The Pelin Journal

Day 1

I found this little black book in a bag that was shoved under the bed in a room they had never allowed me in. I don’t think the person who left it behind would mind me using it; they have no use for it now, anyway. Not sure where to begin. Never thought about writing things down before. Journaling is what they used to call it. Who would have guessed I’d start!

So much has happened over the years. Earth looks nothing like the luscious planet it was in the early 2020s. Sure, they suffered from the big pandemic, but that was small-fry compared to the big bang of 2051. People and their greed. Ruined everyone else’s chance.

Being born in space, never having set foot on solid ground, with nothing else than a hunk of floating metal to call your home; doubt many would have survived. Few have.

Our group is the last to move. The ship that’s been my home for the last 25 years is failing so we’re being moved to another “upgraded” one and by upgraded they mean one that isn’t falling apart as much.

There are ten of us left, we’re scavenging what we can from the remnants of the passed ones. The ones that didn’t last long enough to move. Member PL5447.

P for Pelin, the name of the ship we’re on, L for Lower Deck and 5447 for the room number. That’s all we call one another, a few letters and numbers. My grandfather had a name once before he moved my father on to this ship. I was never told what it was, I only knew him as PL5447.

Let’s see how long I can keep this up for, I’ll try to write once every few days. It seems to help me a little.

Signing off.

Day 9

Sorry!

I forgot where I put this thing and then have been busy clearing the last of the rooms from Lower Deck. Only one more to get done tomorrow, the one where I found this book. They have whittled us down to three; I found out last night I would be the last person to leave this god-forsaken vessel.

I won’t wave goodbye when I leave, just turn off the lights and run as fast as I can to the Exit. I feel as though this place has taken everything from me. My family, my future, my life. I’ll never know early morning birdsong, only that which is pumped through the speaker system to alert those aboard that it’s morning. Morning! Where exactly?

I hate it here. I HATE IT!

The recycled air, it clings to my clothes and makes them stale. I can’t stand it anymore! I could just open the outlets. No air, then. Nothing but open space. Darkness. Utter darkness. No sunset or sunrise. No rustle of autumn leaves. No clear, frosty mornings.

I don’t even know what any of those feel like, I’ve only read about them in history books! What’s the point of this life? PL5447 had the right idea. End it all on one go. They said he didn’t but I know he left me here alone. After my father died, he just stopped caring. Couldn’t even look me in the eye; reminded him too much of his son.

I can’t anymore,

Day 11

I had given up writing in this thing. It was his, after all. I just can’t seem to throw it away. I like how it reflects the past, how things used to be before it all went bad. The feel of the cover provides me with comfort. Knowing that my grandfather touched it before me somehow brings us closer together.

Nearly at the end now, only his bunk to do. We have to strip everything down, log it, and then salvage what we can for the next ship. This place is barren. Feels less like home than it did before.

Last push and I’ll be out of here in a few days.

Signing off.

Day 12

Strange day. Found something at the back of my grandfather’s bunk, a single page. Looks like it was out of this book, but there are no pages missing. Another book, maybe? More tomorrow.

Day 13

I’ve pushed back my leaving, said there was a problem with the bunk. There wasn’t. I need more time.

I was always told that when they left Earth, no one had the time to bring anything with them. That wasn’t true. People were told they couldn’t bring anything with them!

Contamination apparently, although my grandfather always thought it was because they didn’t want any of the younger generations to know the accurate history of living on Earth. I never believed him. He believed it, though. I think he’s left me something.

When I was young, we used to play a game. Codes, always leading somewhere, usually to another code, a treat at the end. Like a treasure map. He used it to keep me from missing my father.

The page I found has several dots and lines on it, all unconnected, unless it’s folded a certain way! It spells out another room number–my old room number! Empty now apart from a small metal box I found hidden in the air-duct. How he ever got it in there without tools, a ladder, or anyone knowing is beyond me! It was there though, holding another clue.

I’ve only got another 48 hours, they won’t wait any longer. Everything else is ready, I’ll spend all of tomorrow on this. I have to find where this leads.

Day 14

I’ve spent nearly all day going from one clue to the next. I can’t keep it up. I’m exhausted and still no closer to knowing what he left for me, or even if he left anything. Damn him! There were so many times we could have spoken to each other, made more of an effort. What was his problem? I’m just going to pack up the rest of my stuff and leave tomorrow as planned. The old fool, playing with me until the very end!

I won’t keep this writing up, there’s no point. I’ll keep the book, might give it to one of the other children on the ship. They would have more use for is that I would. Anyway, last day tomorrow.

Signing off for the ultimate time.

The dream woke me! It was of my Grandfather and I in a garden; I was climbing a tree; I think? I’m sure I based it on a story he told me once about my father when they lived on a small farm. He always climbed to the treetops, he used to tell my Grandfather it made him feel like he was flying with the birds. We’ve seen nothing like it on the ships, but I’m certain my Grandfather used to visit the library to look at the old books. I’m going there now. Last hope.

Day 77

A lot has changed since I last wrote in my Grandfather’s little black book, I’ve changed. He left me something, well 20,000 something’s in fact. 20,000 dollars, old Earth money, so coveted in the new age he catapulted me to the top of the newest and wealthiest ship.

The way we live now, it must be different, they have given me the opportunity to make that difference. For that, I am truly grateful.

My regret is that I never spent the time with my Grandfather that I owed him. I can never get that back. I will always have a piece of him with me, this book for one, I will continue to write in it and leave it for my children and grandchildren, like the one he left for me with the money.

My family struggled with the unknown world they found themselves in, and I can understand why. We’ve become too quick to judge others based on their circumstances, whilst we use them as springboards to advance our own wealth.

Taking the time over the last month has afforded me the understanding to appreciate the calmness of writing things down. Recording my history, my turmoil, my challenge, to guide others after I am gone.

I finally feel close to my ancestors and what they stood for, as I know my children will with me.

I named myself after my father and father’s father. My name is Jonah.