Parnus- Part 1- New Earth

After being cast in darkness for weeks, blushing Parnus moonslight flooded the cabin and allowed him to shut down pin-prick lights overhead, saving what power he could for landing. Her eyes darting behind their lids, Scotia didn’t surface as quickly as Dusan desired. A staccato beat reverberated in the cramped space, his giveaway foot in sync with short and quick breaths. A relaxant mist no longer delivered in tandem with oxygen and nitrogen. Two years he’d waited. “Scotia”, he bent down and whispered close to her ear, long nimble fingers brushing her hair back from her creased forehead. It had grown, an initially positive indication of cell coherence despite a silver hue. If anyone was made for this sunless planet, it was Scotia, he thought and traced one vividly blue vein the length of her clavicle.

“Approaching Parnus”, the craft announced. “Secure your person and all loose objects within the next sixty seconds before momentum shifts”, it instructed. His hand lingered against her cheek for a moment longer. Momentum shift, indeed. Whatever lay ahead, at least she was here with him and Zehmy.

Except, Scotia still dreamed of old earth. She paced the gardens of Eudaimonia, normally where she’d find her best friend Haffney, hunched over eggplant or pepper plants, never choosing the best for their weekly portion as she did. Where could he be? Once, there had been sprawling flower gardens complete with an intricate hedge maze and baby animal statuary which separated Eudaimonia’s scientific center from the shoreline a few miles away. A sea surge claimed that parcel not long after most of the population left for Parnus. Her eyes stung from the gusting salty wind, but an almost-full moon helped her navigate a path. “Haff?”, she called feebly. Deja vu fluttered like a sheer curtain in her periphery. She retreated a couple of paces. Sounds from the equipment shed carried on the wind and made her heart clench as if it stopped. Scotia’s shorn head hinged back and forth fiercely in the shadowy night as her mind struggled with what it heard. Preeky’s cries of pleasure were plain, as was his “yeah, that’s it”. Scotia ran then, away from the shed, away from Haff and betrayal, back to their container where she’d plead illness. Just for the day. Then she’d get it together, she thought, but her body heaved with sobs and her childhood sweetheart story lodged in her throat. She damned Dusan, again, for leaving her behind on this dying planet. But… how did she hear him, “Scotia! Scotia”, excited and definitely Dusan, “We’re here, Scotia!”

Although they efforted, earth’s civilization could not recover enough ecosystem to sustain the species. Extinction became probable as catastrophic events occurred almost daily and fertility grew scarce at an equally stifling rate. Those who remained in the western world created Eudaimonia, a new society, in a region formerly known as Colorado. Scotia, Haffney and Dusan were born in Eudaimonia and began training for a new planetary home before the age of five.

Despite world unification, Mother Earth and Father Sun did not open their hearts again for humanity. Her core mantle and atmospheric shield abused beyond repair, she now only needed water to cool her from his raging beams. In only two short decades, they lost most of the world’s artful masterpieces, along with the seven wonders of the world and cave drawings dating back to the dawn of mankind. The seas rose over Vatican City, completing the fall of Rome, while towering skyscrapers across the world fell unceremoniously. Eventually, Eudaimonia’s population sustained themselves on a single meal of millet and sweet potatoes, later adding iron-rich plasma snacks when prisons became insecure. Cannibalism wore a disguise of justice.

Remaining scientists became royalty, and as such, reassigned resources toward discovering an exostar or moon with a habitable zone. They hoped for two decades, at least, of data collecting. Their plan provided time to devise survival necessities and structure developmental plans. Repopulation hopes seemed more fantastical than relocating. For once, every human on old earth agreed discovery was their primary move if humans advanced to another planetary home. After a decade of increasingly desperate and resultingly daring exploration of the Milky Way, only two viable sub-planets were discovered, exhaustively studied, and to everyone’s sorrow, ruled out .

Commander Xavier Parnus hypothesized a harnessing of enigmatic forces between Baade’s Window and the Galactic Center in order to travel outside of the Milky Way. His theories met with scorn, mockery and threats to his explorer license until, with the help of Dr. Urick Parnus’ biophysics team, he found a way through and beyond. The sons of astronauts, the brothers were catapulted into heroes worth worshipping once Parnus was deemed unexpectedly habitable.

While Dusan’s bio-pod had opened a week prior, Scotia had remained in an induced theta state with periodic windows of deep delta wave restoration until they arrived in the orbit of Parnus’ furthest moon. The pod provided several essentials: oxygen, hydration, nutrition, waste removal, and cryogenic sleep. In preparation for Scotia’s retrieval from old earth/Eudaimonia, Dusan himself had added an extra layer of shielding in hopes of mitigating metabolic changes and cellular abnormalities upon morphogenesis, or “reorganization” as Eudaimonia’s elders preferred to describe the process.

Frowning at a tiny oval scar at Scotia’s hairline, Dusan wondered whether he’d made a mistake agreeing to the implant. Coni would’ve let him add his affirmations regardless, he thought, then cast his regret away with a shrug.

Conshoi, Dusan’s sister and reluctant Director of Health on Parnus, added psyche reconditioning and unity consciousness to the orientation modules in Scotia’s biopod. “Coni”, as Dusan called her, also let her brother insert a few assurances throughout Scotia’s theta periods, after she gave her older brother an enormous dose of teasing. Nothing comes for free, she’d reminded him. With Dusan’s consent, an epicortical nano implant was placed easily with Scotia in cryogenic stasis. Research volunteers were scarce on Parnus, although generalized fear seemed to be relenting according to Coni’s measurements. Still, she considered all of the 388 humans who inhabited Parnus psychologically fragile.

“Scotia, we’re home”, his long dark fingers caressed her cheek and stirred their nano-implants into a dopamine dump with a bit of serotonin, a calming hormone he suspected she lacked. Her eyes calmed and the edges of her mouth turned up. Sharp edges of her collarbones and wrists had softened some since they departed Eudaimonia. Her cheeks weren’t sunken anymore, the injuries from bashing into the cliff face mere shadows now. The state of her mind would take longer to assess than her physical condition, her experiences an anomaly in the new Parnus population. People were accustomed to her being an anomaly, though. Dusan didn’t think she’d be happy about muscle loss, but Zehmy would make up for any negatives, after her initial shock. Almost two years could not be undone in 32 days, he knew, but he had not felt this hopeful since… Dusan shook his head, his braid clamps clinking at his back. “Scotia, wake up. Come see these bubble waterfalls on our moons”, he told her as her eyes slit and her head swiveled to him. “Here, let me get your breathing tube. You ready?” At her nod, his mouth turned up at the corners. Of course, she was ready. “You know what to do. Here we go, Scotia. Inhale. Now big exhale.” So far, so good. Her cough sprayed him in a fine mist and activated a humming air vacuum. ”Here, let me help”. A tickling sensation in her cheeks made her involuntarily crinkle her nose as he suctioned out her mouth.

She’d made it. Scotia squinted her scratchy eyes toward the rosy sky outside their spacecraft’s viewing panel. After taking a slow and long sip of unfamiliar liquid from a hydrobot, she croaked, “How soon”? Dreams of Zehmy had filled her theta wave periods even before their journey to Parnus. Drawing in enough air to inflate her lungs felt impossible, as if an immoveable weight sat in their depths. “I feel like if I could get a few deep breaths my mind would clear”, she whispered to Dusan, his face close to hers.

“Your body is waking up and taking over where the pod functioned. I’ll get some measurements in a minute,” Dusan replied. He lifted her out of the pod to a nearby padded chaise where he’d slept next to her since his biopod opened. He hoped he never had to get in one again. Despite closing the viewing panel and ports on immense swaths of nothingness, space was lonely. Scotia was not the only one excited about a reunion with Zehmy.

Ixkeeb insisted on an in-person introduction to Scotia. Dusan’s wide forehead creased and he let out a long exhale. If he didn’t warn her… or even if he did, Scotia’s reaction would determine all of their futures.

Exiles

Alphonse Mucha, Mars, 1899

voices decanted from a forgotten vessel

stirred in my bowl of belly senses

with care and precision by the manager

oblivious to a warrior child impatiently waiting

unspeakables falling out of her pocket

as she drums into creation

a newborn dragon nestled in ash

one eye open and searching

heaven’s detours for a

never-imagined journey

along illuminated slopes

slippery with meteoric insight

ecliptic signposts alchemized in timelessness

newborn galaxies explosions of awareness

unmarred unwounded unknown

slow cautions Saturn

feel and flow

sky as sea

reflecting black iris depths

from the edge of her abyss

a living volcano driving upward

lava roiling in her heart

cooled by eternal divine waves

she claims invisible Mars

her pockets inside out empty

with a nod she removes her helmet

and sheaths a broken sword

“I am the Sun!”

a sea of tears whispers within

I am the stars

Mars unfurls her baby wings

Courtland Cemetery

I was drawn here to find my ancestors graves. Once here, others beckoned, many with names and dates worn away. My Great-Great Grandfather William Beatty died from TB (“consumption”), common at the time.

I couldn’t find my Great-Great Grandmother Lucy Flynn’s grave among the Flynn markers, but maybe I will find her next time. A few women’s graves are marked simply with “Wife” to “a man’s name” and there are many small white stone markers without names.

Age is noted on many gravestones, even down to the # of days.

Voice

At ten

secrets leaked

on yellow pages

“Bruises on my Soul”

Innocent heart

nudging in shadow

sensing

lifelong land mines

Keys swing

on my hip

but locks

on Medicine

dissipate on

my tongue

Beckoning heart

Rousing

an inherited impulse

to unlock

Everything

Motherhood

Messy love

evokes a hunt

not for my best

for my redemptive better

redefined by innocent eyes

trusting me despite my wear

an evolutionary courage required

by a miracle

cloaked in countless wishes

covered in infinite prayers

adored beyond comprehension

The Detroit Institute of Arts

A Taste

DIA’s Facade- a nod to mythos and Rodin’s The Thinker as intro energy

Cotopaxi (volcano in Ecuador), Oil 1862, by Frederic Church is flanked by The Lost Pleiad, 1888 & The Blind Girl from Pompei by Randolph Rogers. Intricate details invite staring. The DIA tiled foyer is grand with interesting symbology.
Vase, about 1900, by Lajos Mack & Love Flight of a Pink Candy Heart, 1930 Oil on Canvas by Florine Stettheimer

The Freed Man, Bronze 1863, John Quincy Ward

Girl Reading, 1938 and Woman in Armchair, 1925 both by Pablo Picasso

Ganesha (copper alloy, 1600’s), Shiva (granite, late 900’s), and Vishnu (sandstone, 900’s) All by Unknown Artists

The Moods of Time: Evening, Bronze 1938, Paul Manship

Self-Portrait 1967, Andy Warhol

Family Album (Blood Objects) Exhibit F: Shirt, bronze patina 1993, Yoko Ono

Confession- I do not have artist info for the last 2 pieces, but thought they were too interesting not to share, the first a boy’s room and expose about how the things we own reflect who we are, the other a whimsical bronze statue.

I highly encourage you to visit The Detroit Institute of Arts and experience their impressive collection for yourself.

Eudaimonia- Part 3

Dusan

“Who is it, Scotia? Where did they come from, Scotia? Did they communicate, yet? Why are they here?” Leaders of Eudaimonia gather at the sea wall, each of them with weapons in their hands and worry on their faces, each asking me questions before they’d even stopped walking. While a few are in their defense overalls, most are still in their night shifts, a glaring sign of recently neglected drills. My Lab Assistant Preeky Kala, barefoot and rumpled in an unevenly buttoned lab coat over her prized soft bamboo sleep shift, afro flat on one side and braided on the other, catches my eye as she calmy cuts through the garden and simply stands next to me assessing the scene before us. I’m not surprised she isn’t carrying a weapon like the others. “Told you you were exhausted”, I said to her, “You fell asleep before you finished, huh?” My only friend left on Eudaimonia says somberly, “woke up slobbering, too”, as if it is a crime. “Wonder how heavy those things are. They should beach any minute, Sco”. One of her best traits is that she doesn’t ask me nonsense questions.

“Always the optimist, aren’t you? Thanks, Preeky”, impulsively I put one arm around her in a brief half hug. The trio of re-entry capsules no longer glowed, but bobbed like silver buoys in the lake/sea/ocean a mere fifty yards from our diminishing sea wall. Whoever pops their head up through the hatch of one raindrop-shaped vessel is unrecognizable, moonlight casting their face in shadow as they hoist half their body out and wave with their whole right arm. Rage stirs in my guts and I can’t help feeling a bit woozy as I peer at this New Earther. “At least it is human”, I intuit to Haff, who jumps a little at my voice inside his mind.

Realizing not only can I hear Haff’s heart racing, but mine is speeding up to catch his, I’m distracted by the implication for a second before he replies, “Only one capsule is open. What’s in the others? How does it feel to you? Quarantine would buy us time, even if it’s all good… Remember who they are”. It’s not hard for us to believe we were talking about salsa and eggplant less than two hours ago, high on our love and new telepathic gift. I’m unsure when exactly we accepted unpredictability as the norm. Perhaps it was gradual during those first few weeks after they left us here and made me Culler. Of course, I fought it, but no one else wanted it, either. They argued that it was MY family who performed the hated role for generations. “Good to see you, Preeky, as always”, Haff gives her a brief one-armed squeeze. “Let’s just hope low tide is low enough to keep them from hitting the wall. Spring tide… I don’t want to think about it”. Preeky nods in understanding. Haff doesn’t know I know about the two of them.

“Thought this might be handy, Scotia”, Garvey, his sun-baked face friendly, shouts over a vibration of wind and energetic chatter from our growing crowd, and offers me a vintage pliable plastic mega phone I know he prizes. Smiling at him, I take the cone from one of my biggest critics. The figure in the capsule retreated below and out of sight. “Can we harvest some, give people something to do? We could put a few things in the cellar and pull up the sun shade canopies over the rest if you think that’s a good idea?”, I rapidly ask the Master Gardener and he agrees to my multiple queries with a nod and taps a crooked finger against his temple. Yes, I nod back, we could all use a task to slow down our cortisol-marinated minds.

Hoisting the megaphone, I hope Haff is right and take a deep breath, “Thank you for getting here so fast and at the ready to defend Eudaimonia, Everyone! We don’t know a lot for sure, but Garvey got a glimpse of a globe on one of the parachutes, so they probably are from Parnus. We have at least one human, but only one capsule open, as you can all see. We also have ripe food in our gardens which needs securing quickly”. The last part caused some pushback, “If they kill us, what good will eggplant do, Scotia?” and “Shouldn’t we guard the shore”? and “Yeah!” and “What if they attack while we’re in the garden?”. At times like this, I’ve found their leadership fluctuates, and it’s best to let their fears vomit forth for a few minutes. Exhausting, but most of the time I’m surprised they haven’t killed me, yet.

Myself, I cannot keep my thoughts from Zehmy. My heart aches in my chest. I wonder if he is shy like me or friendly like his father. Or maybe, our son is nothing like us. The sky turns from black to purple before my eyes and pulls my attention to approaching daylight. We have 5 hours from purple sky to get indoors out of the sun, with the last hour requiring protective gear. While it is possible to wear the gear for longer, it isn’t advisable with solar flares. No one has even tried since one of Garvey’s Planters (Walco Prist) fried in his suit. I notice Garvey speaking with a couple of Material Science Gardeners and then they head in the direction of our ever-ripening vegetables, much of it in danger if left for one more sun period. Re-entry capsules and our curiosity would have to wait. Small plant canopies lay assembled and waiting for late spring.

“No matter what happens during the next hour, we all need to be actively engaged in surviving! Those capsules probably don’t contain food for us, but they may need protein.” There; now they shut up. Although I hated causing panic, it was the tool they responded to best. Taking another big breath, I prodded their fear, “If many return, make no mistake-they WILL take”, I paused for effect, “Everything. Do you hear me? Every. Single. Thing. Now, please! Help Garvey secure some of the harvest. We must use our time wisely! Haff and Preeky will stay here and wait for Dr. Gronne and any others. Let’s go!” Not feeling half as confident as Haff often tells me I look, I march purposefully to our garden without looking back. Maybe the work will provide some respite from memories picking at my gaping motherhood wound.

Grabbing an ancient wheelbarrow with worn wooden handles from the long gardening shed/greenhouse, I nodded to a few of those who followed me on my way back out, “Thanks, Adanni and Pesha. Thanks, Jory and Visset.” Not as many as I’d hoped, but I never knew who I could count on in Eudaimonia, except Haff and Preeky. Heading for the squash, I heard Haff’s voice in my mind, “Sco? Can you hear me Sco? I love you, Baby. I’m in this with you”.

“I love you, Haffney”, I imagine this zipping back and settling beneath his copper head of curls, both relief and hope tempering my aura of dread a bit. If there was any chance of us seeing Zehmy again, Haff would make it happen, I knew. Picking up the largest squash in the garden, a waft of citrusy floral teases me as I whisper, “thank you”, right before I cut it’s vine a few inches from the top with my pocket knife and place it in the wheelbarrow, quickly turning to express my appreciation to another. We were hungry sometimes, mostly at the end of summer when our stores in the caves ran thin. Pressure behind my eyes comes along with the effort to concentrate on only squash. I sqeeze them shut tightly then reopened them. A cool soup, made by Preeky and a few others came to mind, with my fried millet cakes in the caves this summer. My mind circled back to wonder about the person in the capsule, and if there are others. Why? As I placed the 6th squash in the wheelbarrow, I paused to make note of who else picked this year’s harvest, but couldn’t make out everyone in the predawn shadowy light. Drs. Kilgore and Alfonso, partners and colleagues of Haff’s in Bio-C, had almost a full wheelbarrow of eggplant, the two dressed in yellow coveralls and talking low in a steady murmur. Seriously academic, and older than most of the Eudaimonia Leaders, they mostly kept to themselves, just as Haff and I do. They didn’t notice me until I rolled up behind them with my wheelbarrow of a dozen large squash. As descendants of Elites, Haff and I felt we must frequently prove ourselves not only valuable, but likeable. Haff is much better at the second part than I. “Thank you Dr. Alfonso, Dr. Kilgore”. A quick and simultaneous nod on their way toward the cellars makes me think they might appreciate our precarious position. Or, they may just be afraid of me.

“Baby, I need you to listen to me. You need to hide, Scotia. It was Dusan we saw in that capsule. Dusan came back, Sco! He came back for… “, Haff’s increasingly tense message faded to silence, our connection cut off somehow.

“Haff? Haff! Tell me you’re ok, Haffney”! Instinctively, I left the wheelbarrow and slid between the container that served as our gardening storage shed and another which housed seeds, harvest, and Garvey’s personal living space. Dusan and I were betrothed at thirteen, which everyone knows. But no one knows Dusan is also my nightmare, not even Haffney. Shit. Even leaning against solid metal, the world is spinning. I have to move. Panic is driving me as I race to our container and my S-bag hanging just inside on a hook next to Haff’s. Slipping rubbers I’ve only worn once in the past two years over thin wool socks, Dusan’s hawkish face fills my vision and memories threaten me from several directions. My racing heart won’t let me stop, has no space for logic or love or anything other than getting as far from the shore as I can. Spoiled by my parents, I didn’t consider what my relationship with Haff would do to Dusan’s reputation, to his pride. But, he’d punished me enough.

Eudaimonia-Part 2

Old Earth

Despite the familiarity of our daily commute, it feels different between us, as if we cleared a long table of refuse between us, and put out fresh wildflowers. Swinging our clasped hands together, it occurs to me I feel loved. The night is quiet except for the rhythmic sound of waves slamming against our crumbling sea wall, a soft whoosh mixed with continuous long crunches, windmills grinding and filling intervals when the lake/sea recedes. The Eudaimonia Center, where Haff grows embryos and I oversee culling, is our most essential structure. Threatened by the rising sea, it currently sits with one corner touching the rising lake, solar windows 2 floors above the waterline. Once-sprawling gardens complete with an intricate hedge maze and baby animal statuary had separated the scientific center and school from the shoreline a few miles away. A sea surge claimed that parcel not long after most of the population, including our families, left for Parnus. Now, it’s difficult to remember Eudaimonia 20 months ago, before blast off day and their betrayal. Dusan’s broken promise, especially. I think responsibility for the others helped propel me and Haff forward, numbly in survival mode, our days melting into one long slog. We woke one another up last night. Had it really been less than two years? We’d both trained for Gene-Culling, a healing modality necessary for evolved humanity on a “new earth”, but fate had other plans.

“Can we stop for a minute?” A floral briny sea breeze reaches us after it winds among rows of closed sunflowers and bushes of dessert chicory dancing in the shadowy moonlight. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”, I ask Haff, loathe to give up this rare satisfaction. Yellowing tomato plants, eggplant, and squash are heavy with fruit, all bathed in moonlight. Haff spent almost all of his free time here, as did my assistant Preeky Kala, the two becoming close.

“I think the worms might’ve multiplied and soapy water worked better than milky, just like Garvey said, but the bone meal is what increased the crop”, he replied with enthusiasm, “Not the best timing with bio exams breathing down my neck, but I’m sure I can squeeze in a half hour before sunrise, pick for us and Mrs. K. Mmmm… I can almost taste your eggplant and sauce, Sco”, Haff gushed, grinning and entirely ignoring dusty empty patches where melons and cucumbers grew only once, seeds not germinating this season.

“I’ll make it for your birthday dinner since everything is in so early. Can’t wait to make a big batch of salsa with Mrs. K again, maybe we save some for summer if we can show some restraint”, I replied gamely, intent on keeping our bubble of contentment afloat as long as possible.

Haff let go of my hand and turned to look at me, his eyes reflecting a more serious bent. “Yesterday you reminded me…”, he paused and looked down at our bare feet for a second before looking up again and finishing with, “of everything I love about you. I remembered how I felt, how WE felt, before they took Zehmy. This place… it wears me down, but you”, he took my hand, spun the titanium circlet identical to the one I gave him at our hand-fasting, “with you, I can be who I’m meant to be”.

“Wait a minute… did you just…”, I thought, and couldn’t help laughing nervously when Haff nodded slowly, his bushy russet eyebrows raised and wrinkling his forehead, eyes wide in utter shock. “This is our proof!”, his thrilled thought is translated by newly-active neurons in my claudate nucleus, or the center of my brain, a buzzing sensation accompanying his message. “We told them we were meant to be!”, he said silently.

Good Goddess! I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces!“, I skipped a few feet then back, unable to contain my feelings. Throwing my arms around Haff’s neck and kissing him anchors me in reality, here on old earth, where I can not see the looks on our parent’s or any of our friend’s faces. “Ok, what do we know?’, I say aloud, knowing he’s in possession of facts.

Looking up at the sky of stars then back at me, he recites “Evolved genetic pairings create telepathic sensitivity, an evolutionary quirk in our DNA.” Haff memorizes everything he reads, one of his many cerebral talents. “This evolution has been found among families who’ve been acquainted for multiple generations, a new development barely studied due to an extremely small sample of only seven pairs”.

Many of our parent’s peers in the science community considered it unworthy of further exploration, likely because most of them had purchased genetic culling for their family trees, and in so doing, disqualified their kin’s DNA from evolving. “From what I remember, it’s theorized prolonged exposure to my DNA triggers your higher mind abilities and vice-versa…, but none of the investigators actually had the ability to document it First-Hand”, Haff explained with emphasis on the last part. Personal experience of any hypothesis is the gold standard. “Beyond telepathy, enhancements are unknown, but with what we know-they could’ve buried it”, he speculated.

“I love you, Haffney”. I felt a slipping sensation at the base of my skull as my message sped to my lover in a nanosecond. Reaching for my hands, he disappears them in his, and thinks, “Let’s go home for another hour. We’ll still be early enough”. I let my apprehension surface for just a moment before deciding I’d rather lose myself in him. The truth is, I’ve already decided the crier needs to be culled, as will anyone else who exhibited emotional weakness during their sacrifice, per the First Law of Eudaimonia. The seal my parents left me will stamp their expirations heroic, for the greater good of our dwindling numbers. “Race you there”. I pulled my hands away from him and ran, imagining the wind blowing away my worry about the aftermath. Reaching the door first, I sent a thought to Haff, “Meet me in the loft”.

While we telepathically planned distance and interference tests of our newfound gift, three re-entry capsules blocked the garden from moonlight with their mammoth parachutes. During the capsules’ splashdown, we decided to keep yet-another privilege of our birth a secret.

Their resentment was understandable. While billions scattered across the planet during climate migration, our families and friends’ families built secure estates and social clubs where resources such as energy, meat, and linens were more plentiful. Most importantly- this elite class rarely knew the pain of homesickness most people endured. Three generations of this “let them eat cake” mindset had turned the populace bitter, yet weak and less intelligent than those eating “nutritious food”. By the time the Elite Eudaimonia Center practitioners left for Parnus, including the ship with their parents and son, the only crops growing were millet and sweet potatoes. Iron supplements were provided without disclosure of source, most assuming they’d been created in The Eudaimonia Center’s labs. They were correct, but now they know the blood capsules are created from plasma, and exactly how it is sourced. They may have forced me to be a Culler, but they couldn’t control how I survived while doing it.

Haff and I were the first ones to join Garvey at the sea wall after he raised the emergency alarm, his panicked voice projecting a booming and almost unbelievable message about splashdown capsules. Container doors automatically unlocked for all leadership, a group of fifty three scattered throughout Eudaimonia. “Did you see any markings, Garvey?”, Haff shouted.

Still leaning his lanky form into the wind, Garvey replied, “Pretty sure there was a globe on the ‘chute, Haff!” The top of one capsule rose, then slid backward. Who returned to a dying planet?

Noisy

Should

do this

for dreams

to gain this

like we did

in our time

in our prime

Are you trying

Nothing worth having

comes easy

and you’ll sleep

when you’re dead

Look here

aren’t you glad

Thoughts & prayers

Go this way

not your way

It’s you

or them

and there’s not

enough for both