House of God

In the midst of a blue-chilled winter, bricks glow amber as the embers from the fire spark fireflies into the room. It isn't much warmth, but it sure feels less lonely when it sizzles. How long has it been? Approximately 889 days in the new world and I still haven't been outside of the Center Dome. Although the Spring Gathering is next week, I highly doubt I'll RSVP "yes" for the event. A response–if any–will be an etch of my hand with the flag of my middle finger waving high. They took my Dad. In what world did they think I'd actually be a part of their auction? The green Mr. Everett adorns would have made the Garden of Eden jealous. I'm sure whatever he's been harvesting since Earth collapsed has whatever amount of civilization left packing sleeping bags to camp out the night before Mr. Everett opens his gates.

Before my Dad moved in with Mr. Everett, he told me to do whatever I could to stay clear of the City Scape. It's been filled with scavengers and looters. Because of my Dad's previous affiliation with HOG, House of God, we were pardoned by its members so I could live as "common-folk" as long as my Dad would serve in the City Scape, leaving me behind in the Center Dome. It was my Dad's knowledge which had Mr. Everett, the current CEO of HOG, become his ultimate fanboy–and successor.

Right before Cate's Comet hit Earth, my Dad had this vision of the new world days before we were sent to Xiron. He woke up in sweat, drenched with confusion, and held a flashlight in one hand while he scribbled his vision into his notebook. The tale was glorious–bright orange and red pierced through the atmosphere and blue skies began to beg for mercy. He recounts how massive the asteroid was, yet, how it paled in comparison to when it hit the Atlantic Ocean. A pebble has broken our home. He said. I didn't get it... how did he know this? There'd been no reporting of any of this on any radio station, news station, online blog... nowhere. None of what my Dad said existed anywhere else, except in his mind days before it happened. Earth had been destroyed by the pebble from space.

My Dad had taken this news directly to NASA the next morning. How my Dad had such a close friend group was because of his consistent accolades in grade school, all the way from elementary to collegiate. He was invited to speak at Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Columbia, and Juilliard–just because the faculty was interested in having someone outside the world of arts inspire a work ethic like my father's. There has always been a "connection" in our family. Honestly, because of it, is why I am still alive today.

Once NASA got word of my Dad's discovery, they laughed at him, claiming he had finally hit insanity. Of course, this is where he explained it came in a dream, appearing even more ridiculous by his peers. I knew it was true, though. I never doubted it one bit. My Dad has always been right about these things. He had always been tapped in... to something. So was Mr. Everett.

After the call with NASA, Dad turned to one other friend in his close community who may be able to provide some sort of soundboard other than laughter. Was he trying to save the world? I didn't think so. I'd always thought my Dad was fascinated by the fantastic and there were things a part of this world no science could explain. So, he called Mr. Everett.

Mr. Everett was a businessman first and foremost. It was in fact his skills in business which credited to how he had a staff of 203 members who had been all taken care of in regards to benefits at work. They had it all–everything. Here's the kicker, each member of his business had 0 records with the government, none. Their files didn't exist. Mr. Everett had created a self-sustained enterprise for his employees to live full-time on his property to build a launching center for his prototype, The Nova, to launch into orbit with 1,000 passengers to any hospitable planet other than Earth when it could come time for the planets extinction.

My Dad and I were on The Nova two hours before Cate's Comet destroyed Earth. The 1,000 guests were made up of Mr. Everett's elite 203 staff members and the remainder were all chosen at random. Prior to boarding The Nova, Mr. Everett had every member sign a contract which would implement his own formalities of a new government, HOG, enlisting himself as the first and only CEO. Much to our demise, we signed, so that we could be saved.

Now, we exist on Xiron. My Dad lives on Mr. Everett's property in the most developed part of our new world inside the City Scape. I live by myself in the Center Dome. It is far less developed and further away from Mr. Everett and his elite. What my Dad was unaware of was Mr. Everett's personal clause he added to my Dad's document, signing away his sovereignty as a freeman to aid Mr. Everett on Xiron until his death.

The Spring Gathering auctions off the green life which has been nurtured by Mr. Everett's elite. On the ship during launch, we took nearly a dozen different green species which could survive the climate and repopulate generously. Every Spring, Mr. Everett calls the entire community to fawn over his lush bearings. They gather in the center of the City Scape and auction off clippings of leaves and stems, merely an inch-worth of green to bring back to their home. Of course, money how we knew it–ya know, the green bills made from cutdown trees? It doesn't exist anymore. Mr. Everett has discovered something new... something which would make anyone cringe.

The fire is about to die, and it feels like so am I. Yet, if there's anything keeping me alive, it's my Dad's letters he's writing to me in the stars. He's been able to craft a way for me to hear from him using refracting light off of the existing meteors in the sky for Morse Code. I was a former Boy Scout, graduated Eagle. This was our favorite way to communicate to one another from across the woods in our own tents. Now, he's using the Little Dipper to tell me he's okay... and what exactly Mr. Everett is growing.

This year, the Spring Gathering will meet someone new. All I have to do is figure out a way to get in without being... me.