Through the window a desert reigns supreme. As far as the eye can see, not a thing but scorched dust. On the horizon a storm is brewing, but there aren’t any clouds any more. They fell to earth broken and beaten and slowly faded in to dust, just like everything else. I wonder if it’s worth taking a photo of this ancient landscape for posterity, but everyone’s moved away and in a few years nobody will be able to remember that there was such a thing as water, let alone clouds.
Obviously, clouds still exist, they’re just not the kind made up of water droplets. Now they’re mostly made of dust and bone fragments of animals we couldn’t save. It’s funny how humans can synthesise water and make it safe to drink but they can’t make enough to save anything else.
We’ll be gone before the storm hits, anyway. Off to try and find somewhere better to go. Somewhere with water. I don’t think it’s very likely, since as far as I can tell every planet in our solar system has gone the same way, the only difference is they’ve quietly accepted their fate, we can’t. We can’t accept that we’re going to die as a race and I’m not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing yet. It might be both.
But looking through this window, out in to the boundless desert, is comforting. It’s nice to know that if I were to stay here and die, I’d become a part of something beautiful.
And isn’t that what we really wanted all along?
Just to be beautiful.