I was just about ready when the comlinks turned on. I passively looked at the screens, recognizing my new apprentice. This was a first, this kid was
“This is Vancouver, Sir. Reporting for duty, Sir.”
“Come in.” The prompt automatically released the lock and the door slid. The kid was excited to go on his first mission. Just a quick glance at
him told me that he was prepared, eager and ready to go.
“We’re launching in twenty clicks, Sir.”
I nodded as I finished replenishing the water in my suit compartment and looked at him once more, remembering how it was when I started, the
adventure, the adrenaline. After all that time that had passed, it had become more of a routine than anything else.
I friendlily tapped him on the shoulder.
“Let’s go then. And stop calling me sir, my name is Seattle.”
“Yes Si...I mean Seattle.”
As we walked to the assigned docking point, I tried remembering what year this was; 2562...not sure. The corridor we were in had transparent metal so
we could see the vastness of space, the Earth below and what was left of the moon. I was born on Damascus but went to Earth on numerous times, for
different missions and I always was curious about the stories of our past.
In the year 2184, an asteroid which was detected in 1999 and appropriately named 1999 RQ
had fully impacted our moon, destroying almost half of it. In the early twenty first century, researchers from that era had done research for
decades on that peculiar asteroid, as the chances of hitting Earth were greater and greater as it approached. In the early twenty second century, they
had sent manned missions to alter its course. And alter it, they did. On July 4th, 2184, this asteroid would change the course of history forever.
The effects of the moon being partially destroyed affected the rotation of the Earth, which started to spin faster. The climate became extremely
violent, almost rendering Earth uninhabitable. There is still United Nations cells here and there on the planet, buried deep underground but the
surface has become an absolute waste. Somehow, some humans from the surface were able to survive and adapt to the weather’s aggressiveness. Some of
them had come to help in finishing the space city of Damascus
, a name reminiscent of our ancient past as
it was supposedly an ancient city that held the cradle of civilization. Some others, rebelled and refused to end up in space, claiming that the winds
would eventually calm down and that nature would return. Stupid dreams, if you ask me. They believed that humans were meant for Earth, no matter the
conditions and that to escape into space was not only cowardice but treason to mankind. Strange ideology, again, if you ask me.
All of us, born on Damascus were given city names, in remembrance of our once great human civilization. Depending on our aptitudes, the Damascus
Council assigned us to different tasks. My task, as would soon be my apprentice’s, was to find portal zones and report them.
During the course of centuries, humans on the surface were able to prove that what we see, what we hear, everything that our senses pick up, is in
fact one percent of what exists. That was a no brainer, really, we always knew that ninety nine percent of the occupied space was empty.
But they proved us wrong. They proved the Mutiverse, showing our Council that ninety nine percent of the space was not, as originally thought, empty
but filled with other dimensions. Over the centuries, they were able to learn to go in and out of dimensions back and forth through portals that they
invented, leading them to unknown areas of that ninety nine percent. As our Council had researched into this new information and had found it unsafe
or dangerous even, a team was put in place. We were called Surfacers. We land, we detect portals and we seal them off. I have been doing this, with
success actually, for a very long time and today, Vancouver would be initiated.
We reached the docking point and New York was there to greet us. This was an honor. New York was a veteran, a living legend.
“Gentlemen, a new portal might have been detected in New Orleans. Your job is to locate it, report it and seal it. Any questions?” As his question
was met with silence, he continued.
“I also wish to welcome our newest elites on the team, Glasbury, Melbourne and Vancouver. Make us proud, gentlemen!”
Vancouver and I were the ones to locate the portal. Denver, Glasbury, Teheran and Melbourne were the ones to seal it. The trip from Damascus to the
surface was as boring as it gets. It gave me time to explain the procedures of locating portals and Vancouver was all ears. It’s always the same
way, anyway. We find a survivor that looks suspicious, we trail him and he figures it out, then panics and leads us right to the portal where he
escapes. We pick up the coordinates, report them and the second team comes around to finish the job while we walk back to the transport.
edit on 5-1-2013 by SonoftheSun because: added title