TETHER

" . . .is this the last extinction?

heavy the hopes of rebirth,

it is the beasts who bear it

– the sins of humanity –

visited upon so gracious a host.

the pyre bed dwindles as

the last of its kindling rages,

reaching frantically towards a heaven filled with soot. . . "

Geo Embar - The Lives of the Lost Species

The chip in my wrist blinked twice, the light sharp red, I must have missed it earlier. Leaving home, I walked the short mile to the Screen. As expected, a long line was already forming down the center of Main Street. Growing up, my grandfather had told me stories of when the streets had been lined with lamps and large metal arms at the busy intersections. They held red, yellow, and green orbs telling cars when to stop and when to go. Personal vehicles are no longer allowed, the streets are largely unutilized save for the dedicated bus routes and the occasional medical drone. For the most part, they are now oversized sidewalks. Children take over stretches here and there for their various games and some residents carve out patches each honorary spring– asphalt extensions of their dirt lawns. Several streets have been built over, replaced with endless chains of towering Home Spires in the larger cities. Here we have only one tower, anchored at the end of town, reaching high into the sky far above the sawtooth peaks of the Absaroka mountains beyond.

. . .

Around the world, three hundred million people have been moved inland from the coastal cities as they slowly sink, with over three hundred million more waiting for relocation. Losing acreage dedicated to agriculture in the inland regions was untenable. Only existing land not used for food production could be developed for the displacement housing. As such, every dwelling unit is packed with as many people as it can hold. New, slender towers are under continuous construction, reaching higher and higher into the atmosphere to save space. The more they build and the higher they climb, the closer we get to burning through the very last resources this planet has to offer.

. . .

The line slowly but surely shortened ahead of me. Two hours must have passed, and it was finally my turn to use the Screen. I entered my sim-link and touched on the unread communiqué I had been anticipating for months. Thin white letters emerged, flickering faintly.

Welcome to TETHER. Please answer the following accurately and completely.

The cursor blinked at me impatiently, almost in time with the woman’s foot behind me in the line.

Full Name: Geo Toren Embar-Adeni . . .

Sex: Male . . .

Age: 36 Earth Years . . .

Earth Address: 11 Sunset Dr. - Livingston MT Region, 59047-W77, Inland Zone West . . .

Household - Name, Relation, Contact: Edion Embar-Adeni, Husband, sim-link ID *7-110178 . . . Tuor Embar-Adeni, Son, sim-link N/A . . . Laras Embar-Adeni, Daughter, sim-link N/A . . .

. . .

I applied to the TETHER program four years ago. This year, I was accepted surprisingly quickly. Most applicants wait an average of 4-6 years for a ‘consideration’ response and another 2 to 3 for a formal acceptance or denial. I have a feeling the speed of my confirmation is related to my occupation category - Non-Essential, Tier 12.

About fifty years ago, the Word Resource Reserve, WRR, officially classified Earth’s precious minerals and metals as ‘depleted’, something most had known for years. What was left was deep below the surface, too costly to obtain, both in monetary expense and harmful emissions. It took a while for them to make it to our relatively small town, but when they did, a couple of decades before I was born, they collected everyone’s cars, all the streetlamps and traffic lights, stop signs and mailboxes, railroad tracks and bridges, chain link fences and stadium bleachers. Anything metal not in critical use was collected and melted down for construction of the Home Spires.

. . .

Having filled in my information, the Screen faded back to black. The ghostly letters returning haltingly:

Thank you. Your information has been verified. A transport will pick you up from your dwelling unit and deliver you to Space Terminal IZW 10 in three weeks’ time.

. . .

The evacuation to Mars is not going well. Setback after setback have slowed the migration to a trickle. The primarily subterranean colonies are not being built quickly enough to stem the strain back home. Mars faces the same difficulties obtaining materials and cannot rely on Earth to make up the deficit. The TETHER initiative proposed to send hundreds of teams to the asteroid belt to mine and refine materials for Mars. Only one member per household is allowed to apply in order to prevent the program from becoming a chance to flee Earth and remain a mission to save it.

. . .

Tour wouldn’t meet my eyes before I left. I could see the hurt and anger knotted in his shoulders, already broad and strong like Edion’s. How do you tell your children you are leaving, and will be gone for the rest of their childhood? Laras was too young to fully understand. She would sit on my lap with her cereal pouch drawings and ask every day, “So when are you coming back Daddy?” I would smile, combing the constant tangles from her hair, “You’ll be all grown up, a worlds famous artist! And still so young for such success!”

“But Dad says artist isn’t a thing anymore.”

“Well Dad is right, but sometimes you can’t avoid being what you are… you’ll have to be a mad scientist who paints I guess.”

At this she would always giggle and say, “there’s no such thing!”

. . .

I am at the station currently, in orbit, awaiting my space living certification pending 6 months of monitoring and positive health readings. On Earth I was a writer. I suppose I still am, but I haven’t written anything, save this documentation of my departure, in a long time. I always felt guilty for being an author. The world didn’t need more words, it needed food, heat, clean water and air. My husband always stops me when I say such things. He says my words give him hope and help preserve the memory of the world as it was generations before us. I come from a long line of storytellers, passing down our memories of memories. He has always supported me in that tradition, filling in gaps with histories of his own.

If they have accomplished anything, my writings, they found Edion. He had read all my works and was a particular fan of my fantastical fiction detailing long forgotten flora and fauna in The Lives of the Lost Species. He sim-linked an audio recording decoding the meaning of a poem I had penned for the novel's intro. His interpretation was so different from my intention and unwaveringly optimistic, that I was immediately enchanted. I replied to his notes and our correspondence turned into a beautiful friendship, relationship, marriage, and it was his faith in the future that changed my mind on starting a family.

It is to him that the raising of our two children is left. When I told him I was applying for the TETHER initiative, it was the closest to tears I’ve ever seen him, nearly crushing my resolve.

He regained himself swiftly and held my gaze, “Geo, I told you when we first met that I wanted only to make your life better. Complete. I wish you could stay, but I understand you are trying to save everything we have built together... because you believe in tomorrow… and I’m proud of you.”

It was I who lost my composure. Between violent sobs and shaking, I managed, “You have brought me more happiness than I ever thought possible in this dying world. I have to go, so Tuor and Laras can have a chance at finding the same happiness someday…” I collapsed into his arms, the gravity of my choice finally starting to sink in. That embrace was a brief eternity, the entirety of our feelings for each other known without words. Pulling apart, he placed something small and smooth into my hand. It looked like two small rocks bound together with braided grass, vaguely resembling a little lopsided heart.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Laras made it for you, I added a data chip with vid sims of us all, you should be able to throw them onto any Screen. They used to be made of metal and hinge on one side, lockets, I think they were called. My grandmother had one, before she sold all our remaining metals for melt. They guard a piece of your heart.”

“It’s perfect," I whisper through soft tears, "thank her for me when she wakes up… tell them I love them.”

We stayed up the rest of the night, allowing ourselves to dream about somehow all leaving together– a family road trip across the stars and all the wonders we would witness. But it was impossible, Tuor, 11, and Laras, 5, have roots on Earth. Cousins, friends, school…. air, sun, and sky… as polluted as it is, they have never known better– space is no place for a childhood to unfold, not yet. Edion knew this. His work for the WRR is too important, they would never let him go. He is a scientist, Essential - Tier 1. If all goes well, I will see them again in ten years on Mars. Ten Years. . .

. . .

I find it quite poetic, that at the dusk of our civilization, as our Rome crumbles around us, it is to the Belt we turn our gaze in final desperation. The very heavenly bodies thought to have brought life to our planet all those billions of years ago. As I wait at the spaceport, I am overwhelmed by the Screens… eight hours each day viewing instruction on how to operate the asteroid mining machinery, twenty minutes each evening to sim-link my family, and an hour each week to configure the TETHER pod I will be living in for the next decade. . . our last lifeline.