Migrants 2: I Hate Sand (bp coyle)

Utopia Novi. that’s what someone named this planet. Someone with a sick sense of humour. New Utopia indeed, a world of sand, nothing but sand. My older brother often calls it Novum Infernum: New Hell.

We seldom leave the family biodome, it’s not safe to do so. The temperature is deadly and the storms relentless. For weeks at a go we see no one but the family, we try to keep out of each other’s way.

Two years we have been here now, Dad says that the terraforming is going well, the planet should be habitable in about three decades, Earth time.

I think about Earth a lot, though I try not to. I dream about it. Sitting on my bed, looking out the window as the sand batters against it soundlessly. Earth. Earth, with rain and cold and an outside it was sometimes safe to walk in. Earth with people, too many people. Still, is that worse than too few?

I used to cry myself to sleep each night, cursing my parents and their stupid decision but you can’t do that forever.

Eventually you have to accept what can’t be changed and move on.

Read: Migrants (bp coyle)

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