From the Desk of Director Sarah Martinez, Entry 8
October 18, 2101
Bones cancelled the visit after I was already waiting for an hour.
The prison guards just told me I had to leave. So, I did.
I don’t really remember the drive back. I know there was music, but I can’t for the life of me tell you what it was. Oldies? That weird, new age prog rock Eric is into?
No clue. All I really feel when I think on the half hour drive back into Syracuse is… numb. I think there was a humming sound?
Don’t know.
I’m just thankful we got the streets cleaned up. I don’t think I could’ve navigated that old obstacle course in the state I was.
And now I’m here. Home early. The Wheel is empty again, the ARKs all deployed for all scheduled missions.
But the Ladder is still down and I can’t repopulate the Wheel for the next stage. If we didn’t have Erias, the whole goddamned thing would’ve already fallen apart.
One billion people relocated in 25 years. I should feel something about that. But… I think I’m numb there, too.
One billion is a lot, but there’s at least another two billion—two billion volunteers—to go before the numbers the UN Council gave me start making sense again.
Will that take another twenty-five years?
Will I see it?
I’ll be 72. That’s borderline life expectancy prior to the ARKs. All the new data is fucked because of migration and displacement, so who knows.
Who knows.
Sometimes I wish I was one of those Higher Power people. That I could smile and hand off my worries to some benevolent entity with the full belief they would take care of me.
But I’ve seen the Void. Traveled it. There is beauty, yes, but mostly there is horror and death and barren spaces.
If there is a god, she’s not out there. Not anymore. She came, believed, and then went back to where she came from, leaving us surprisingly alone in a galaxy ringing with life and death.
When I was a kid, I’d hide behind sci-fi and fantasy books so I didn’t have to see the reality. One of the things I really attached to was this idea of other intelligent life. The math just seemed to guarantee it… and while life is “common,” intelligent life, not so much, at least not to a human or dolphin scale. So far, it’s pretty much all lichens, moss, and weird plankton.
Some call that proof of the word of god, whatever that means. That we’re the only ones out here.
But they haven’t ridden the space between on an ARK. Haven’t heard that whistling wind for the briefest of moments before they reach a destination.
They haven’t heard the whispers.
And by their god, I hope they never will.
Clearly, I need a nap. This has gotten darker than I intended and I don’t feel any better about anything.
Bye.
— Sayre
