Across the Stars

Looking back on my old home planet of bright waters and grassy land was like a new beginning: not just for me, but for everyone else riding alongside in the shuttle too. None of us had fit in particularly well; despite our various differences, we all at least had that in common. In fact, the only time a majority of our clan of outcasts had ever been acknowledged by the whole of the human race was at their final valediction for us. My last detailed glimpse of the planet’s surface was a great blue banner with the words, “Good Luck! We’ll Miss You!”
Will you really? Do you even know my name?
After what to most of us was the most promising, welcoming appreciation from people in general in our collective lives, we were jettisoned out of the atmosphere to something cold and mysterious. Only a select few of the most highly-trained astronauts had ever walked on Mu’s surface. Apparently, it was safe for us, though. Only as I sat in the frigid seat, observing the blank faces around me, did I realize how desperate the entire situation was. Were we escaping from our old lives, or were we being banished by our own kin? Each forlorn face told a story of living in the background, never reaching the potential we all supposedly have to become someone great in life. Nonetheless, there was no turning back, and I was, by then, ready to embrace a new planet beneath my feet. Being trapped in an what is commonly known as the “rat-race” was meaningless to me, at least, and I was clearly getting nowhere in terms of career and success; apparently, our abilities that we had not yet successfully demonstrated would be more useful elsewhere.

* * *
Mu was beautiful in its own way. The uniform color of the rocky ground had an intriguing geometric quality. It was all the comfort I needed in that difficult time, and it was mere minutes away from us. The voice over the intercom spoke to us, “Please fasten your seatbelt and follow the previously reviewed safety information to prepare for landing.” The automated voice clicked off with a loud buzz.
I obeyed mindlessly, fastening my safety harness and my helmet. As they’d told back home, the helmet would protect us from any hideous crash that may have occurred, however unlikely it apparently was. Nonetheless, the scenario of a fiery explosion on a foreign planet couldn’t help but cross my mind. Mu, it was nice to see you, but farewell. How preposterous; we would all be fine.
For a comfortable amount of time, we experienced no problems during the landing. We glided, as if across a lake of nothingness, through the thin atmosphere and towards the planet’s surface. Only then did we see our small shelter: a tiny metal dome sticking from the jagged rocks below. The complex must have been underground, for that was all to be seen anywhere. Soon afterwards, we heard the alarm. The sound naturally rang in ours from the noisy trip, so we paid little attention. Only the red light that accompanied caught my attention at least. I unbuckled my seat belt and walked through the now shaking ship toward the pilot’s cockpit. I reached the door and slammed the button to open the hatch; the ship was then shaking out of control. Maybe I should have stayed in my seat.
The cockpit was as empty as it could ever be. This was to be expected; the trip was short, and the flight was simple enough without a biotic touch. The only inhabitants were a light on the panel reading “AUTO” and a red flashing light that said “DANGER.” At that, I turned around, panicked for the first time, and tried to make my way back. The other travelers of the great abyss were all just as afraid as myself, but they were wisely planted in their seats.
The next few seconds were hazy to my memory, but I do remember seeing that, outside the window, my new home planet seemed frighteningly close.

* * *
I sat up easily; I felt no pain, but I knew exactly what had happened to us. The pieces of our vessel lay about me with no sign of a pilot, of course. We really had been abandoned before we’d even left for our journey. I saw the other injured farther away; some were standing, and others could not get up. I rose to offer my help since I had been lucky. Because the others were so terribly injured, I perceived that the seatbelts were to blame.
One woman was terribly injured; her apparent injuries told me that she would surely die without immediate aid. I ran to come to her aid and knelt at her side. “Ma’am, do you need any help? What can I do for you?”
She gave out one last terrible scream that sent nearby head turning before letting her head fall to the hard ground for the last time. I caressed her face with my hand, burdened by her suffering demise. Already, others had passed on all around me, leaving a grotesque field of the dead and dying. There was nothing I could personally do other than help those who I knew could survive.
I tried my hardest to help those who seemed to hold the potential to survive their injuries. Nonetheless, more died while the survivors shuffled into the dome sanctuary. I was horrified at the apathy for their fellow colonists, but I especially felt sorry for myself. Here I was, helping the bedraggled masses, unprotected from the unfamiliar forces of Mu, without even a helping hand from the other able-bodied. I assumed that had dragged themselves into the dome, unseen even out of the corner of my sharp eye.
Once I was left positively alone amongst an eternity of corpses, I solemnly marched towards my new shelter to join the others. I circled the building once or twice, but there was no clear entrance. I pounded on the walls, frustrated with my own situation and the jealousy of the safety that was so close but yet so far, but it made no difference, and I got no response. Clearly someone will come out eventually.

* * *
No one ever left the sanctuary of the complex. It puzzled me, because there could never have been enough supplies within, especially at the rate of help we’d received from the commanders back at home up to that point. Then again, there was no adequate foraging to be had on the surface. In fact, there was none at all. Mu was a baby planet merely waiting to blossom, or it was simply a dead spinster among worlds, never breeding any life or beauty in its time.
Even more than the desolation and solitude received from my cohorts, I was confused by my recent lack of necessity for worldly needs. I had no desire for rest or nourishment, so I simply stood next to the dome, never tiring. Along with this came an extremely sped-up sense of time in which I saw the foreign solar system’s sun glide quickly up and over the parallel horizons. Later, upon noticing the rapid detriment of the dome, I realized time was truly moving more quickly from my perspective. More importantly, I knew innocents had died of thirst an starvation as far away from their homes as they could ever be.
Mu herself began to change as well. The once uniform jaggedness of the rocks on which I stood every day transformed into a contour of mountains, hills, plains and valleys. I had taken to, in those ten billion or so years, standing atop a grand peak and watching the steady movement of the Earth.
Along with the new geology, I observed sparse plants that grew all across the rolling hills of the planet. The bright colors grew in variety and size in only one night for me. All the very familiar-looking trees were my only company for quite some time while I spent my still confusing years on the planet. However, the surprises had only just begun.

* * *
My new discovery considerably depressed me; it was upsettingly clear about one billion years later that I had perished in the crash. I decided to simply accept the theory as my fulfilled destiny. I would remain eternally, invisible and unnoticed as this buzzing new planet’s godparent, at most. I had, up to that point, only witnessed its birth.
The first critters finally emerged. I can’t exactly explain how, but I expected them to arrive eventually; it was a biological pattern I had once memorized, I suppose. Insects and birds filled the skies, while giant animals walked across my planet. I watched them in their simple habits of subsistence and survival. Each phase of evolution was short, and it was difficult to enjoy. Many times, some kind of major change-- a volcanic eruption, large meteor, and varying climate changes-- far too rapid for me to notice would alter the organisms that I observed.
Of course, another mystery had arisen that questioned this bizarre concept: everything that had occurred thus far on the planet was directly parallel to the past workings of my imagination. Everything from the rolling hills to the monstrous and tiny creatures seemed very reminiscent of my creative essence. A new explanatory theory arose; I now accept that I truly am the creator of this world.
Somehow, the destructive nature of my death combined with the intentions of the help I offered was transferred into the planet. I was controlling the past, present, and future of a whole domain.

* * *
The final justification of my thought process came into being with a new creature. Things just like myself lived on my planet. Time slowed to what, to me, looked like a near stand still after a trillion years of expedience. I believe that my inward thinking created these apparent monsters. I dreamt of the hateful things with whom I lived an eternity ago and how they may have had something to do with my demise. They were now, unfortunately, displayed before my eyes, impossible to ignore infesting my imagination.
As if a certain someone had been waiting for me to come to the right conclusions, time finally returned to normal. I stood, vulnerable, at the foot of something taller than any of my other creations. I had simply lost control. Nothing I did made the increasingly dangerous situation better. These demons fought each other over land, beliefs, money. I had never meant to create these things, but they had taken utter domination over what was once a natural beauty of a world. The creatures called it “Earth.” Thinking back upon the words I once spoke in a distance life, these words used to mean “only ours.”
With the loss of my awesome ability, I slowly traversed to my favorite high peak, still untouched by the infestation. I reached the top after a painful and worldly climb. Squinting in the horrible smoke from the unnatural creations below, I tried to yell out to them. I had not used my voice in so long that it was painful at first, but I managed to fit a few words in with the hustle and bustle. “It’s yours now! ‘Earth’ is not mine!”
I then ceased to inhabit Earth. My story should serve as a warning concerning the power of thought. To the people of Earth, I would say, “You are no more than the nervously envisioned product of my paranoia. However, the fact that you exist makes you vulnerable to creativity; beware your own imagination, for it has the potential to give birth to both beauty and that which will destroy everything else.”