Sleeping

Chapter Fifteen

I put my hands on the clear glass-like window and stared down at the planet. We were in orbit going in the opposite direction that the planet was spinning, so I could see the whole planet in the matter of a few minutes. Earth looked much, much different than what was in my science textbook way back in the past. Instead of green lands with spots of yellow, brown and orange, vast blue oceans, and white caps on both poles, this new Earth was rather...brown.

The ice on the poles was completely non-existent, with just ocean where the North Pole is and land where I was used to seeing the snow and ice of Antarctica. I was sure it was still cold there, though. The oceans were no longer a shade of the blue I was used to—it was more of a brownish teal. Going across the center of my planet was a wide strip of reddish-orange, the red fading to yellow and then green as the land reached the poles. I could see southern Nevada where our camp and Trier (aka Area 51 as I later found out) was. All that was there was a desolate orange wasteland.

There was much less land, period. All the continents were just…thinner. Florida and the coast of Mexico were all but gone, and Italy was more of a long-ish stump than its signature boot. The thin bridge of Central America was non-existent, and Hawaii wasn’t even one island anymore. Much of Russia wasn’t there anymore. The long tip of Alaska had disappeared along with much of the edges of North America—including California, the place where I had grown up.

It was hard not for me to break down. Los Angeles was my home. And it was all gone—me and my mom’s apartment downtown, the Hollywood sign I looked at every day, my Aunt Tanya’s place in Beverly Hills where I used to stay when my mom was away on a set, May’s house (or my second house, as we liked to call it). The beautiful beach that I loved so much had been washed away into the ocean.

At first, the view of Earth had looked beautiful—now all I could see was the ugly. It was hideous. Earth wasn’t supposed to look like that—Earth was supposed to be beautiful, with lush green forests and snow in the winter. Not this…wasteland I was looking at. I hate it. I felt so…guilty. As if I could’ve done anything to stop this.

“Is something wrong, Ly’co?” Iz asked and put one pale, chubby-ish hand on my shoulder, concern in her voice.

“It’s just…that’s my home down there. It’s completely destroyed. I know this isn’t where you’re from, but it’s where I was born and raised.”

She was silent for a moment but finally said, “I haven’t been to Isar in just over a century, but I still miss it.” She smiled. “Snow and ice covered the whole planet. It would be intolerable for anything from your planet, but we barely felt it. To me, it was beautiful—especially in the vi, which would be your winter, when all the lands were bathed in white.”

“That’s why Isarians look like that—to blend in.” I said.

“That’s why we look like this. You may have lived among humans all your life, but cold and ice runs through your veins, just like me, just like my father.”

“But I’m only half-Isarian.” I interjected. I’m not sure why, but I always felt the need to disassociate myself with the alien side of me. It’s always felt like going home to discover the place you grew up is filled with a new family living there, and has been there for years.

“Yet you are still only half-human.”

~~~~~**~~~~~

The next day, I woke up in my all white room that had a little rectangle window seat for a bed carved out. The sheets and comforter were light blue, along with the walls. When I first tried to stand, I felt immediately dizzy, most likely because my body wasn’t used to the odd gravity. There had been a bowl of, I kid you not, FruityPebbles with milk sitting in a mini version of what looked like one of those things that I had been brought up to the ship on.It tasted, well, not exactly how I remember it, but it was also probably some kind of recreation made out of who-knows-what

I was more than grateful for that little touch of home. As much as I’m growing used to this new world, I’m not sure it’ll ever be where I belong, not truly—but don’t get me wrong: I really do like it here. Despite me getting homesick fairly often, if someone offered me a way back to the past, well, I would certainly hesitate. I might do something that would somehow damage this future or my friends. This is a good future—even though there are a few things that aren’t perfect— and it could’ve definitely turned out much, much worse. I’m not sure I want to risk possibly ruining it.

And I honestly do—as much as I hate to admit it—enjoy it here. I’m not glad I was taken or anything like that, but I’m not sure I hate Viola anymore. Or May. Whatever I should really call her. I thought for a moment before deciding—Viola. I couldn’t associate my insane best friend with her. May really had been something special. She was certainly the only girl I knew that could shoot a three-pointer wearing heels and a dress, and when she wasn’t skateboarding, playing video games, or doing anything having to do with sports, she was doing her makeup or watching sappy romance movies. She was, as my friends and I always put it, a ‘girly tomboy’. I miss her.

~~~~~**~~~~~

So I’d eaten that cereal and put on a pair of dark-wash jeans (they’re ‘in’ right now) and a sweater with some combat boots that were in my closet. (Again, the planet Isar was made out of ice, so it’s pretty cold on the ship.) All of the clothes somehow matched my style fairly well without having me look like a weirdo. (Fashion changes a lot in 350 or so years, so what I wore back home is now terribly outdated.)

Just as I was wondering what exactly I should do next, I heard an androgynous voice talk out of seemingly nowhere and freaked me out for a second, even though I had familiarized myself with the technology during my stay at Trier. The voice said, “Someone is at your door. Shall I open it?”

“Open,” I responded.

The door slid open and the person walked through. Anger, happiness, and something else washed through me when I saw who it was.

It was Nathaniel—my father.