be completely isolated, to die out within months. The genetic effects were less predictable, but the precogs had seen deformities, death, worse. Antemyst itself would soon be blanketed by a radioactive cloud coming off Japan.

Such was the end of our world.