Tiny little Whitney did this

A light breeze rustled through the apple orchard, flipping the pages of a wandering souls diary, the gentle ringing of the quiet whispering in his ears. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, the longing pulling at his heart, a small smile tugging at his lips. Besides, the night skies were stunning.

The universe is vast. Endless. An infinity of possibilities and probabilities. One need only look up when the sun is down to get a glimpse of that grand canvas of cold darkness speckled by dots of stars and planets, the gravitational pull forming clusters of galaxies spiraling without a known destination. It was here, on the planet Earth, that humanity exists against the varying odds- because the universe allows it. It was here, on Earth, that humanity grew and stretched its fingers to the stars, wanting a taste of that limitless expanse. On such a small planet, within such a short time of coming into existence, humanity created the wonders of words both written and spoken to share thoughts and dreams, invented amazing technological and medical advances to extend the average lifespan and make life better, drew careful lines along canvases to capture the beauty of life and death, and sang of love and sadness. Through great triumphs and tragedies they survived.

Through it all, humanity never turned their eyes from the skies. The stardust in their bodies, their eyes, and their minds always called them elsewhere. The sweet ringing of silence in their ears on a quiet night, galaxies humming over their shoulder, forming the sorrowful sense of longing in every heart, was their gentle reminder. They did not exist in a bubble, merely observing that great vastness. They were the universe, in all its glory, wandering, thinking, feeling, creating, down to every last animal, stone, and tree, exploring itself and growing in its own skin.

As humanity continued, their advancements allowed them to leave the Earth they had always known, beyond the clouds planes flew among, and into the stars. Satellites had already made it up there, why not them? The Board of Leaders funneled funding into the Artemis Space Missions, from the astrophysicists and astronomers to the medical researchers to engineers and artists, and those needed for the project traveled to North America to get started. There were many trial and errors in the process, good lives lost and bright minds worked past exertion. But humanity was stubborn. Every failure meant a push in the right direction, a new solution to a previous problem. For every human that died during the project, a new one graduated and joined them with fresh minds and ideas. Hearts and souls poured into a single realization.

Eight years it took, everyone watching their televisions with eager eyes as the ship passed through the exosphere, past the satellites, toward the large chunk of rock that orbited the Earth. The landing was met with both cheers and tears, celebrations lasting for months on Earth as the dreams of humanity were fully brought to life. That longing to explore the universe was no longer a shared daydream. After that, more funds and people were put to work on a similar, much larger project. One to allow humanity as a whole to leave the Earth they knew so well and travel to distant planets and galaxies only observed through a telescope.

That had all started over seventy years ago. Since then, great strides had been made. Bigger ships, better equipment, new breakthroughs. By the time it was finished and tested, humanity was ready. Everyone prepared their things, filled out the proper documents, and boarded the Qube ships, the ships taking off for the speckled void above not long after. Not many remained, only those whose fields of study were specified to Earth ignoring the call of the stars to continue their research.

Two generations of the Gabler family worked on the Artemis Space Missions, and another three had worked on the Apollo Universe Mission. Apollo Gabler was included on that list, named after the program itself, just as his mother was named Artemis by his grandparents. He had been raised by astronomers and astrophysicists that taught him well, fostering a love for moonlight and shooting stars at a young age.  “Keep your eyes to the skies, Apollo. Don’t ever forget that you’re a part of it all.”

Apollo leaned back against the apple tree, gaze to the midnight sky in that wonder he would never grow out of. He wasn’t one of the ones that chose to stay behind, but here he was, feet on the ground and head in the clouds. His ship had a malfunction when something crashed into it, only waking him from stasis and making him traverse the wake-up tests and various rooms to escape before he even knew what was going on.

That had been a month ago. He had since built himself a home outside of the city in a wheatfield, exploring what remained around the area he lived in in place of the stars. It gave him new chances to learn and grow, tracking the other ships as he tried to find ways to repair communications devices and electronic generators so he could contact the others about the destroyed ships. His spare time was spent collecting what was left.

Love notes, journals, reports, calendars, unseen arts, unfinished stories, and unheard songs. He cataloged them and preserved them, finding the beauty in humanity’s remnants that could otherwise be lost to time or decay. It was important. A reminder that people had been there, that they were as diverse as the star patterns and as amazing and interesting as the things they had done. The universe was them, and they were the universe. It wanted them to remember and be remembered.

It made him feel alright, being alone and left behind, thankful to just be on Earth and breathing. There was only minor disappointment at never being able to see their galaxy from a far away point, and sadness for those who didn’t make it out, but he didn’t like to dwell on either thought too much. Sure it got lonely, but it wasn’t so bad being alone.