Just an Idea pasing through . . .

Okay, it's about eleven at night on a Wednsday, I haven't had a good night's sleep in weeks, and I just got a decent idea. Tell me if you like it or not; I might tweak the idea a little more in the future.

I had to look back one last time. This would be the last time I ever saw my hometown again. Riversville, the last toxin-free place on the planet. After the big Robotocorp pollution scandal of 2012, people started flocking here like George W. Bush to a war, the main reason why he was our most recently assassinated president. Ever since then, Riversville became sort of a haven for many, but never changed for the naitives.

So, I turned around, expecting to finally see all of the horrible things the Global Sciences Council had been cramming down our throats; instead, all I saw were the same lush hills, sprawling farms, and, just on the horizon, the Amber Comb, the best eatery in town. None of us believed a word of any of it, there was no reason to. We hadn't had any traces of poison in our water, our air was the cleanest you could find; sure, old Michael Boyd had died of some weird disease, but that happened a lot since the influenza bug had evolved enough to attack the central nervous system.

I wanted to stay. Everyone did. But people showed us what they did to those who refused the Migration, and it wasn't pretty. Those that wanted to stay went, but they went broken men, to be used for labor on Haven.

I grabbed everything I owned now, which wasn't much compared to some others, and boarded the sleek new Stargazer III. The R-26 Robomodel posted at the entrance walkway informed us that the name of this ship was the Icarus. No one really paid attention, but something about the name caught my ear. Icarus, Icarus . . . something about the sun? Oh well, it wasn't important. I'm only a singer, after all.

My cabin was on the left side of the second corridor. I reached it and threw all of my possessions into the Vacuupartment. Every traceable element was then removed from the closet-sized space, creating a perfect vacuum that would last us until touchdown on the surface. I wasn't so sure; Cronus-XI was a long way away.

A voice came over the intercom telling us to please enter our pods now. I climbed in, bracing myself for the still risky DeepSleep drug to completely freeze every cell in my body for twenty-five years. The Plexiglas casing slid over me; sixty seconds until bedtime. I did the only thing I could do: pray. I prayed that I would see my family, that I would wake up alive. A green light came on: ten seconds. I said my last words, and finished them just as the purple gas poured into my chamber.

"Here in the Brave New World's Embrace, I watch the parade begin . . ."
***

There you are. Nothing to write home about, but at least acceptable. Tell me what you think of it, and I'll see what can be done. Thank you, and good night.

Morituri Nolumus Mori,
Barron