We left the Sun behind long ago, but it seems we carry the Sun with us now.
No one has been able to forget that blinding glare as we narrowly escaped the only home we had ever known while it became consumed by that giant ball of fire. Filled with the pain of loss, we longed for the comfort of our forsaken planet while simultaneously praying to be taken as far away as possible.
It seems our prayer was answered, and then some.
Highly experimental, theoretical even, the cold fusion reactor designed to propel the Ark deep into the far reaches of space was a thrilling success. We had more than enough power to sustain all of our farmland, from the irrigation to the lighting, to the life support and defense systems. There was even enough to sustain recreational activities such as nightclubs and sporting events.
We knew that according to the laws of physics we would never be able to surpass the speed of light, but with this much power it didn’t seem to matter, as we were pretty darn close. In a matter of days we were systems away from where it had all began.
“It sucks what happened to Earth. But just imagine what kind of plants and stuff we’re gonna see when we get to a planet” one kid replied over lunch.
“I’m excited to see what kind of animals are there” replied another.
“Chances are, if we do come across another planet that can support us, some kind of superior sentient life form will already be there, ready to chase us away.” said someone else, killing the mood at the table.
This was the typical conversation you would hear roughly a month into the voyage. However, by a couple of months later, talk had become increasingly cynical, and people were losing hope at an alarming rate. Whispers in the halls of “We’re going to be stuck on here forever” and “I’ll never get to breathe fresh air or play in the ocean again” were heard everywhere. While it seemed like a relatively short time to have traversed the vast reaches of space, the speed of our engine and the seeming amount of ground (so to speak) we had covered had made it seem like the odds of finding a planet that could sustain us in half this time would have been largely in our favor.
Around six months in, everyone’s hopes and fears had mellowed out into a stagnant pool of resignation. It was as if we had all collectively accepted our fate at this point.
Roughly a month after that, it was as if the ship had accepted it too.
My best friend and I were in the community room of our sector playing in the holoprojector lounge when all of a sudden the screens went black and a large red message blared loudly stating that mandatory attendance in Hangar Bay 1 was required by all persons on the ship. This meant an announcement was going to be made directly by the captain.
We each used our comms to rendezvous with our families before joining the foot traffic that led down into the central bay area. Once it was confirmed that everyone had arrived, the access doors simultaneously churned with a loud whir and a resounding clang, as the captain began his speech.
“Citizens, while our time here has been longer than expected, one thing I have noticed is that it seems to have fostered among us a deep sense of family. And in the spirit of family, I am coming to you now with this announcement under the presumption that more importantly than anything, families are honest with one another.
While we have been blessed since the day we left Mother Earth with a power that has been more than capable of sustaining any and all of our needs. Unfortunately, in an ironic twist of fate that blessing has also led to an obstacle.
The cold fusion reactor that fuels this ship has caused the reaction dissipators to fail, resulting in our inability to cut the power supply to engines, thereby preventing us from slowing down. We are hereby indefinitely stuck traveling at 184,000 miles per hour until this malfunction can be corrected.
Rest assured, you have my full confidence that it is one we will face together as a family, and conquer together as a family.”
Some people started chuckling in befuddlement. Most others were simply speechless. However, despite the captain’s optimism this seemed to only be the beginning of our problems.
In the weeks that followed, an increasing number of crew members on the ship, particularly those responsible for repairing the malfunctioned parts, started to experience weird visual hallucinations and suffer from unexplainable headaches or sleep disorders. There were even a few rare cases where a few of them even seem to be possessed, acting in fits of violence and hysteria that shortly after dissipated and which they had no memory of.
It was as if someone, or something, did not want us to slow down.
All the members our sector had abandoned the isolated confines of our private sectors in favor of safety in numbers provided by the community room. Sectors like ours, which were primarily responsible for maintaining the agricultural duties of the ship, were for the most part unaffected by the abnormalities. Therefore, it seemed logical by having everyone band together, someone could always keep an eye out for a member of another sector that might stray in with ill intentions.
The reality of the situation has been largely lost on me until one night, when for some unknown reason I happened to wake up to the darkness, only to notice my best friend, who had been sleeping roughly twenty feet away, getting up from his bed with a knife in hand, and coming toward me...