The Saved

Introduction

25.3.3675, 13:00, Earth.

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say — unless that scream is the collective cry of all of mankind. It turns out there is no louder sound than the reverberating echo of almost every intricate love, dream, and passion that has ever existed being scattered into the star dust by an undetectable weapon of an unknown enemy approximately nine-hundred light years away. So, someone heard, and more importantly we have received word that this someone is also on the way to save some of us. Who will be the ones plucked out of these ashes? Who will be the Saved?

Chapter 1: Cold Air That Clings and Tea Leaves

13.4.3675, 8:00, Linnea.

I lean back to look up at the screeching insects, similar to Earth's cicadas, swarming chaotically above. The thick air they inhabit also clings to the back of my neck — a sensation that nonsensically contrasts the coldness of the wind terrorizing the shingles atop Terphesia's seemingly ancient cabin. I no longer want the dark tea she has given me, but I still drink, searching for some soothing sensation. As the heat tickles my tongue, I eye the bottom of the mug for a fortune. Tiny, jagged bits of tea leaves cling in abstract patterns, not unlike those of the bugs in the sky above.

Terphesia, my quiet guide, is the closest thing I have to a friend here, but despite her sharp, alien gaze following my every move, I feel more alone than ever. Among the Saved, I have yet to spot a familiar face. There are around three thousand of us from all around Earth that were chosen out of the one million that survived the attack — a small but diverse group. As the doors of the rescue ship closed, leaving the bones of our poor battered planet behind, I could hear others yelling out from below in desperation to be brought along. I want to know if we will ever be able to contact Earth again, but I haven't found the right moment to be openly inquisitive. I begin to ask Terphesia, but the words catch in my throat. This happens repeatedly as my list of questions multiplies with each passing moment here on Linnea.

I already yearn for home but remember that I don't have one now. I try not to think of the haunted hollow remains and instead strain to recall the sweet smell of the flowers blooming in a park. I'll be the first to admit that Earth wasn't perfect, but I will never understand when they say our destruction was deserved. Unlike Earth, the sounds, smells, and sights of this place provide no comfort for a human soul. It may not be drastically different here, but it's far from beautiful.

Please don't misunderstand. I don't mean to sound ungrateful. I know I'm lucky to have been chosen, but I struggle to find the same hope that the others appear to have adopted so easily. To be honest, I'm terrified. I can't make sense of anything. I don't know why I was saved, and the unsettling feeling of being a stranger burrows into my gut each time I look around. Even the air that finds its way into my lungs is perceptibly foreign to me. And, most frightening of all my observations from these first days on Linnea, is that this world has a clear disregard for anything which might be considered normal.

I look down to see that Terphesia has taken my mug to pour me more dark tea, washing away my tea leaf fortune before I can decline.