Ticket to Your Future

Stepping out of my dirty apartment building, the acrid fumes of 2090 Earth filled my nostrils. Ah, home sweet home. Or at least, it used to be. See, even in the ever-worsening conditions on Earth, life had always been good for me. My family was close and loving, and when the news turned dark, we always turned it off. We spent a lot of time together, protected each other, and no matter how dark the world was outside, home felt like a beacon of light.

Then one day, my sister, mother, and father were all taken from me on a routine trip to the store by a low-life thug who needed a fix. I could go on and on about how this destroyed my life, how I miss them, blah, blah, blah. Been there, done that.

These days, survival is paramount. The clock’s ticking on affordable living conditions on Earth; only the wealthy can afford living spaces in the mountains, far above the increasingly toxic conditions. Scientists predict that the toxicity will never reach the highest tips of Earth, bordering into the atmosphere itself, so the extremely wealthy have barricaded themselves there and intend to live out their days in comfort. I have had no such luck.

As I strolled around my decrepit neighborhood, in which small gardens used to inhabit the small nooks where people carved out post information-age lives, I thought about how bad things had gotten in such a short amount of time. Only ten years before, people in this area lived relatively happy lives; after the food shortages had killed off 30 percent of the world’s population, the world reached a sustainable level again, and people could live humble lives. The climate had grown erratic though, and a deadly dust storm plunged people back into anarchy. Looting and garbage can fires, you get the gist; we’ve all watched enough movies to know what that looked like. Even worse was that this time, the Earth didn’t bounce back in the same way it always had. This time, the very air started to become gray and taste of arsenic, and people began to get very sick.

I honestly can’t tell you why I never got sick. Good genetics maybe? Seems unfair, but who am I to reason with who gets to live and who gets to die?

In any case, the reason any of this is important is because it’s time for me to get off this rock. You heard that right; instead of finding ways to feed the people we have here, Earth’s mighty resource-holders spent all of their money on terraforming Mars. To hell with the people who were starving on Earth, right? But I’ll be damned, they did it, and if it kills me, I’m going there. Dad always said “When one door closes, another one opens,” and this is my door. Would you look at that, another neighbor with a cough.

“Hi Jolene,” I remarked to a lifelong friend of my Mom’s. She nods to me through terrible hacking and gagging and spitting. “I’d give her a couple more days,” I thought to myself with a morbid and resigned sense of acceptance, internalizing a sigh. As I turned the corner, now 5 blocks away from my apartment, the massive Times Square sign blasted through the gray smog hanging thickly in the air. An ad started right as I came onto the all-but-deserted, once-legendary street.

“Here at RoverCorp, we pride ourselves on innovation. We have made Mars a paradise for all, at the low price of 20,000 dollars! Come get your ticket today.” The remaining vitriol in the commercial drowned out as I turned and walked away from the screen. I hated that company, and their absolute disregard for human life. Alas, life isn’t fair sometimes your enemies have to be your friends.

The real question was, how would I get 20,000 dollars? I had droned out the rest of the ad, but I had heard it so many times I knew what it said. “While supplies last…”

Time had to be running short; that ad had been running for close to 7 months now, and I had seen less and less shuttles taking off from the towering RoverCorp Headquarters. My heart started to pound. Dying here was starting to seem inevitable. I had tried everything; my job as a Computer Engineer was one of the first to go when everything went sideways. I had worked odd-jobs here and there, and I was resourceful, but frankly, I couldn’t scrape two pennies together at this point.

As far as I had fallen, as lowly as life had gotten, I had never stooped to theft. No matter how bitter I was feeling about the way the world had taken away everything that I cared about in life and then spat me back out, I refused to go so low as to leech off of another’s livelihood, however they had made it (looking at you, RoverCorp).

My knees began to feel weak, and I found a small concrete bench to sit on, barely standing from the rapid erosion caused by Earth’s deadly weather patterns. I put my head in my hands. “What can I do?” I thought. I was feeling desperate. I hadn’t prayed in who knows how long. Small, dehydrated tears ran down my face. Helplessness closed in, and I prayed, “What am I to do? Dad? God? Anyone?” I whispered.

Silence permeated the air for many seconds. I screamed. Pounded my fist against the bench. “Who cares if someone sees me? No one’s gonna be alive soon anyways,” I thought.

The only living being on this side of the street was a dark figure in a long coat, who seemed to be stumbling around. “Another bum,” I thought.

I sat in quiet exhaustion, resigning to my eventual fate of fading away on this poor, dying rock, wishing things were different. I wished that I could make some of the rest of my life, to live it for my parents and sister, who weren’t so lucky. I wallowed in self-pity. My Mom’s gentle, soothing words came to my mind just then, “Jason… this life wasn’t meant to be easy. But we can make it joyful.”

I noticed the dark figure was looming closer and closer. I was shaken out of my mind and back into the real world. Then, the figure’s movements became quicker. My muscles tense, and

I stood up ready to run or defend myself, trying to calculate what was going on. I clenched my fist, then calculated that I could likely avoid the entire altercation. I turned to evade the incoming threat and took a couple of steps when suddenly the figure yelled, “Stop! Please don’t go.”

Hesitantly, I turned toward the figure. They removed their hood, and revealed a severely aged, but fairly clean face, with a scraggly white beard and shaggy, but clean, hair. He smiled. “Ah, thank you son,” he sputtered in a slight drawl, trying to catch his breath. “Nobody stops for anything these days,” he remarked. “Hi… what can I help you with?” I replied.

He leaned on the bench for a minute, catching his breath, and then turned to me. “I saw you just a moment ago. Are you okay?”

I sighed. “Look man it’s a little tough right now. Can I help you, or…?”

He smiled as if he understood, and knew something that I didn’t. “I just wanted to check on you. Not enough people lookin’ out for each other these days.

My tense shoulders dropped, along with my guard. “I’m sorry. Gotta be careful out here. I appreciate you checking on me. I’m fine,” I said, and forced a half-smile.

He grinned wide and said, “Good luck out there son,” as he pulled out a little black book and placed it on the bench next to him. He looked at the black book, then at me, got up, and walked back the way he came, signalling a quick wave and smile as he went.

I was incredibly puzzled. He clearly didn’t leave that book on accident, and it was all very mysterious. How he came, how we left… I thought how my sister Lucy would comment on my furrowed brow, giggling at how “funny” it looked. I walked quickly over to the bench and picked up the little black book. It was leather-bound and finely made. Didn’t see many things like this anymore. I opened it up and in it was… 20,000 dollars! I stared at it in incredulity, jaw dropped through the Earth’s core. I turned to find the man, to thank him, or ask him why, or even give it back to him, but he was nowhere to be found. I spun around, perusing all of the abandoned shops and the few people roaming the streets, but he was just… gone.

I looked back down at the book, and thoughts raced through my head. There were so many, too many to recount, but one thing was for certain. My future had changed.

I turned and looked toward the towering spire of RoverCorp’s headquarters, grinned, and started sprinting.

Time to go to Mars.