Deadly Beauty

Deadly Beauty

Alysa watched the night skies above her, filled with streaking lines of varying color. Hundreds and thousands of meteors scored the sky, each a different color than the last. The phenomena created a latticework of rainbow lines, the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

“I think it’s funny how something so gorgeous can kill me so easily…” She said softly, lifting a hand towards the sky as if she could pluck one of the deadly projectiles from the horizon.

She let her arm fall, brushing the arm of the person accompanying her. The grass, while synthetic, was still cold and comforting against her back. As she pondered the capabilities of meteors, one answered her wonders by seemingly deviating, and falling directly towards her. She watched placidly as it came for her, as if watching destiny unfold.

A thousand feet above her, she watched as the meteor shattered into millions of pieces after striking a net of what looked like lightning, and then those pieces of meteor into dust in the wind, as she had so many times before.

“The energy field, as always, is impeccable. I hope I can work on one of those one day…” Said her companion, just as softly as her.

Alysa and Markus had known each other for a long time, both being born on the ever-expanding Martian colony, the third one built. While she took interest in the forces of the universe, he saw the technologies man made to combat these forces as far more interesting. In that field, the pair seemed to synchronize, and could talk for hours on end.

Coming to the southern edge of the third bubble was one of their favorite hobbies, and she tried to make it to every meteor shower she could, ever since she could walk there on her own.

The energy field above the dome of several meters thick plexiglass, which usually sat invisible to the naked eye, seemed to ripple as another meteor struck, a wave of protective energy flexing out to the edges. Both forces of protection worked in tandem, once effective for meteor showers like this, the other effective at blocking the harsh red sandstorms of mars, a familiar and similarly beautiful force of nature.

The pair laid there for another hour before the shower had finally began to die out, the sky regrettably clearing of the natural phenomena. With a disappointed sigh, Alysa sat up, rubbing weary eyes. It was late, later than she thought. Her parents wouldn’t be mad. After all, what trouble could she possibly get into confined in a dome? She had wondered that for her whole life, wishing to find a way to break the monotony of the days on Mars.

“Guess we should be getting back…” Markus said, running a hand through his blonde hair. He had recently cut it short, but his hands kept forgetting that.

“Yea, guess so…” Alysa said, glancing wistfully at the sky one last time.

They set off down a familiar path, as were all things in her life. She longed for something new, something fresh and exciting. She longed for something far, far out of her reach.

Around them, buildings sprawled in a pattern thought up long before she was born. The perfectly planned city of the third colony was built around the concept of the dome, buildings in the center far taller than those on the edges, with the very seam of the glass protection used for varying farm and cattle land.

Alysa memorized the city long ago, every step she took taken a thousand times before.

It was another quarter hour before the two arrived at the tall building filled ground to sky with apartments where they lived. They were silent as they walked, nothing to talk about that they hadn’t already. Even as they parted a dozen floors up, not a word other than goodnight was uttered.

She pushed open the door to her family’s apartment, no key for the lock. The chip in the back of her hand the size of a grain of rice was scanned, accepting her bio signature as one belonging to one of the apartments residences.

The chips were integral to everyday interactions in the Martian city, both used as a medium for money and identification. They worked off of one’s innate bio signature, something unique to everyone, something that couldn’t be faked. If the signature didn’t match with the chips saved data, it just didn’t work, which entirely eliminated criminals attempting to cut a chip from someone’s hand.

In retrospect, the chips were a little odd. Markus had brought up the conversation many times, talk of the government tracking their every move and their biological status. Alysa believed that was possible, but didn’t think to worry on it. After all, she had had the thing since just after she was born. There was little the united government didn’t know about her by now.

As she stepped through the door, she was hit by a wave of familiar smells. The variety of smells were backed by a strong aroma of roasted beef, which meant only one thing. Her mother decided to make stew with the rations provided, something many of the poorer families did.

Every few days, a delivery of rations were given to every family, wealthy or poor. What they did with those rations was entirely up to them,, but most often stews and soups were made as they were relatively easy, and could last quite a while frozen. In all honesty, Alysa was sick of it.

She had dreamt of the cuisine back on the human race’s home world of earth, home to hundreds of cultures, each unique in their own right. She hoped to make it there one day, but it was highly unlikely.

“Stews on the stove, dear.” Her mother called from a room over, surely distracted watching the current news on the television.

As Alysa prepared a bowl she overheard what was being spoken, something about relations with the superpowers of the world coming into even further conflict. Another reason why Alysa would likely never make it to earth. The wars. Threat of nuclear conflict was the original reason for the Martian colonies, and nothing much had changed in the fifty or so years since first launch.

Except the power behind the threats.

Nation destroying bombs had been possible for many years, but more recent discoveries in various fields of science opened many new avenues, avenues of utter destruction. Alysa was confident nothing would come of the threats, considering the very fact of mutual destruction. There was little that could be done but threats, threats that got emptier every year.

With a heavy sigh, she took her steaming bowl of the same stew she had every other night to her room, sitting heavily at her desk. She brushed her finger by the power of her computer, and the light blinked on. She stared at the screen, that of which displayed a show she had grown fond of, as she finished her dinner.

Some time later, bowl emptied, she rested her head on her arms, both crossed on the desk in front of her. Her eyes grew heavy as the show before her played on. It wasn’t long until she lost the fight for consciousness, succumbing to the sleep her body bargained for. As her mind faded to dreams, she thought of the one thing that was almost always on her mind.

I wonder if tomorrow will hold anything new...

End.