One Way

One way.

Rey’s finger traced over the letters on his ticket as he sat on a bench at the harbor. This was the last time he would ever be here, the last time he would see this ocean, the last time he would see this sky, the last time he would see this life he was so desperately trying to leave behind. This was the last time he would see his home. But it wasn’t his home any longer, not after today. His new home was a sparkling paradise that awaited him far, far away. Rey couldn’t wait. He had worked endlessly to get this ticket, his ticket out.

His home was a war-torn land. When the leaders of the new government had come to Rey’s home, they’d destroyed everything to gain power. The locals had tried to put up a fight, but it was futile. The new government’s weapons were much more powerful and plentiful than theirs. Rey had been living in a makeshift tent on the outskirts of town for the last two years. He didn’t have access to water or electricity, but it was safer out there than in the camps in the city. He lived with a group of about fifty others and they all took turns patrolling at night. They only had twelve weapons between all of them, but it was enough. Their camp was a fifteen-mile walk from the city, and the only ones with vehicles were government workers. Most of the raiders were unwilling to walk that distance for the little food and weaponry that they had, and many were too impoverished to even make it that far. Working in the factories did that. Rey had been sick for a year after he started working there. The radiation and dirty air were toxic. Even now his bones still ached and his chest hurt if he breathed in too deeply. His home, what had once been a vibrant and lush coastal city, was now a brown and dusty radioactive waste site. He couldn’t wait to get out.

Freedom.

That’s what his ticket and the woman from the immigraton agency had promised him. She said in his new home that he would have a nice one bedroom apartment, a job in a medical facility, and vouchers for food for his first six months there. It all sounded perfect. The food vouchers featured images of many foods that were exotic to Rey. A photo of a stack of round things had caught his eye, and the woman told him they were called pancakes. Whatever they were, they looked amazing. They reminded him of something his grandmother used to make for him before the war. But she, along with his parents and siblings, had died during the first bombings. Rey had been at the beach with his friends when it happened. The bomb that dropped on their neighborhood had landed only twenty meters from his family’s house. Now, all that was left was a giant scorch mark on the levelled ground, and debris from the homes that had been destroyed. Rey had dug through the rubble searching for his family for three weeks before he found what was left of them. After that, he and the other remaining locals were rounded up by the new government’s police and put to work in the factory.

The things Rey had seen in the past seven years were things he wanted to forget but would never be able to. The war, the violence, the death. They would all stay with him forever. But this new home offered him hope. All the things that were promised to him were things that wouldn’t eliminate the pain of a family and a home lost, but would help lessen it. When Rey heard about the contest to leave and move to a new, better place, he knew he had to be one of the twenty chosen people. He worked harder than ever at the factory to show his worth, ate right and exercised to meet the physical requirements, learned the new language from the books they gave him, and avoided interacting with anyone lest it lead to trouble and disqualify him. All his work had paid off, because a year and a half later here he was sitting on this bench, waiting for the ship to take him to the island where their flight would depart from, to his new home.

Rey looked up at the sky, trying to find the star the immigration officer had pointed out to him. It was supposed to be a big, shiny one up high. North, she had told him. He couldn’t remember which one it was, but just knowing it was there made him feel hopeful. The star shone for his old home and his new home. When he left, it would remind him of where he had come from and all that he had gone through to get to where he wanted to be. The sky had begun to lighten and turn a hazy red color when he saw a ship in the distance on the horizon. He stood up and moved to the railing on the dock, straining to see. As the ship moved closer, he could make out the black lettering on its side that matched the name on his ticket. It was finally time to leave.

Rey turned back to look at his broken home one last time. He took in the smoggy skyline, the old buildings that were in shambles, the factory with its billowing smokestacks, the shiny citadel above the city where the government leaders lived. All relics of what used to be a place he loved and was now a place he was eagerly leaving. He wanted to feel sad, but didn’t. All he felt was excitement and hope. Things were finally going to be okay. The ship was approaching and he heard the other chosen ones chattering happily around him. Rey looked down at his ticket again. He knew most of the new language but couldn’t recognize a few words. The immigration officer told him it was just the name of the place where he would be living. He ran his finger over the letters once more:

Destination: Earth

Extraterrestrial Test Subject