Red - my world, universe was red. The color of fire pushing back the night. The color of a comrade’s blood dribbling from the lips of the man starving alone, sitting in orbit in the planet’s lone space station, his cries for help falling on dead ears. Red from the planet’s surface reflected against our faceplates as we watched it’s rotation grind to a stop momentarily before continuing and then permanently lie still. It was almost imperceptible, but still we saw – and knew what it meant. On the surface, billions were dying from fissures that opened up beneath their feet, swallowing them whole. Tides sweeping upon shorelines destroying homes, wild life and anything it’s watery hands could reach.
We stood in silence on the deck, hands hanging down to our sides; the only sound that of our breath. Unable to do anything, we bore witness to the death of an entire planet and the life she once carried upon her.
When we eventually fall from accident, duty, or old age…would anyone remember them? These once great people whose politicians doomed them by vying for power that did not really exist, except only in their eyes.
I would find some way to make sure no one ever forgot their mistakes.
