Solace

I can’t stand another day out here. I’m exhausted. I’m feel like I'm losing my mind.

There is no reprieve from the unbearable heat, but if I concentrate, I can almost remember the crisp air of nighttime. Stars shining above me, a cool breeze, the smell of rain. It all feels like a lifetime ago.

I ache, and I burn, and every part of me is sapped of energy. I want to scream, so I try, but only a hoarse croak emerges from my throat. A dry, burning pain cracks through my vocal cords, and my cry cuts off abruptly. Another worker appears at my side, and he holds a flask up to me. There’s maybe a teaspoon of water left, but I take it greedily. It is not refreshing. It’s hot like water left in a plastic bottle in a car on summer’s day. It’s disgusting.

I thank him anyway. He returns to his work, and I return to mine. We don’t bother with getting to know each other here. There is no point.

Nearby is the little world They built. A self-contained ecosystem to house the fraction of humanity They deemed worthy of being saved. It is a clear dome, lush and green inside, cool, and full of life. There is no way in. Up close, we can see everything, but those inside don’t see us. They don’t see that we work all day in black sand, blisters bursting on our feet and hands, skin peeling from the sunburns. I wonder what they see instead. I wonder what they were told happened to the rest of us.

My parents are in there, and every day I look for them through the glass. I haven't seen them yet, but I know they’re in there, waiting for me.

There is not much comfort out here, but I slip my hand into my pocket to feel the heart-shaped locket I always used to wear around my neck. It somehow remains cool despite the constant, scorching heat, and for a moment, I am reminded of home.

———

The sun slowly inches toward the horizon, and I wonder how long it will take to set. When I arrived, the sun was high in the sky. I waited for nighttime, but it never came. I learned that the sun would’t set for months, and the blistering heat would not let up for a second. I long for the cool dark, but then, I don’t know what night will bring here.

A person 20 feet away from me collapses. I don’t know their name; we don’t bother learning them anymore. I’ve been here for nearly two months and I’m one of the few remaining from my cohort. I don’t know how I’ve survived when so few others have. I don’t feel particularly determined to live.

Out of a nearby tent, two of Them emerge carrying a stretcher. They put the body on it and haul it away. I don’t know where they take it, but I know it’s where I’ll end up too. My body and mind are weakening, and I know that soon, very soon, I too will collapse into the sand and be hauled away by two of Them. Part of me longs for it.

I keep my eyes downcast when they return carrying an empty stretcher 10 minutes later. I don’t want to see their faces, to see their bright, translucent eyes staring unblinkingly into mine.

They don’t understand pain and suffering. They don’t understand the concept of cruelty, even though they embody it in nearly everything they do. They see themselves as our saviours, and at one time, I thought they were.

They arrived in small numbers, telling us what we already knew. We had ruined our planet; very soon, it would no longer be able to sustain us. Storms, disease, and war had already diminished the population to a fraction of what it once was, but they could save the rest of us. World leaders discussed it for some time, but ultimately decided to agree. Humans would leave Earth.

Some refused, of course, and they were allowed to stay. They would die, but they knew that. The rest of us were assigned a number, and one by one, without our knowing, They determined our placement.

My mother, a cardiologist, and my father, a physics professor, were placed in Cohort One. They left first. I was placed in Cohort Six, and left Earth six months later. I couldn’t wait to see my family.

They didn’t tell us until we landed here that we were not deemed worthy of survival. Cohort One was the group of scientists, doctors, academics, and children. They would live in the Dome, creating a new home for humanity. The rest of us were dead weight. We were matter-of-factly informed that we would be working to build facilities to support the Dome, and They opened the doors to reveal our new home. Rolling dunes of black sand, as far as I could see, lay under a bright sky. Waves of heat emanated from the sand, and among the waves were people bent over, digging and working, burning in the sun.

Panic erupted. Some ran, and They let them. Realizing with dread that there was nowhere to run to, I turned toward one of Them.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked. It looked back at me, a perplexed expression on its translucent face.

“To save your species,” it responded. Its voice sounded like a soft echo. “We are allowing your people to thrive. We have taken pity on you, and have saved you from the havoc you wreaked on your own planet.”

“But why are you working the rest of us to death? What purpose does that serve?” I continued. Panic surrounding me, and I reached up to my neck and held onto my necklace for comfort. Passed down through generations, it was smooth and cool between my fingers, holding memories of home within its clasps.

“If you were left to live, you would procreate, and before long, this planet would be in the same predicament as your last one.” Cold, clear blue eyes bored into mine. “In good conscience, we simply cannot allow that to happen.”

———

Time goes on, the sun lowers in the sky, and somehow I continue to survive. At some point, a ship arrives with a new cohort. I don’t look at their hopeful faces. I don’t listen when they are told their fate. I don’t pay attention when a girl appears at my side.

“Hi!” she says. I say nothing, and continue to dig.

“I’m Holly,” she continues. “What’s your name?”

I stay silent. I think she’ll give up, but she doesn’t.

“How long have you been here? I’ve got to admit, this isn’t what I was expecting. I love the heat, but this is a little much. This sand looks super neat, though. Kind of like Santorini, but darker, and if Santorini was a desert. Have you been there? It’s so beautiful. I went when I was a kid, before all the storms, and oh my gosh, I will never forget it. I always wanted to go back, but—”

“You will find,” I say quietly, “that you will get dehydrated far more quickly if you continue to talk.”

“Right!” she exclaims. “Okay, I’ll stop. Let’s talk later, though, okay?”

I go back to my silent state, and so does she, but not for long.

“I thought there would be more people here,” she muses. “Are they on different parts of the planet or something? Or a totally different planet? Or just on the other side of that big glass place?”

“They’re dead,” I interrupt her. “Everyone is dead, except Cohort One.”

“Cohort One is alive?” She looks hopeful.

“Yes. They live in the Dome.” I point to the big glass place.

“Good,” she smiles, and continues her work in silence.

———

I don’t know how much time goes by. I sleep a few more times, and each time I wake I’m surprised to find I’m still alive. The third time I wake, I realize that the sky is darkening. The sun has dipped into the horizon, and I marvel at it. It’s a brilliant orange, and it blinds me. When I blink, tiny, bright semicircles dot my vision. Holly looks up at it too.

“It’s almost pretty,” she says, smiling again. She has maintained her cheerful demeanour, despite being surrounded by heat and stink and death. She annoys me most of the time, but I find myself becoming attached to her. It’s a stupid thing to do, so I don’t respond to her. I go back to work and flinch when I feel her touch my shoulder. She leans in close to me.

“It’s going to be okay,” she whispers. “Trust me.”

———

Hours upon hours drag by, and the sun slowly lowers. Nothing changes but for the light; we continue working, and They continue monitoring us, regularly providing sips of water and small bits of food. I wonder vaguely what the night will bring.

When the sun has almost sunk into the horizon, I hear movement to my right. I’m shocked to see all of Them leaving their tent in single file. They say nothing to us as they pack up their vehicle. Eventually They climb in, and They leave.

We all stand there, dumbstruck. One person walks into the tent and emerges a minute later, telling us there is no more food and water. Those from the newest cohort begin to panic, but the rest of us sit in silence. We accepted our fate long ago.

I look to see how Holly is doing, and she surprises me by looking over to me and smiling. Perhaps she has lost her mind.

“It’s going to be okay,” she says to me again.

———

The sun eventually sets, and the change in the air is tangible. The sand no longer burns my feet, and the air no longer burns my throat. It’s the first bit of relief I’ve had since I arrived. I take a look around me, and I find that the planet has turned beautiful. Two moons are now visible in the violet sky, and the contrast against the black sand creates an enchanting effect. As I’m staring at my surroundings, Holly appears at my side.

“This is better,” she says. I nod in agreement, and we stand there for some time. Holly gazes toward the Dome. It’s lit up inside, glowing softly in the twilight.

“What are you looking at?” I ask.

“I’m waiting,” she responds. She offers no more information, so I sit and wait with her, watching the Dome. I imagine my parents in there, helping and teaching the other people in the Dome. I hope they’re safe, and I hope they’re happy. Tears prick at my eyes for the first time since I arrived, and once more, I reach into my pocket to find my locket. Pulling it out, I put it back around my neck. The locket lies against my heart, where it belongs.

I'm about to speak when a man appears, walking over the hill outside the Dome. Holly stands, grinning, and starts toward him. When he sees her, his pace picks up to a run, and when they meet, he holds her close for what seems like ages. The other workers have gathered, looking as confused as I am. Finally, Holly and the man break apart, and they turn to face us. Holly looks at me and winks.

“Hi everyone,” says the man, a little unsure. “My name is Thomas. I live in the Dome—” he pauses and gestures behind him. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come earlier. I had to wait until They left.” He stops talking, and Holly grabs his hand, squeezing it encouragingly. He looks down at her, smiles, and looks back up at us. “It’s all going to be okay. I’m going to get you out of here.”