–static, static–

Mother,

I left in the morning. There were no birds; there haven’t been any for a while now. I’m on the bus now, on the superhighway. It’s just cars, like an endless sea. It’s dull, and sad. I feel sad looking at it. I can see the Center in the distance. It looks sad, too. A big rectangle, standing knee deep in the muddy mess around it. It looks lonely. I feel lonely. I don’t know how I feel about the mission. The captain had spoken to me the day before. I do not like him that much. He has a huge beard, and he looks like a bear. I like the lieutenant more. He has a much kinder face. He is on the bus with me right now, but he is asleep. I may sleep soon too.

Goodbye until I write again, Mother

Jack 

–static, static–

Mother,

I am at the center now, waiting in line to test the space-suits. They said that we won’t need them, but that in the case of an emergency, this is the only way to survive. The captain and most of the crew are already on board, though we do not know where we are going yet. We’ve been told that either we are leaving the solar system to search for another planet, or that we are just going to Mars. I can believe either right now, the way that the world is. There were two more launches earlier today, though I heard neither. My turn is coming up soon. This is the last letter to you that I can write before we depart.

Goodbye until I write again, Mother

Jack

–static, static–

Mother,

We have been journeying through space for over a week now. Everything is going great. The steward has promoted me to the rank of Corporal whilst I’m on board the ship. Aren’t you proud of me, Mother?

The captain says we are leaving Earth for military reasons, to make a new base for reconnaissance purposes. I don’t believe him. I never have. The planet we are heading towards is called AB-XX. I wonder who came up with the name. It sounds dull. Why not name it something more like, oh I don’t know. Nevermind. The planet looks red, but it is not Mars. It is too far to be Mars. I don’t know what planet it is. But, wait. Yes I do. Planet AB-XX.

The captain has already called us down to explain what he called the “true” reason for the mission now. I was right. He was lying. He said that we are going to this planet because we can no longer survive on Earth, because Earth can no longer contain us. This is false.

Earth is dying, Mother. We have known that for centuries, and yet we persist. We have taken enough from our home; now there is no more left to take. And yet we continue. We continue to take what cannot be taken, and we continue to reduce our home to an empty shell, only we will eventually use that too, leaving nothing. Look at our home planet, Mother. See it in its pain. Dark billowing clouds cover it, smothering it. The sun shines but the light is blocked. We have covered our Earth in steel, in iron, in bronze, and in copper. We have locked it in its orbit, and we have suffocated it. The last of us are leaving, seeking out a better home. We have all vowed not to touch the new planet, though I doubt that; humans do not change. We have all seen it. 

The captain says that we’ll be arriving in a few days. We’ll see what happens. We can no longer see our Earth, or even our sun. It makes me feel lonely, Mother. Back down on Earth, what do you see? What do you see in the sky full of darkness? I wonder, for both of our sakes. James has already landed; they’re setting up the base for us. I hope that I’ll get to see him again. He’s in a much higher rank than me, a sergeant. A sergeant, Mother! Oh, James.

Anyway, the captain has asked me to head over to the engine room. He says that there is a leakage of some sort. I’m sorry, but I must go. I hope that for you, Mother, even the tiniest glimmer of the sun still shines through, though I’m not sure for how much longer. Nobody is sure; it’s unpredictable. The captain is calling me now, and I must go.

Goodbye until I write again, Mother.

Jack.

–static, static–

Mother,

We touched down a few days ago. The planet is rough and unfriendly. I do not like it. The domes are currently being built. Until then, we have to survive in the caves. I asked the captain why the domes weren’t finished. He said that there was a lack of money. I do not believe him. I have journeyed to the domes to look for myself. I was right, he had lied. The domes were unbuilt, and the other ship’s crew was gone. I wondered where they could have gone, and why. I went back and told the captain. 

He said to me that I was right, and that the other crew had left in search of a better planet, while we were stuck here. The next day, we journeyed to the domes. We found them mostly unbuilt but there was one that was almost fully built. A sandstorm started, and we hid inside of the dome. Inside, we found several buildings, inside of which were what looked to be beds, tables, and chairs, but all unused. It was a mystery. I was scared. For myself, and for James. The captain plans to spend some time here to finish the domes to live, for he says that we have found a new home. I do not believe him, for I know what we will do to the planet eventually. We have already experienced one birth among us. The first person born on this planet. I feel sorry for them, for the home that they will grow up in. He is back on the ship along with half of the crew. 

We are getting ready to fix the domes.

Goodbye until I write again, Mother

Jack

–static, static–

Mother,

Yesterday there was an earthquake. We lost several men, and now there is much grief. The captain has traveled back to the ship while the rest of us have stayed in the domes, which we finished building a few days ago. We are still living in the first one, but we do not have to wear the space-suits anymore. We still do not know where the other ship has gone, but the captain says not to worry about them. Yet deep inside, I worry still for James. The sky is red here on this planet, and the sun is small and dim. It is not a friendly sun, and I feel lonely. How are you, Mother? We can see a large part of the Milky Way from here, but I cannot find the Sun. It is sad. I see billions of tiny specks, but they are unfriendly. They do not twinkle. They do not wink, and they do not laugh. They are stone giants in space, burning their life away, ever watching. It’s dark up here, and we all carry around flashlights. There has been another sandstorm, even worse than last time. One of the domes has cracked, but we have lost nobody. I do not know how I feel about that. It’s cold up here, Mother. Colder than the coldest winter day that you have felt, but then again, what is winter back on earth? It is warm year round now. It chills my heart. Yesterday the main antenna broke, and so I am using the auxiliary one. I don’t know when I will get the chance to write again, but hopefully it is sometime soon, if they fix the main antenna. I do not know what else to say.

Goodbye until I write again, Mother,

Jack

–static, static–