I reached for my kitten Cleo instead of my phone. Social media wasn’t a happy place right now, not with everything going on.
Balancing Cleo on my shoulder, I shuffled to the kitchen. There by the door lay a carefully folded piece of paper. Probably my Star-Trek-enthusiast neighbors.
Aedus hated it when his hourglass talked. The majority of its speech was apocalyptic prophecy, and he would have given anything for it to be wrong. Just once.
Preferably now.
Stones cut through the soles of Aedus’ shoes as he sprinted down the hill, dragging a stretcher behind him.
The walls crumble more every day. It’s not just something you can fix with workers and stone, either. If it were that easy, we would’ve saved the city long ago.
But these magic-imbued walls are held together by our relationships—by love—and that love is fading.
Haruo Settlement of the Last Survivors of Japan, 2094
Translated from Japanese
It was only a matter of time. I am fortunate I have been spared from it this long.
But it is necessary.
No one believed me when I said the moon disappeared. They said it went behind a cloud. That it would be back. It always came back.
“Not this time.” But insisting didn’t work.
Evelyn Hall had long been numb to the weight of a planet on her shoulders. The everyday stresses that accompanied ruling the nations of the world had destroyed her health and strained her mind past its limits. But now that its end drew near, the decision to stop fighting the inevitable felt less like a burden and more like a release.
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“We’ve been here five standard weeks, and I’ve made no headway with the Kalari. They’ve accepted our presence, though I still cringe over my first bumbling attempts communicating with them through thoughts. My introduction was the equivalent of me nice, star bad.”
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I was surrounded. There, atop the ruins of what was once a great symbol of power, I lifted my hands in surrender.
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