A Mothers Love

Emily put her eye up to the viewfinder of her large black camera, stabilizing the front end with her off-hand and aiming it out the spherical window below her. Focusing the lens, she snapped a picture of the landscape below. The Earth could be so beautiful, even in the worst of circumstances.

Pulling back, she scrolled through the images. “It’s only right that someone should keep a record of what’s going on down there. Who knows, maybe someone will use these in a history book in the future,” she thought, reaching out and letting the camera float steady next to her. Looking down, she observed the Earth. The side she faced was shrouded in darkness, the bright lights of some unknown city spidering out before her. Far to the north, and again to the east, she could see large clouds of smoke billowing into the atmosphere. In the panic, many of the oil and gas pipelines had been set aflame to prevent looting during the riots. Not that it mattered anyway, they’d never get a chance to use it.

Looking out to her left, she saw a bright light, many times larger than any star in the sky. Just since she’d gotten to space, it’d grown more than five times bigger, and equally brighter as it moved closer to the Sun. Someone had told her, she couldn’t remember who, that it’d burn up some before it arrived. “Maybe it’ll be small enough that we’ll survive,” they’d said; although Emily knew there was no chance of that.

It was nearly the size of Pluto, hurled in Earth’s direction thousands of years prior as it passed by some monstrously sized star far outside our solar system. Emily felt like she was watching a car accident in slow motion, but on an even greater, cosmic scale, and millennia in the making.

NASA and JAXA were the first of the government agencies to spot it, and decided it was in people’s best interest if it was kept silent for as long as possible. Teaming up with as many agencies as possible, the best scientists, physicists, and just about every other kind of PhD pulled together to figure out how to save the planet. But as they worked through their list, plan after plan proved to be insufficient to avoid a certain impact, and so the galactic clock ticked on ever so diligently.

A quiet beeping roused her from her thoughts, drawing her attention to the laptop velcroed to a small table folded out from the wall. There was a small white light flashing along the top of the screen, a camera icon shaking with the “Accept” and “Decline” buttons boldly below it. Clicking “Accept,” the camera came to life, a small image of herself in the corner. In the middle of the screen was a much larger image of her eight year old daughter, Anna.

“Hi Mom,” she said quietly. Her red, watery eyes and puffy cheeks let out that she’d been crying just recently. In the background, there was a mixture of voices shouting about something unintelligible.

Seeing her daughter like that was nearly enough to break her right then and there. She steeled herself and smiled, wanting to look strong. “Hi baby girl, what’s wrong?”

Anna used the sleeve of her shirt to wipe her eye. “Grandma wants us to go to the bunker, but I don’t wanna. I wanna wait for you here.”

“Oh, honey, it’s alright. Just do what she says, okay? It’s just like a sleepover, I can meet you there when I get back.”

There was a small pause before Anna asked, “When will you come home? I’m scared.”

Emily pursed her lips slightly, trying to hold back tears. “Real soon, I promise. There’s nothing to be worried about, everything’s going to be just fine, alright?” Before she could continue, the sharp crack of gunshots rang through her speakers. Letting out a high-pitched squeal, Anna scrambled to the ground, knocking the camera. A few seconds of silence later, Anna got back up, righting the camera to face her.

“Are you alright?” Emily asked, the concern finally starting to crack through her defenses.

“Yeah, they were outside, but they’re gone now.”

Wanting to steer her attention away, Emily changed the subject. “Grandma told me you made me something? Can you show me?”

Her face brightening slightly, Anna ran away without saying a word. Moments later, she came running back, her frantic footsteps sending mini shockwaves through the speakers as she entered the frame, hands behind her back. “It was gonna be a surprise for when you got back, but here.” Anna crouched down and brought her hands in front of her, revealing her masterpiece. Before her was a large wooden heart made of small popsicle sticks and copious amounts of glue. A single piece of bright rainbow string ran through the top, hanging off to the side.

Emily put a hand to her chest, it all was too much. “Oh my gosh, that’s amazing sweetie! You did that yourself?”

“Grandma helped me make the string hole, but yeah! And look!” Anna pulled the top to the side, pieces of glue flaking to the ground as she carefully swung the top off, revealing it to be hollow. “You can put all your favorite stuff in here, and then-” she used the string to hang it around her neck, the heart nearly as large as her chest- “you can carry it around with you, like this!”

Emily smiled, tears forming in her eyes. “Thank you so much, Anna, that was very thoughtful of you. I can’t wait to wear it.”

Slowly, she took the meticulously crafted heart off her neck, setting it on the ground next to her. “I made one for me too, so we can match, but Grandma said it needs to dry more.”

“Well, you better listen to her, Grandma is really smart.”

“I know,” Anna said, the energy in her voice slowly draining as the excitement began to die out. She looked downward, giving the camera her best puppy dog face. “You promise you’ll wear it?”

“I’ll wear it every day,” Emily said, nodding in reinforcement. From the background, she heard a voice yell, “Anna, come on, we have to go!”

“Coming!” she yelled back, before looking at the camera. “Grandma said it’s time to leave.”

“Then I guess you better go.” Emily paused for a second, neither of them saying anything. There was no way that Anna could possibly understand everything that was happening, but even so, the gravity of their conversation seemed to permeate through. “I love you, so, so much baby. I’ll think about you every day.”

Anna held up her hand, touching the screen below the camera. “I love you too, Mom. Come home soon.”

The screen flashed black, a dark reflection of herself staring back at her. Immediately, Emily burst into tears, the water pooling all around her eyes as it clung together. Small droplets of water broke off as she sobbed, wiping her face with her shirt. She gasped for air as she wept, the pain in her chest practically ripping her apart.

Eventually, Emily caught her breath; small blotches of tears stained her shirt. Floating back over to the window, she steadied herself so she could stare outward without moving too much. In just the time that she’d been away, the asteroid was already so much closer she could see it’s outline. The void of space became the perfect canvas for Earths’ final, spectacular show. The lives of trillions, dissolved in instant, like a wave to a sandcastle. By now, everyone back on the surface had less than a day left. They’d panic, they’d fight, cry, and hide, but none of it would matter.

A chime sounded over the intercom, and a voice crackled into the air. His voice sounded tired, and he spoke plainly. “Attention all passengers and crew, this is Commander Jefferson. Acceleration is scheduled to take place in T-15 minutes. Make your way to your designated bunks and strap in for ignition.”

Taking hold of the handle next to the window, Emily rolled herself over and pushed herself across the room, stopping herself with the far wall. There was a slim door on the wall, which she pulled open to reveal a rather small chair, with a harness folded over the back. Pulling herself in, she held herself on top of it, struggling to untangle the harness. Situating it properly, she buckled herself in, pulling the tension straps tight to hold herself in place.

This was the solution. Out of all the top minds humanity had combined, the best and only way to save the species was to abandon the only place humans had ever called home. Building the ship was a daunting task. The only way to accelerate it fast enough to escape in time, was to detonate nuclear bombs behind it. A large plate fixed to the back of the ship would absorb the force, flinging it through space like some kind of human-filled gun. As a result, it needed to be extremely durable.

However, the hardest task, far more difficult than even building the great ship, was figuring out who got to be on it. Someone eventually decided a random lottery would be drawn, ensuring an even distribution of people. Once the random households were selected, it was up to the families to choose one person to go, and the rest would be forced to stay behind. In the days leading up to the drawing, people waited by their respective mailboxes, both hoping they’d be chosen and also to protect it in case they actually were. When Emily got the letter in the mail, she opened it, staring down at the list of names on the card. Without hesitation, she checked off her own name, immediately handing it back to the postal worker. It was a decision she made out of fear. Fear of the riots, fear of her daughter being forced to survive on her own, but most of all, her fear of death. She knew she could never forgive herself for abandoning her own child, nor should she. One day, when this was all past, she’d grieve for both her daughter, and herself.