Panacea:

During The Great Depreciation, billions of people died. Scorching summers dried crops to a crisp while coastlines were submerged in seawater. Droughts starved people to death and wildfires destroyed forests and cities. Entire species went extinct from habitat loss which in turn caused ecosystems to collapse. Then, the superstorms came and ravaged what little humanity people had left. Desperate for control over an unmanageable situation, people began to loot and kill one another - a perilous moment in history called The Sieging.

Amidst the chaos, the ten richest families on Earth banded together to create Panacea, a space station with a manufactured Earth-like biosphere. Panacea was named after the Greek goddess of universal remedy. It was their attempt at a cure-all for the endless despair. Though its resources were limited, it had everything humans needed to survive and if you couldn’t afford the hefty half-a-million dollar ticket price, you could sign up for a life of servitude onboard instead. It was a viable option for those who had none.

Sol was six when her grandparents signed up to serve. Before signing the papers, they were given a plate full of chicken, wild rice, and sweet peas; Sol had never tasted anything so delicious. Her grandfather explained that the food had been cooked in something called ‘butter’ and that’s why it tasted so good. She’d never heard of butter before.

…

Sol finished counting the water bins; they had just received a new shipment. On a monthly basis Panacea sent collection pods to Earth to retrieve ocean water. They would then desalinate and purify the water on board. She updated the water inventory on her tablet and locked the storage room. Out in the hallway, an Upper child, who couldn’t have been older than two, ran happily after his mother. The mother glanced briefly at Sol before disregarding her altogether. For a moment, Sol quietly watched their retreating forms.

Aboard Panacea, procreation was a privilege reserved for the wealthy. Population control was mandatory and reproduction was rarely approved by the government. In fact, you had to have an extremely revered position in society to have a child aboard Panacea. Everyone else however, was force-injected with birth control on a quarterly basis.

“To survive, not to thrive.” Sol whispered under her breath as she headed in the opposite direction. It was what her grandmother once told her. That the Lowers on Panacea were there to survive, not to thrive.

As a child, Sol’s grandmother told her stories about the middle-class that once existed on Earth. Her grandmother explained that Middles were common people who worked hard for the resources they had and the things that they owned. While other Lowers onboard longed to live as Uppers did, Sol found herself enchanted with the idea of a happy medium. She didn’t want to be an Upper, nor did she desire to be a Lower, but a Middle would do just fine.

Unlike the Middles her grandmother spoke of, Lowers were incapable of owning anything. They were fed, clothed, and housed without any of the extravagance afforded to Uppers and it was impossible for a Lower to escape their fate. Lowers didn’t accumulate wealth, they merely worked to maintain their standing in Panacea. They weren’t paid any form of currency, instead they earned room and board. Once a year they were given a few sets of recycled clothing and a pair of shoes. Every few months they were afforded a new toothbrush, deodorant sticks, and soap. That was it. All other essentials were shared amongst them according to age and gender.

However, Sol owned one thing that other Lowers didn’t. A golden heart-shaped locket that she kept carefully tucked beneath her clothing. Hidden from prying eyes that would condemn its ownership. She wasn’t even certain it was made of real gold, yet to her, its value outweighed any precious metal. Many moons ago, her father had given it to her mother.

She couldn't remember her parents. After all, she was just a baby when they died in The Sieging. Yet often and ironically so, when she felt the cold metal of the locket pressed against her skin, it was as if she was being enveloped in their warm arms.

The Last Generation. That’s what Sol’s generation was known as. They were the last generation of Lowers permitted to live on board. They would work until they died and that was their sole purpose, to prepare a sustainable Panacea so that Uppers and their future generations would prevail. Sol would die serving aboard Panacea, just like her grandparents did. She would live her life working to meet her basic physiological needs while providing Uppers with luxuries she would never experience herself.

Sol entered one of Panacea’s many lounges and sprayed down a window. As she dragged her towel across the glass, she frowned at the large, mostly blue and brown planet far off in the distance. She had seen images of what Earth used to look like, with its sweeping green bodies of land and soft white clouds. It looked awfully different now. Now, those images were nothing, but an impossible dream.

They had known. All of them had known what would happen and yet, they let it happen anyway. In the hallways and dormitories, she could see the familiar emotions that lingered in the eyes of her Lower peers.

Anger. Disappointment. Betrayal.

She sighed. It was useless to think about such things. She wiped the window once more and the locket danced across her chest. Like a healthy Earth, the piece of jewelry was a symbol to her of something beautiful, yet never known.

“To survive, not to thrive.” She uttered again and continued to clean.