Dear Earth,
I'm not even on the ship yet, but I'm already searching for escape. Just the thought of being stuck between those metal walls for the rest of my life- it's more than I can take. Of course, they claim it's either this life or no life at all, so I guess I should be glad I was granted a place on the ship that will be my container, but sometimes I look up at the sun in the sky and I know, in the center of my heart, that I'd rather die by its hand than never see the stars again.
But it isn't really my choice any more, is it? I just do what they tell me, including condemning myself to a life within the walls of Escape.
They call it Escape because that is what it is. It is our escape. It is our last chance to flee from the sun before its flames engulf the Earth.
We are the last ones left. Everyone else; they left a while ago, in hopes of another world. One that wasn't quite so destroyed, by pollution and energy consumption and everything else... basically, they were the people who wanted to start over. But we were the people who wanted to stay.
We won't get to, of course. The mere one billion people who have been hanging onto what we have called home for millions of years are all to be herded into the ship tomorrow. Escape. It's not an escape, it's just boarding us up in another nightmare. One we won't wake up from. We won't even get to die.
You claim to make all your own choices, but in the end, it isn't you. It's the government, making them for you. And I hate it.
So, Earth, I guess this is goodbye... And I have to promise you something, Earth- no matter what happens, no matter what happens to me, or to you, I'll never forget what it's like to have the green, green grass under my feet and the wind in my hair. I'll never forget the colors in the sky at sunset or the way your moon sends a single sliver of light through the trees and into my window every night, like its wishing me, and only me, sweet dreams, along with the promise of tomorrow.
And also, I'll never forget what it's like to have to say goodbye to you, standing here, my feet leaving footprints in the soft, soft sand and your ocean tickling my toes.
I'll miss you. I really will. And if it were up to me, I'd never leave. But it's not.
Farewell,
Dear Earth, my Friend,
Lucille Baker
YOU ARE READING
The Box
Science Fiction. Stella Winterson is a girl with a future. She's an eighteen-year-old prodigy in a world where smarts are everything, destined to rule the city in which she lives. From looking at her, you'd think she has it all. But You'd be wrong. Gwendolyn Afri...
