Prologue

"Listen, there is a widely accepted ideology that time will heal all of your intricate wounds, wounds bound in the tightest silks of arrogance. And that is a material that clings stubbornly. It's a constant reminder providing reasons not to heal. People talk about it like time is some omnipotent figure that'll fix everything if you have patience. They also say that good things come to those who wait. I've waited nearly a hundred years, and here's what I've learned: nothing is fair in this vast and wondrous universe, and nothing is kind. It is just. But these people, it's almost like they don't gaze upon the sky, which provides their nutrients, their joy, a place heavily written about and sought for exploration under the guise of progress. But let's face it, space has only ever been enjoyed for its so-called future promises. A faulty promise of human survival, and either way you look at it, time is fleeting. We're even going to die at some point. It'll take longer, but we will return to the soil. You and I, we aren't immortal. Enjoyable instances of time might provide temporary relief, accompanied by memories and people, but it's essentially nothing, and it never lasts long enough. Listen, we have to explore the realistic options before the realm of materialistic incredulity or life will only get worse here and on earth. Or maybe all hope is lost. You can be the judge of that."