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Thanqol
Charley
Velos
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Mole
McNephelim
Sky Blue
MurderVictim
Snowdrops>>>Waltzespitze Bunker
Beep-Beep-Beep. Slamming off the alarm, Derek got up. His day was boring to say the least. Like almost any young person without special talents in The Continuation, his day consisted of fiddling with numbers in different ways. Making projections or analyizing simulations, he contributed the tiniest of fractions of the government’s plan to flee earth for Mars. Often, in ways that were completely unrelated. This week he was assigned the task of helping to figure out the most efficient flight path for the drone that would be sent out to collect debris from the atmosphere. Last week, it was figuring out which foodstuffs would maximize the matrice of space efficiency, nutrition efficiency, and of course polled-taste for colonizing new worlds. As a momentary lapse of judgement he had worked to help get quinoa selected over other grains that had a higher value in the models made. If anyone found out and reported this, he knew the administrative penalty would keep him a menial number cruncher until he died in shame and ignominy. But it felt like such a naughty little rebellion to know that the first Martians would be munching on his favoured grain in part because of his input. Unless of course, there was another study that was made on this exact same topic later. Almost every year there was some sort of review of what was done prior, some effort of incremental improvement even if most of the time absolutely nothing changed. He just hoped these little audits - if they chose to countermand his work - did not deem it to be intentional sabotage.
Evening was here, and he had his mandatory fitness regimen. That was at least some form of respite, Derek getting some brief amount of chatting with his friends as he achieved the performance goals assigned to him in the gym. Then dinner with his family. They discussed quite inane things they’d spoken of almost verbatim before, figures they had done at work or the latest incremental improvements in the rations. Increments. That was something that seemed to colour the life of everyone in The Continuation regardless of where in it people were. Everything really was getting better, even if ever so slightly. But that meant it was almost the exact same as yesterday. Which wasn’t bad if yesterday was good, right? Still, it got samey.
He raised an eyebrow though as his father spoke of latest data from the outside world. New cities being founded or restored, of migratory peoples moving, and more. It was the most interesting part of his father’s profession as a figure in the Continuation’s Security Apparatus. Briefly he contemplated asking for his father’s security pass, but he knew the man would call him a fool again even if he pleaded with his upcoming birthday. Just a single day on the outside, just a single view of real sunshine, a dream.
The evening came to an end, and Derek looked upon his tablet’s images and videos of the outside wistfully. It was a ritual of sorts, one he continued most days before he went to sleep. Looking at the time it was late, and he got ready for bed. He gathered his garbage and went to the compactor. He was just about to throw away the wrappers for candies before he saw a glint of something plastic at the mouth of the compactor. It… it was his father’s keycard. Gingerly he pulled it out. The piece would expire next week, hence why it was thrown out. A cold sweat overtook the young man. He ought throw it away, he knew.
But he couldn’t. Every time his hand extended to do so, it withdrew right away. No, this was his way outside. This was an artifact, a treasure. Within the week, he would see the true sun.
Beep-Beep-Beep. Slamming off the alarm, Derek got up. His day was boring to say the least. Like almost any young person without special talents in The Continuation, his day consisted of fiddling with numbers in different ways. Making projections or analyizing simulations, he contributed the tiniest of fractions of the government’s plan to flee earth for Mars. Often, in ways that were completely unrelated. This week he was assigned the task of helping to figure out the most efficient flight path for the drone that would be sent out to collect debris from the atmosphere. Last week, it was figuring out which foodstuffs would maximize the matrice of space efficiency, nutrition efficiency, and of course polled-taste for colonizing new worlds. As a momentary lapse of judgement he had worked to help get quinoa selected over other grains that had a higher value in the models made. If anyone found out and reported this, he knew the administrative penalty would keep him a menial number cruncher until he died in shame and ignominy. But it felt like such a naughty little rebellion to know that the first Martians would be munching on his favoured grain in part because of his input. Unless of course, there was another study that was made on this exact same topic later. Almost every year there was some sort of review of what was done prior, some effort of incremental improvement even if most of the time absolutely nothing changed. He just hoped these little audits - if they chose to countermand his work - did not deem it to be intentional sabotage.
Evening was here, and he had his mandatory fitness regimen. That was at least some form of respite, Derek getting some brief amount of chatting with his friends as he achieved the performance goals assigned to him in the gym. Then dinner with his family. They discussed quite inane things they’d spoken of almost verbatim before, figures they had done at work or the latest incremental improvements in the rations. Increments. That was something that seemed to colour the life of everyone in The Continuation regardless of where in it people were. Everything really was getting better, even if ever so slightly. But that meant it was almost the exact same as yesterday. Which wasn’t bad if yesterday was good, right? Still, it got samey.
He raised an eyebrow though as his father spoke of latest data from the outside world. New cities being founded or restored, of migratory peoples moving, and more. It was the most interesting part of his father’s profession as a figure in the Continuation’s Security Apparatus. Briefly he contemplated asking for his father’s security pass, but he knew the man would call him a fool again even if he pleaded with his upcoming birthday. Just a single day on the outside, just a single view of real sunshine, a dream.
The evening came to an end, and Derek looked upon his tablet’s images and videos of the outside wistfully. It was a ritual of sorts, one he continued most days before he went to sleep. Looking at the time it was late, and he got ready for bed. He gathered his garbage and went to the compactor. He was just about to throw away the wrappers for candies before he saw a glint of something plastic at the mouth of the compactor. It… it was his father’s keycard. Gingerly he pulled it out. The piece would expire next week, hence why it was thrown out. A cold sweat overtook the young man. He ought throw it away, he knew.
But he couldn’t. Every time his hand extended to do so, it withdrew right away. No, this was his way outside. This was an artifact, a treasure. Within the week, he would see the true sun.
