An Unfulfilled Dream

This was always my childhood dream. Before I understood what I was staring up at I wanted to be part of it. Twinkling lights created pictures in the blackness of space. They called to me, enticing my young mind to explore their domain. Like all of us, what was important to me then transformed into something completely different as I aged. The luster of the stars has dulled. What draws me now is one speck of light where a new year is being celebrated. It’s where I long to be, celebrating with those I’ve left behind and knowing it’s impossible.

Thinking back on my younger days, I realize that much of space’s allure and its unexplored worlds didn’t come directly from my mind. The idea of space travel came from movies, TV shows, and the billionaire-influenced government. That may sound odd until you take the time to examine what life was like during my childhood.

Earth was engulfed in multiple crises simultaneously. Many of the natural resources people needed to survive were disappearing at an alarming rate. Areas of the planet that were once lush with vegetation had devolved into barren wastelands. The concentration of salt in the world’s oceans had increased to a level that made them uninhabitable, and in order to breathe the air, masks with special filters were required to eliminate all the toxic impurities. And what was the root cause of this planetary Armageddon—human overpopulation.

The wealthy class used all their political power to keep things as they were until it affected their financial bottom line and social lifestyles. Realizing change was inevitable, they came up with three problem-solving options: 1) Invoke mandatory birth control, 2) Shorten the population’s life span by restricting healthcare to the masses, and 3) Create colonies on planets containing the natural resources needed to support life.

China attempted option 1, but found it to be unsustainable. The United States opted for 2, but was forced to offer various discounted medical plans if the ruling political party wanted to stay in office. Option 3, was the best choice for every class. This concept was easy to sell to the masses because it offered the poor the chance for a better future in a new world, and it gave rich people the opportunity to make more money by producing space- related items.

Overwhelmed by video hype about planets of the future, billboards on every corner touting endless opportunities on these brave new worlds, force -fed an education steeped in math and science. Surrounded by the natural beauty of the night sky when it wasn’t obscured by pollution, how could I not want to go into space? It was all kids my age talked about, dreamed about, and longed for. On my 25th birthday, I was a crew member aboard one of the first exploratory ships bound for Proxima Centauri, part of a system of planets orbiting the star Alpha Centauri. The journey would take approximately five years, travelling at just under the speed of light.

What none of the crew on our ship, or any of the other exploratory ships, were told is this was a one-way trip. If the planet we were being sent to explore had the potential to support large colonies, the crew would remain there and begin constructing the settlement. If it didn’t, there was enough fuel to reach the second target. Either way, returning to Earth was not an option. Once Earth was rid of you, you weren’t allowed back.

Proxima is a somewhat hospitable planet, but lacking in the amount of resources needed to support a large colony for an extended period of time. We reported this to Earth Command, as well as damage to our main fuel tank caused by a micro-meteor. We would be staying here until the rescue ship arrived. The response from Earth was brief: “There are no rescue ships. Thank you for your service and good luck. Ending all communication.”

Five years have passed, and we have made a comfortable life for ourselves. It probably sounds strange, but even though I was abandoned by Earth and left to die here, I still find myself dreaming about a trip home that will never happen.