I have no sense of time. My planet died a little ago—three days?
I’ve rested three times since the war, but my wife has rested five times.
Perhaps it’s been a week and I just can’t get to sleep. I am a hero for being
alive, but a coward by the same right.
Only three rests ago
I had a gun in my hands, pointed into the face of a monster. It was a creature
of hate and lust, and ending its existence gave me pleasure. My wife was beside
me, fighting alongside me. We had neutralized many of the enemy. Their bodies
lay scattered at our feet. It was a moment of glory.
Then the end came.
Thirty feet from
where we stood I could see the enemy preparing a weapon. It was a bomb—a
suicidal bomb. The enemy had realized they were losing, and their hatred drove
them to total destruction.
the situation, I ran. I grabbed my wife. I took her in my arms and ran to the
nearest transport. Turning it on, we rode through time and space. Stacks of
nanoprocessors bounced around us as they travelled with us towards a
Now I am here. Far
away from our destroyed home. Sleeping on an unfamiliar planet that thinks
itself to be some twisted version of the Garden of Eden. I am Adam, and Eve
lays beside me. We will ensure the survival of our race, but the glory of our
people died with our planet. I can tell my children that I am a decorated hero,
but they will always be descendants of a coward. They may learn to call this
new rock home. They may learn to fight like the Ulthway. They may restore the empire
we once had. But they will never restore our culture. An empire built by a
coward is nothing more than a bag of labeled rocks, however big the rocks may
Zuras is a young writer and musician from
Maine. Since the start of the pandemic he took up creative writing as an extra
pastime. You can contact him at email@example.com