I'm sitting in my room as the alarm goes off.
I hear the bodyless voice say 'stay calm, and proceed your emergency evacuation' and almost right after, I hear voices all around me not staying calm. I jump off my bed, where I had been watching the television, and exit my room, and as I do so, the sounds get louder.
Alarms blaring.
People screaming.
And the fall of footsteps.
I find my parents amidst the mess in the lobby of our apartment building, and run to them.
"Oh Tristan, its going to be just fine," my mom says, just like when I had nightmares at seven years old, problem is, I'm 14.
"I know mom," I say, "I know."
We walk out as a family and down the street, where our launch field is. We are met with a large crowd, and as we get closer, we are asked to get out our ID cards. My parents pull them from their wallets, scan them, and the small screen turns green, and they are directed to a line where scientists and doctors are, just like my parents. When I scan mine, the screen flashes yellow and I'm directed to the kids line. I give my parents one last glance as we all enter the building.
I'm the last in the kids line. The doors close. They can't fit any more people at this site. Which is mostly for scientists, doctors, and engineers, who are the most valuable to our culture.
We keep on moving up in the line, and none of us can hear the officials through the sound of ships taking off. I suddenly leave the building, as the line advances. I see the last few ships, and people shuffling in, the doors closing, and the pods moving to take off. The last one comes. The last official crowds everyone in, but doesn't see me (curse you short, skinny genes) due to his trying to calm down others. And the last ship takes off. With the idiot officer. But you know what, I'm not that disappointed. I run outside, thinking I can go somewhere else, but I watch as the last of the ships leave.
I watch the shapes moving in the distance. Leaving our planet forever. One of them has my parents.
The gravity of what happened sinks in, and I lie on the hot asphalt and cry.
ns 15.158.61.41da2
