Whenever I think about the Earth, a pang of sadness hits me. I imagine the sprawling forests that once blanketed continents, the rivers that ran like veins through our lands, the sunsets that painted skies with fiery hues. But the year is 2070, and all those memories have been reduced to faint echoes of a time that might as well belong to another planet.
It all started unraveling in 2055. Toxic waste seeped into every water source, choking marine life and leaving humanity gasping for air—literally. Pollution had already painted our skies grey, but this? This was the death knell. Then came the wars—fought over dwindling resources, leaving scars on an already wounded planet. Failed revolutions only deepened the fractures, and poverty clung to us like a second skin. Everything humanity had taken for granted—the air we breathed, the food we grew, the water we drank—turned against us with a vengeance.
The Earth didn't just get sick; it got angry. Violent climate changes swept across the globe, drowning some lands and scorching others. The animals that once graced our ecosystems either perished or mutated into monstrous predators. Those who survived retreated into fortified domes, the "secured cities." Life inside wasn't exactly paradise. The population was but a fraction of what it once was, and their diet? A dreary concoction of processed paste called Gronkels—nutritious, sure, but utterly devoid of joy.
It was amidst this chaos that I found myself tasked with humanity's most desperate mission: to find a new home. My name is Abdel Al Rahman, though my team just calls me Abdel. Our group—awkwardly named The Awesome Space Knowledge Seekers, or T.A.S.K.S.—was assembled to explore our solar system for even the faintest glimmer of hope.
"Why the solar system?" you might ask. "Hasn't science already ruled it out for colonization?" True, the textbooks you'd dust off in some forgotten library would tell you no planet in this system is suitable for human life. But that was before humanity's desperation birthed incredible technological advances. Now, we're armed with tools and knowledge that can test the impossible.
Right now, I'm aboard the Nova Adventurer, our state-of-the-art spacecraft, sitting in the ship's rest lounge with my team. The autopilot hums softly as it takes us to Mercury—our first stop. Around me are the people who have trained alongside me, endured the same grueling preparations, and now share the weight of this monumental journey.
First, there's Jessica—though we all call her Jessy. At 17, she's a whirlwind of intellect and determination. With her sharp black eyes and athletic build, she's the kind of person you trust immediately. Jessy is our medic, but her role goes beyond patching us up. She's the one who keeps the morale high when the weight of our mission feels like it might crush us. If you catch her off guard, you might notice her gaze drifting toward Harry, but she's far too professional to let her feelings get in the way.
Ah, Harry. At 20, he's the oldest among us, and the one you'd want beside you in a fight. With his towering frame—he insists he's over two meters, though the ship's measurements say otherwise—Harry is a walking arsenal. He's a master of Reko-Wanda, a martial art developed in 2049, and holds the highest rank: the coveted purple rope. Give him a pile of scrap, and he'll whip up a weapon that could rival anything on Earth. Beneath that tough exterior, though, is a man who's deeply in love with Jessy—not that he'd admit it out loud.
Then there's Angelia, our tech genius. At just 16, she's the youngest member of the team, but don't let her age fool you. Her nimble hands and sharp mind keep the ship running smoothly. Whether it's hacking into a stubborn system or fine-tuning our field tools, Angelia's got it covered. She's a bit shy, especially around me, and while I try to pretend not to notice her quiet admiration, it's clear to everyone.
Her older brother Adam is the odd one out—or so he claims. At 17, Adam's specialty is alien life forms, a subject that feels laughably irrelevant in a solar system seemingly devoid of them. But General Paul insisted we bring him along, and honestly, Adam's easygoing nature adds a certain calmness to the group. He and Angelia don't act like siblings; they're more like colleagues who just happen to share the same DNA.
And then there's me. I'm 19, Arabian, and trained to be a jack-of-all-trades. I can handle a weapon, analyze a terrain, even pilot a ship in a pinch. My role as the leader isn't just about skills, though—it's about holding this team together. I know we come from different cultures, different walks of life, but here, among the stars, we're a family.
The ship's intercom crackles, breaking my thoughts. The monotone voice of the autopilot announces, "Approaching Mercury. Arrival in 12 minutes."
My heart quickens. This is it—the beginning of our journey into the unknown. I glance around at my team, their faces a mix of determination and apprehension.
"All right, everyone," I say, standing up. "Gear up. Whatever we find down there, remember: we're here to explore, not conquer. Let's give humanity a reason to hope again."
As I strap on my gear, I can't help but wonder what Mercury will reveal. A barren wasteland? A hidden oasis? Or perhaps something we could never predict?
Whatever challenges lie ahead, we will face them head-on—for the survival of humanity depends on it.