A World Away

I thought the oval office would've been bigger than it was. It felt too cramped for the leader of the free world to do their business in. Of course, that is if you agree that the president of the United States is the leader of the free world. And, I suppose, whether you agree with that depends on what you class as the free world. Either way, these questions were, hopefully, going to be irrelevant in three months' time.

That's what I was there for, sitting on a couch mere inches from the most important desk in America. The president was about to walk in, sit at said desk and call up the prime minister of the United Kingdom. It was my job to then convince them both to basically forget about the threats the Russians had been making. I had to look the president in the eyes and tell them to not worry about Russia. I don't think any president in history has ever been told to not worry about Russia, but, hell, I guess I am somewhat of a history-maker.

He walked in flanked by six suits. They all looked panicked, walking hastily like the ground was made of hot coals. He didn't seem to share their stresses, however. He was calm, breathing deliberately in time with his steps. I rose to my feet and extended my hand, "Joe Fletcher, but you, Mr. President, can call me what my friends call me: Fletch." He had the grip of a president.

"Betcha didn't picture your day going like this when you woke up this morning."

"No, sir, I can't say I did."

"Okay, then, shall we get started."

Just as I knew he would, the president sat down at his desk and dialed for 10 Downing Street.

"Is that Fletcher fellow there with you?" asked the Prime Minister.

"Uh-huh," grumbled the President. "Introduce yourself, Fletch."

"Um, hello, um, Prime Minister, this is Joe Fletcher, CEO and founder of Fletch Dynamics."

"Hi," she replied abruptly.

"Okay, so," began the President. "We're all here, because Russia, once again, has been making some demands. Those demands are all centred around your... how shall I put it... your project." I did my best to ignore how much of an oversimplification calling it my project really was.

"Yes, I was told they want to be the ones leading Operation: Ascension and I think--" I was interrupted by sniggering coming from the speaker that was sitting on the desk. The Prime Minister was laughing at me. "I'm sorry, Prime Minister, was it something I said?"

"I can't sit here and listen to this crap, I really can't."

"Judy, I really wish you'd hear him out," said the President coming to my defence.

"No, I will not. The man is a snake-oil salesman. I'm sorry, Mr. Fletcher, but it's the truth. This 'Operation: Ascension' is a... it's a... fantasy. A fantasy that everyone may be buying into, but not me. There is no Earth 2.0 or New Earth or whatever you're calling it. It's all a lie!" I knew trying to get a word in was useless. "You wanna know what isn't a lie," she continued, "Russia threatening to cutoff the pipeline! The pipeline that supplies the UK with 5% of their energy and supplies the EU with over HALF of their energy. Do you understand the consequences if that were to happen? Do you, Mr. Fletcher?"

I cleared my throat before answering her question. Confrontation usually made me nervous, but I knew the stakes were too high to stay quiet on this one. "I understand that would mean - potentially- millions of families going without heating or electricity. It means hospitals won't even be able to keep the lights on, but, I also understand that if Operation: Ascension - which is very real, by the way - is successful, then these problems will be irrelevant. We will literally fly away, leaving all our problems behind on this burning rock."

"Roger, how can you sit here and listen to this utter drivel."

"Judy, I've seen it for myself," The President's words lingered in the air for - what was for me - a glorious moment. That shut her up. "I've visited the launchpad, the testing centres, his offices, all of it. I've seen images of this supposed new home for us. A Goldilocks planet they call it. It's real, Judy, I know it and you best believe Russia know it. Won't be long 'till China come knocking for a piece of pie of their own. The United States flag will be the first flag planted in the soil of New Earth. Our enemies are gonna fight us tooth and nail to stop that from happening and I need you on board, Judy, if we're gonna prevent that flag from being Russian."

I rolled my eyes, barely believing this is what my hard work had devolved into. "With all due respect, Mr. President, why does it matter what flag gets planted first? Isn't the most important thing getting our population off this planet before it's environment becomes unlivable. That really isn't as far away as you think it is and we need to get this thing going. But if you're gonna waste your time squabbling between yourselves then we'll never get off this forsaken mound of dirt."

"Son, you're a red-blooded American like myself, are you not?"

I sighed, "Yes, I suppose, although if you wanna talk blood, I'm mostly Nigerian."

"But you built your life, where? Here, right?" I nodded. "Picture this: three hundred, four hundred, five hundred years down the line, in some futuristic classroom with hovering whiteboards and desks made out of LED screens or what have you, what do you imagine the teacher is telling them kids? 'Cause I imagine the teacher telling those kids about the great country that raised the young heroes who first landed on New Earth."

"Okay, sir. I think I'm gonna go back to work now."

"Oh, great," came the voice from across the pond. "Fat lot of good he was."

"I'm sorry if I wasted your time," I said humbly, "but, I don't see us finding a solution anytime soon and like I said, I think you'll find these issues will disappear before long. Just think back to this moment when you're standing on new grass, breathing in new, clean oxygen." With that I left the oval office feeling slightly empowered. What I should've felt was fear. I was naive, I underestimated how far those in power would go just to be the first.

"Half of the world doesn't believe we can do this and the other half is too busy working out how they can steal the credit from us to realise how screwed they both really are," I was standing in front of my favourite people. My employees. My scientists and technicians who made all this possible. "I'm sure you all read the news today, that another tragically large section of the polar ice caps has fully melted. This has raised sea levels by 70 metres. About 230 feet. That wasn't supposed to happen for another seven years. The situation is bleak. That's why we need to fast track this. So, the first scouting expedition will launch in a week, instead of the originally planned, three weeks."

Somebody in the back, I can't quite recall who, put their hand up and asked me if it was dangerous to push the scouting mission forward. I answered, "No, I can assure you it's perfectly safe. In fact, I'm so confident that I will be going out there myself. I will be one of the scouts."

One week later I was strapping into a rocket that I helped design. I looked over to the seat opposite me. Hayley Hendrix gave me a nervous thumbs up. I returned with a more stable thumbs up of my own. I wasn’t scared. I probably should have been, but I had real faith in the work we’d done. I just knew, deep down in my gut, that this was gonna work. It had to work… It just had to. In the seat next to me sat Ernie Barton, an agricultural expert who’d been studying the plant-life of New Earth using images captured by rovers and super telescopes. Now was his time to look at them up close. His excitement was contagious. We three we’re going to be the first three. The first to step foot on New Earth. Just as the capsule door was about to close, a young scientist called Nathan York rushed to the end of the boarding ramp. He was holding a large, bulky satellite phone. “Sir. Mr. Fletcher, sir.”

“What is it, Nathan,” I said unstrapping.

“It’s for you. It’s… well, it’s Russia.” I dismissed Nathan and took the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Mr. Fletcher,” the accent was unmistakable. “I am calling from the Kremlin on behalf of the President.”

“You mean the President of Russia, I presume.”

“You presume correctly.”

“What is this about? I was kinda in the middle of going to space.”

“This, Mr. Fletcher, is a warning. You have told world leaders that they’re selfish to put their own interests above the interests of the population. But, I think this makes you hypocrite and I intend on proving it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“If this mission launches under the control of American company, like yours, instead of Russian, then I can assure you Fletch Dynamics will sink like Titanic. No survivors, Mr. Fletcher, you understand me?”

“You’ll tank my company? And how exactly would you do that?”

“Five of your major shareholders are Russian, Mr. Fletcher. You do know this? Three of them are currently residing in Russia. This means we can get to them. They will pull their investment in project, Mr. Fletcher. If Russia doesn’t lead human race out of darkness, then human race will remain in darkness.”

“You can’t do this.”

“I can, Mr. Fletcher. But is okay. You can stop me very easily. All you need to do is hand over control to Russia.”

“No way. I’ll never let that happen.”

“No? But you said it doesn’t matter who leads it as long as it is successful. You have done the heavy lifting, my friend. Operation will be successful, I promise. So why not hand over command?”

“Because… because it’s not right.”

“Oh, and so the truth comes out. You want to plant Fletch Dynamics flag just as much as I want to plant Russia flag. You are hypocrite. You are just like the rest of us.” I found myself in a stunned silence. I supposed he was right. “Well, looks like your decision is made. No one gets off this planet after all.” He hung up the phone.

I cancelled the launch and went back to my office. I slumped myself in my desk chair and shut out a disappointed Hayley and an incosolable Ernie. I had an important decision to make. I either hand the operation I had devoted my life to over to the Russians and save humanity, or I let humanity die just to avoid giving them the saisfaction. An easy choice, right? Of course the right thing to do was to was let them take over. I would still be remebered in the history books as the man who started it all. 'Fletch Dynamics walked so Russia's New Earth could run', thats what they'll say. I swallowed my pride and picked up the phone to call the Russian back and tell him my decision.

But, then, I came up with a new plan.

First step of my new plan was to put the phone down. Step two was to gather everyone who mattered, everyone who had contributed someway or another into this project and head off grid. We found our new base in rural England. It's sprawling green countryside acted as our new camp, unbeknownst to the spiteful woman sitting a few hundred miles away on Downing Street, supposedly leading the country. I infromed all of them that here we would work in secret. We would work tirelessly until we were able to send the first tweny-thousand people to New Earth. Then we'd send another twenty thousand. Then another and another until every citizen who Russia couldn't touch was off this planet. Then and only then we would hand over control to the Russian government, just so they can handle their own people's ascension.

That day did come, even thought there were plenty days filled with doubt before then, the day did come. The day we fired twenty-thousand English men, women and children off this planet never to return. I, sadly, was not on board with them. Instead I was sitting in an old abondoned barn with Hayley Hendrix and Ernie Barton.

"I can't wait to get up there," said Ernie, staring at the stary sky through a whole in the barns collapsed roof.

"You and me both, Ernie," I replied.

"And me," said Hayley. "Why aren't we on there with them, Fletch? Why aren't we the first?"

"Because that's not what's important. Those twenty thousand, nobody knows about them. They applied in secret and were launched off in seceret. But we've caused too much of a commotion up here now. The Prime Minister will know we've turned her countryside into a launchpad and who knows how she'll react. But then we'll send her a video or a photo from New Earth. She'll see that it worked. She'll see twenty-thousand of her own people living in a clean, safe environment and she'll know exaclty who to thank. Then we can go up and only then."

"We need to be down here to keep the peace," added Ernie.

"Exactly," I said with a nod.

A familiar sight then befell me . Nathan York running towards me with satellite phone in hand. "Let me guess," I said once Nathan was in the barn. "The Prime Minister?"

"Yeah," answered Nathan. "The Russian Prime Minister."

I snatched the phone from Nathan's hands. "Hello?"

"Hello, Mr. Fletch Dynamics," he chuckled slightly, or at least I think it was a chuckle. "I know what you did. Twenty-thousand people en route to a new beginning, huh? It's a beautiful night for it, don't you think? In fact why don't you look into the sky right now," the Russian Prime Minister chuckled to himself some more.

With a lump in my throat I looked to the sky. My eyes - before making it all the way to the stars - were distracted by a proud, barn owl perched on a wooden beam. It seemed to be looking right at me, or through me. It seemed to know how pivotal this moment was. How pivotal these few seconds were. Beyond the owl I saw the sky suddenly light up in flames. Huge black chunks entered the atmosphere and were hurdling down to Earth. "What have you done?"

"I've returned things to their natural order, Mr. Fletcher. We, the Russian people, have enough information and resources to carry out this project properly. The Russian way. You're services to humanity are no longer needed."

"You blasted them out of the sky. Twenty-thousand people. God, there were children on board."

"God had nothing to do with it, Mr. Fletcher. Now, like I said you're services are no longer needed."

"You're dooming your own people, you know that. Without me you'll mess it up, you won't get it right."

"In fact," he went on not listening to my pleas, "The services of every country who is not Mother Russia is no longer needed. We will build a better society without the disease that is the United States, without the plague that is the EU and without the tumour that is the UK. Goodbye, Mr. Fletcher. Goodbye, forever."

I didn't feel the blast. I'm happy to say my death was a painless one. I saw the light it created however, the purest, whitest light I'd ever seen. It was there in a second and gone in a second. My mind died slower than my body did. After the light was out there was still one last image, burned into my mind's eye. The owl. Staring down at me in judgment. Not just in judgment of me, but of all of us. How other species must see us. Watching us argue over who gets to plant a piece of fabric. Arguing over something so trvivial to the point of death. Willing to get each other killed for a bit of glory.

I suppose it's in human nature to want to be the one. We'd destroy everyone else to be the one to rule over the ashes.