Per Ardua Ad Astra

The dying, silent embers of the brazier warded away the numbing chill of the rain’s malice, each drop rendered by the gentle glow of the flames parting the night. That rain was a serenade shared by despairing lost souls as it marred the decaying cobble walls and concrete towers of the city damp, echoing therapeutic sounds through every road and alley. Blurred streetlights caught rivers in the gutters of the cracked tar streets. This winter promised snow, it wouldn’t be long before the other vagabonds would drop like flies in the street succumbing to the unforgiving chill. Astra rubbed his gloved hands together as misty clouds rose from his mouth to meet the cold. His ragged, dust streaked coat barely kept him warm. The only real warmth came from the damp brown beanie, but even that was trivial. Tracks of rain divided his aged, hopeless face. Purple neon lights from the city barely pierced the night. But even in the dark, the Pillar of Ardua’s amber shone like a beacon, drawing the hopeful like moths to a flame. The tower was taller than the rest. It stared back with a knowing sympathetic glare. Launch was just three days away.

Where there are champions, the conquered bare their fists. Where there is light, shadows creep, raveling into dark twisted knots. None of them spoke; all of them stared hopefully into the abyss of the careless fading fire, waiting to know their salvation. Where had it gone? Their joy and peace; their city even. What had changed for this world to harvest such spite and injustice? Every night the distant crack of gunfire bounced off the cold city walls where tyrannic gangs fought for control. Those spared from the suffering through the prestige of the paper in their pockets cowered above in the city of the sky “Ash of Sol,” the glistening quartz gem floating above the decaying Earth we were left to rot in. With them, doctors, lawyers, enforcement, and the wealthy. The sky was gilded by stars mapping the endless black canvas above. Ash of Sol stood amongst them, a sanctuary barely visible in the night sky. It harbored perfection. We however, were too late. Our efforts to preserve Earth decades before only catalyzed our demise.

The bridge between the two worlds was yet to burn for the hopeful and pleading. Ardua was the path, the ship to the city in the sky. No one like Astra could afford to board it but that was their intention, a way of separating the good from the bad in a world with 16 billion people. This accursed rotting world held no prisoners, no love for life and hatred was born to govern it. Astra poked at the fleeting flames begging them to stay alive for the night. So many other hopeless wary eyes watched him from cardboard boxes and tarp tents. The alleyway was their sanctuary, none of them knew how long for. The rain’s serenade drifted off to a lullaby as Astra rested his eyes, sitting against the cold brick wall of the alley.

The early morning came with frost. The sun only highlighted the dilapidation and rising weeds that coated everything. Things looked better in the hopeless dark. Astra’s empty stomach pulled him off the ground.

“Listen man, I’m cold, real cold.” The voice was shaky and ragged. It came from the abandoned market square. “I got three jackets on, two sets of pants. Man, I need a fire. I mean, God damn, first snow is right next door. And now you’re telling me the food’s out?”

“Crumbs brother, nothing but crumbs. I think the city’s officially running dry,” called another man speaking amongst the rallied crowd, perched on a crate to address them. “It was only a matter of time. First snow is the least of our problems.”

Astra joined the crowd, wrapping himself in his cloak in defense of the hateful stabbing chills.

“And how do you expect us to take that Harry?” Another desperate voice from the crowd piped up. “With a god damned grin? Is this a joke to you?”

“You know full well this isn’t what I, or any of you want and you should know it’s not my fault!” His face was red, and tears welled in his sunken sad eyes. He blinked them away before anyone noticed. Crying wouldn’t make him stand out.

Silence held the crowd before finally Harry spoke again. “We could ask the miners for help?”

“Do you even realize what you’re saying?!” A chilling breeze was picking up as another voice piped in. It blew over large puddles coating the market square from the downpour last night. Without the mines there would be no connection between Earth and the Ash of Sol at all. Private sites were run throughout the whole planet to keep the city functioning. “They work for the rich.”

“What choice do we have?” The meaningless, cold wind shaking the rags and tarps across the market was all that could be heard. Time seemed to stop in the moment while the crowd came to terms with the inevitable journey. Slowly, the first of them turned to the road, followed by the others dragging their feet through the dust. None of them held hope but the question remained. What choice did they have?

Their stride was met by clueless others, stumbling from their cardboard covers just to march to what felt like their grave.

“How far?” Astra’s deep, rumbling voice trailed from under his breath as he reached for his neighbor’s shoulder.

“At least the full day. We’ll arrive at sundown.” The pack swaddled in their coats grew larger and larger as they stormed against the winds. Their march held a false promise for sanctuary, a way out of this hell.

The glowing reach of the sun that hugged the Earth, slowly packed its light away from the silhouettes of shadowed, arid mountains, casting shadows over the mining complex. The gates towered over them, casting its own shadow across the crowd grown to hundreds of hungry, desperate, and staggering men, women, and children. They stood by the gate and waited.

“This is a restricted area. Turn around immediately.” The heartless voice boomed from a speaker.

“We’re hungry. There’s nothing left, please, you must have something.” Harry’s voice came from the front.

“Go home scum.”

“We don’t have a home.”

After a few seconds of silence, the concrete gates swung open, signified by the blaring alarm to announce their movement. The sound of the doors jarring, echoed off the walls of the valley. In their place, armed guards stood at ease, monitoring the crowd.

“We won’t tell you again. This is your last chance.”

With a matter of near no hesitation, the vagabonds stormed the complex like starved animals released from their cage. The relaxed guards didn’t have time to react to the hordes uprising. By the time they lifted their guns, the hungry were upon them like wolves, paving the way for others. An alarm far louder than the last roared through the mines. Astra followed a path of rubble gilding the Eastern fence of the entrance, ducking and weaving for protection. He could already hear the gunfire ricochet off the walls. The crowd was led by powerful, triumphant screams. Salvation was within their grasp. Already, storage facilities were being breached and stormed. Fights were breaking out over the goods and important members of the complex were already being evacuated in luxury crafts from the rooftops. Astra could feel the adrenaline coursing through his body. He made his way to the end of the rubble and pushed through into an office furthest from the conflict.

From inside, the cries of victory and the call of gunfire were muffled. There were no windows, but the interior was furnished just like a study. Desks were streaked with coffee stains and the rug was matted and dirty. Next to one of the computers was a thin, black elastic bound notebook, collecting dust on the table. Astra flipped the worn pages to a drafted letter, yet to be signed off.

‘Hey Michael, I understand you’re on Earth purely for the sake of investigating efficiency at the second sector mining complex, where I’m based. I wanted to let you know I have a briefcase here with your ticket home in it! Just don’t forget about the sec-‘

Must have stopped writing when we arrived. Astra’s head was swimming. He knew it wouldn’t be long before trouble found him here; he had to leave. But a ticket to the stars?

After turning chairs and moving desks, he found the black briefcase stored in a locker.

Twenty thousand dollars. The baseline cost to the stars, bundled neatly in rows. Twenty thousand whole dollars, and it was all his.

The ambient, soulless night saw first snow, coating the streets and buildings. All that could be heard was the crunch of it under Astra’s worn boots. The unforgiving chill had come. The rocket ship Ardua, stood proud in the city’s morbid center, preparing its launch. Finally, he could open the eyes of the decadent rich to those in need, he could live in peace, knowing his next meal would be warm and filled with flavor. Astra had been walking for days, staggering through the wasteland of Earth only to finally leave this life behind.

Finally, Ardua stared at him, face to face. Only the snow traversed the shallowing gap between them as Astra marched.

Through all adversity, to the stars, for the first time in years, his head and heart were filled with hope. The world wouldn’t mourn his departure. The ticket bay was inside the ship, that’s where he would show them the briefcase.

The entrance would seal off after launch to keep the people safe. Inside, the glorious pillar was adorned with white metals. It was like the gateway to heaven.

“I’m sorry sir, you’ll have to leave. You can’t stay here unless you’re buying a ticket.” The ticket vendor spoke in an assertive tone and pointed to the exit.

Astra opened his briefcase on the counter for him to see. The money shined like pure gold, promising his salvation. After a moment, the vendor grinned, then laughed at the ridiculous pile of money.

“Where did you find all that?” He said, counting the dollars as he spoke.

“Just keep counting, I want to get out of here.”

“You know, they’ve got a special place for people like you up there.”

“Sure, sure. Money, riches, and the rest. Just get me on your ship.”

“Of course, sir.”

The hum of the whirring engine filled the silence. Everyone else was upstairs, waiting to be taken home.

“Wonderful, I hope you enjoy your trip. Here’s your ticket, please stay seated in your room we leave in five minutes.”

The pristine white elevator opened to the most glorious room Astra had ever seen. Every detail was a brilliant, pure white. Magnificently long hanging plants adorned the rims of the wall next to Ash of Sol’s flag standing as a banister by the desk and chair. The bed was like nothing he had ever felt.

Everything shook violently as the Pillar of Adura left its platform, reaching beyond the sky and into the never ending blackness to compete with the sea of stars. Astra rested his eyes, thinking of the cold brick wall of the alley, and the pure bliss life had delivered.

It was resplendent. The floating city caught the light of every star along the mix of green plant life and tall, gleaming white buildings where Adura stood in the center. The dust was whipped from his feet as he left the ship. It was here in his pure awe, he saw, the price of entry and the gate that separated the dirty docking bay from the white he would never reach. He needed another twenty-thousand dollars.