Ideas come and go – their remains, however, rest assured somewhere in the world. Whether that is the written parchment, a recorded voice, or even a song or a movie – they somehow transcend from the past and continue to live on. They are not created to be mocked; they are not presented to be hated or made fun of – they're there as we are – temporary monument to that which we believe is truth. Regardless of its origins, the idea is a manifest of everything – or so have I believed.
ENTRY #336 – YEAR 2239 – John Winterday – Solastium Appo – 4th Ring
We've just landed on the far planet of the Appo Solar System – around three hundred people in two ships had stepped onto the hot sand in the hope of a better life. My family is not any different; my father, forty three years old engineer, my mother, forty two years old doctor and my big brother, twenty three years old … nothing. The first thing I noticed when I left the ship was that the planet is far different than our homeland, Earth. The sky was blazing red and, at the horizon, the clouds were so dark that there was no telling what's going on there. The sand beneath us was hot, even in our newly acquired boots that were bought strictly for this planet. As I understood from what the big, mustache guy was telling us, the planet was divided into Nineteen Sectors from which eleven were "unsuitable for living". What they meant by that is that those were the places where the storm shreds anything that comes near it. We were placed in the Fifth Sector; it was a middle-class oriented Sector that was built on the remains of the Volcano – yes … humans are idiots indeed. However, in spite of that, the settlement was quite nice; it is obvious that they were, somehow, "recreating" our homeland, in shape of fashion of course, because all of the buildings resembled those back on the Earth. They were all straight up, built out of the steel and glass and were divided by the floors. I don't know much about this planet … no one told us anything more than "It's a suitable replacement for our Homeland – rest assured that you will find a new life there." – to me it sounds like an overly-boosted utopia … and I'm just waiting until all the lies fall apart.
I share my room with the big brother; we each have our own bed and we are happy. We have a nice view over the rising mountains towards the East. East always reminds of the sun rising back home … yes … I could never forget our home.
Eight years ago, back when I was nine, is when everything began falling apart. We dried most of our natural resources and the people began departing on the distant planets. My family is no different; since both of my parents were stable and well-known in the community, we got cheap passes and were sent off on an eight year long journey across the space. Most of that time, my mom and dad would educate me while the big brother was hired as an engineer on the ship. Those were the dull years; I can safely assume that it's the worst way for a child to grow up. Well … I can say that from my experience solely, but I really can't think of any other way. Although, I remember that, back home, our history teacher would tell us about how the children were raised solely for war back in the 2050. I still think it's a sheer fairy tale, but everything is possible.
Just as back home, our life is pre-determined even here – waking up at 6 A.M., then breakfast at 7 A.M., free time until 10 A.M. where children go to the school and adults to the work, back home at 8 P.M., dinner, free time and sleep. I don't even know why are they trying; it is obvious that we are not everlasting race … we're just prolonging the inevitable, which is bad because our end will be even worse than it would be now. Still … I'm looking forward to the life here … it's just a little bit, though, but it counts. Sleep is always nice after the exhausting journey across the space over the course of eight years … it indeed is …