Aurora

Perhaps I'm silly for the feelings I'm feeling right now. Perhaps I'm an idiot and an ignorant fool, but I don't care much. Those on the colony back on Hidai called me such names when I told them what I wanted to do. In fact, I remember Captain Logan telling me specifically that if I went through with the plan arisen from my mad prattling, he'd see to it that in the eventual afterlife he'd give me his famous right hook to the jaw. Humans are such funny creatures. I remember landing on Hidai after the space boom and feeling such a feeling that moved my heart in such a way that it changed my very physiology. I looked out at the vast, green forests, the deep blue oceans, and oh my, the incredibly blue sky. All 24 of us had landed there and it was much like Earth except there was one glaring difference: humans hadn't been there. 

The air was a crisp wave of oxygen that filled our lungs like a cup of lemonade on a hot day. I miss lemonade. Touching the soil was like holding a newborn baby. The planet was so fresh, so healthy. I cried for an hour. The planet buzzed and I could feel that it was alive and speaking to us. I felt so harmonious, and living had become so effortless. The lower gravity allowed me to soar a bit higher than that on Earth. I remember jumping into the first pool we dug. I cried again, that time for 4 hours. The animals there greeted us warmly. I remember when I set up my house, an animal called, "Simian Novus," as in, "New Monkey," crawled into my home. It cautiously approached me, climbing on the table I had just put my lunch on. It stuck it's hand out, and I promptly held it. I felt the grooves on his hands, the velvety fur all over his body. I looked into his green eyes and without moving any vocal apparatus, he spoke to me. He spoke to me as if he and I were one. I cried again. 

We had stumbled upon Heaven, and with our technology, we've preserved the planet for at least 1,000 years so far. The planet thrives as if we had just found it. We successfully survived an experiment to show the capabilities of being entirely self-sufficient and non-harming to the ecosystem of which we lived. We populated Hidai so much, the population is at least in the 40 billions at the present, and the planet still breathes as if it were the very newborn we cradled that fateful day. I lived there for the full thousand years of our occupancy and recently something has come over me. It's been an itch in the back of my brain, my heart, and the very depths of my consciousness. It all started when I found a picture of my family on Earth that was nestled away in a tiny compartment of my Earthly luggage. I had forgotten completely about it, if I'm being frank. I mostly stored such things away so as not to feel nostalgic. 

I had a wife and a daughter who I upset in my last years on Earth. My wife was radiant; I miss June so much. When she smiled I could feel the Sun glisten through each of her cells. She breathed and lived as if each moment she spent with me would be her last. She was never one to follow an established way of thinking, in fact, she and I once skinny-dipped. I had been walking her home and we fantasized about being able to afford a pool as big as the one on 48th. The home was lavishly big and if I'm frank again, terribly selfish. It spanned acres of land and the owners, the Richfords, inherited it after their grandparents passed. They cared little of Earthly things, as in, the trees, the bugs, the ants marching to please their family. 

I remember arriving at her door as we spoke of the pool. I had jokingly said I wished we could swim in it together, at the least just once. I then said I'd buy her a house that big one day so we could skinny-dip whenever we pleased. She smiled and said, "Why wait?" I had done a double take, as if I were becoming aware of the woman standing in front of me again. "What?" I asked. "Let's go do it now, you know they're never there." "But the cameras," I said, whispering as if they could hear us miles away. She closed her door and stepped outside again. "Who cares if they see us?" "It's trespassing, June!" She grabbed my hand, pulling me down the walkway towards the street. "Don't be such a baby!" She stuck her hand out to a passing car and we both hitchhiked to the home. She was so fearless, I was harmless; she wavered none even in the face of hitchhiking at such an hour. We arrived quickly and I tried to reason with her before we continued on with our charades.

"Listen, you jump over first, and then you can pull me up by sitting on that pillar." I knew I couldn't win; in truth I didn't want to. I climbed up with ease. I was so healthy then, even in my state of perpetual morality and meek manner, I thrived. I pulled her up and over, and we immediately ran to the pool. The cameras weren't flickering as they usually did. "See, they're off," she said. She then removed her clothes without saying a word, and yanked me into the pool with her. I removed mine and we giggled as if we were doing something cosmically great. We nearly froze to death, but we floated for an hour or so. We stared at the stars and I promised her I'd get her to a planet one day. She laughed in my face. 

Shortly after, we had a child named July. It was a funny joke between us because we said we'd keep naming our children after months until we reached June. We had a terribly happy life. We were never the rich sort, even towards the end, but we all were happy. In time, word had gotten out that the government was sending a lucky 24 people to space to inhabit a new planet. This was some years into our relationship if I recall. We both had reached the ripe ages of 45 and 42. I was older and constantly teased her about that small, 3 year age gap. She would always tease back and say I robbed the cradle. We were wed 20 years, and our child grew into an amazing woman. I never intended to reach the stars, let alone forge ahead to a new planet. 

One day I felt something missing between us, and June felt it too. After much discussion we went our separate ways. There was no petty arguing, or splitting assets, but July spiraled. I suppose she thought we'd all live that way forever, and to be fair, I did too. June met another, and we never really spoke again; she blamed me for July's new afflictions after July told her about her disdain for me. It was uncharacteristic of June to blame me, but I felt something change in June as we aged. She lost that spark which fueled her as she feared of being trapped in her life. She didn't have money, she didn't know herself enough, etc. I can understand the problem with not understanding oneself, so I called it quits. I entered a fair bit of depression myself. With the calls to space I thought I'd volunteer. I tried to talk it over with June and July but they never thought I'd do it, so they ignored me. 

Soon after submitting my application, the government accepted. I hadn't any family members on my side, I was meek, and after recently being divorced, I'm sure they figured I was a perfect candidate. I was the most "normal," out of the 24 sent up to Hidai. I mean that in the sense that I'm no different than any human man. The others, however, all went through many trials and tribulations. We were paired man and woman, 12 pairs, and out of all of us, 11 had health issues. My dear friend Bernard had weak bones, the woman paired with me had been diagnosed with cancer, David was a criminal, etc.

I left Earth aptly after the acceptance of my application. I couldn't face them, but now when I look back, I wish I did. I wish I would've done so many things. I often wonder if they thought about me. I often wonder if June or July stared at the stars and wondered if I was okay. I wonder if they saw the stars and had any regrets.

"Approaching light speed for the second warp," the voice in my ship says. I gather my thoughts and allow the ship to fly on autopilot. I reach the cylindrical chamber and enter it. I begin to input the time I'd like to remain asleep and preserved for, but my hand trembles. Another devious thought enters my brain. What if I allowed myself to age? It's what, 40 years until Earth? That would leave me at 85, body wise, 85 is manageable. After living for so long, I now wonder if I appreciated the moments on Hidai. When we arrived and when we were sent into space, we were injected with a liquid which allowed our cells to constantly regenerate. I suppose after taking the liquid every year in Hidai, Heaven began to fade away. I don't mind preserving the planet, or leaving the animals untouched; I was grateful for such things. But truth be told, we never suffered there. Any conflict was avoided because we kept peace. The generations after only knew peace, so they kept it up. No broken bones, no anxiety, no disagreeing; technology had become synonymous with us. Technology worked for us.

Perhaps I'm foolish, but I wish to feel what I felt with June, when we stargazed or when we cooked in the kitchen listening to RnB. Or, I wish to feel her anger after an argument, I wish to feel the ails of a disagreement. I'm happy we as a race solved aging, diseases and such, but part of me misses being in those uncertain moments. You cared for those instances because they were the last ones and the only ones you existed in. I step out of the chamber and sit in the soft bed next to it. Will I spend 40 years this way? Aging for once, and feeling the impermanence of the cosmos? I fly by the nebulae, the solar systems, galaxies even, and I stare at their futility. A beauty rests over me as I understand now. But, I cannot age too much, as I only wish to gaze upon Earth. I must see if it's the same as I left it.

I must see if they struggle, and therefore grow. I'm the same person I was when I left, and I suppose I wonder if the Earth is the same as well.

40 YEARS LATER

"Wake up, Mr. Davenport, and behold, Earth." I struggle a bit arising from my bed. My heart begins to palpitate and I feel young again. I'm excited again, good God it runs through my veins! It fuels me, it lifts me, it makes me want to jump with glee! I reach the cockpit and immediately am seated with humility; I made it. I made it, it's there, it's Earth! It's as I left it, but a new beauty courses through it. The trash and such are removed now from its orbit. The Sun and the very water thanks them; I can feel it. What a sight. I only stare and tremble with tears I haven't felt in ages; tears of being humbled by the vastness of space. Earth is so small, and I'm so foolish for doing what I've done. I can surmise that at the very least; that I'm an idiot. But I just wanted to see it again and breathe it's oxygen. I nearly want to call June to tell her, but again I am humbled. There's a beauty in my discovery. Wow, Earth, you're so blue! It's soft glow from the Sun warms my eyes. I'm home again. 

"Ark Base 10 to the ancient ship floating near our orbit, are you here to land?" Oddly the voice through the speakers sounds human for once. On Hidai we weren't human anymore; we were Gods. But no longer do I tread with Gods, I'm home. I wet my dry lips and sit in the chair which guided me through a variety of cosmic entities. I tremble and keep wetting my lips. I stutter out, "Yes I'd like to land." "Ark Base 10 to mystery ship, are you human?" "Yes, sir." "Ship name?" "Aurora." A silent static crackles as they lose their words. "Intentions?" "Just to see Earth again." They allow me to land using a technology which will land me at Earthly coordinates. Truth be told I always knew I'd come back but I was too ignorant to accept it. I even built an entire ship and went along with my static life without even doing so in a cognizant manner. I enter the atmosphere and a well of flames tickle the Aurora. I feel the heat from the flames and I know I've made it. You can only experience such an atmosphere, here, on the gorgeous Earth. It's nearly as if the Earth knows what it's protecting. It's protecting a garden of flowers which reach to the sky, it's protecting sea turtles wishing to reach the ocean. I begin to cry again. 

I land and am astonished at the technological improvements. I feel my pulse in my throat, 120. I'm nervous! What a revelation….

The sky's are lined with towers of shiny metals, the streets cleaned with technology nearly superior to that of Hidai. A crew of stoutly men reach the door to the outside world. They knock a few times and wave through the glass at the front of the ship. I hesitate. Am I ready to view the Earth in its glory again?! I press the button to open the door and I'm hit with the same oxygen I felt on Hidai. It's so crisp, but this time, I know it's Earth's. It's as if walking into two different grocery stores. June and I always loved a certain store because it smelled the same no matter the amount of renovations, or no matter how many times a new location opened. We often went to other stores which exhibited the same notion; it held its own smell. Hidai has its own, sure, but this smell is one I'd never forget. It smells so small, but so large at the same time. "Sir, sir!" "He's old," a man whispers. "Indeed I am," I chuckle. They help me out of the ship and I walk amongst them across the airport. "My God, what planet are you from?" "Hidai," I mumble. They collectively gasp. "Why, I learned about that planet in my history books!" I laugh again. School doesn't exist on Hidai.

We reach the inside of a bustling station and I wait inside a waiting room. With my identity and all, it's been so long that I must have a new one. New. New at last. I know I'm a fool, but I can't wait to grow. I can't wait to be new and not expect everything that happens. I can't wait to forge something new, on this petty little rock, on this petty little rock….