A electronic blue light flashed in an otherwise black room.

Light was sealed out, creating the perfect sleeping environment.

However, I hadn't been asleep for the last three hours, despite my best intentions. Restlessness had gotten a hold of me now.

"Lights on," I sighed, sitting up. The room slowly illuminated, the ever-conscious AI system trying to be considerate as it woke me.

There was a time when one person could have a thousand square feet of space, all to themselves. The history books were full of architectural diagrams explaining apartments, house, and mansions. 

I had 70 square feet to my name. I had a desk, bed, and dresser to call my own.

It was the same 70 square feet, desk, bed, and dresser that all of ST-241's passengers had.

"Good morning, Eleanora," a voice sang out. "It is currently seven-oh-five am and the date is June 9th, 2114 according to Universal Standard Time. . ."

I kicked the covers off; it was particularly hot today.

". . .On your schedule today, you have Second Millennium History, followed by lunch with James Austin, and finally Modern Literature. . ."

I sat up, stretching out. My fingers brushed the steel walls.

". . .Shall I play some music while you get ready?"

The ship's computer asked the same question every morning.

"No," I said.

It hesitated at my answer that diverged from my typical response.

"Enjoy your day Eleanora," it commanded.

"No," I whispered.

............

Professor Donovan was a genius trapped in the body of an incapable lecturer.

I hated his class. If it wasn't required, I would've dropped it as soon as I put together that he was a hopeless old man.

Granted, I did have high hopes. His paper on nationalism in the 20th century in Latin American had been an interesting read. But his class was not. Staying awake was a struggle, especially after last night's insomnia.

A message scrolled across my tablet halfway through the class, covering up the bottom half of my notes that were vague at best.

James Austin- Morning gorgeous

Teachers couldn't control what we did on our devices during class. It was an unfortunate dysfunction of the system.

The older I got, the more of those I found.

Eleanora Monroe- Good morning.

I looked back up at Professor Donovan. He was writing a timeline on the board, taking his sweet time with perfecting the loops and lines of his cursive.

James Austin- Whatcha up to?

Eleanora Monroe- Donovan's

James Austin- Regretting that history major yet?

Eleanora Monroe- Where are you taking me to lunch?

James Austin- I'll pick you up from class

That didn't warrant a response. I sat back in my chair, watching the blue light next to the speaker in the wall blink steadily.

.............

He was leaning against the wall of the hallway when I finally exited the classroom.

James Austin was the best thing ST-241 had ever given me.

My life had been laid out for me by a series of algorithms whose primary goals were not my happiness but rather my productiveness.

James was the exception to that rule. He was one of the least irritating people I had found. He was a cynical genius; already graduated from university and working as the ship's engineering captain. He wasn't the most handsome of my fellow twenty year olds but he was certainly the most desirable. It was common knowledge that James would eventually be the ship's captain. Being the ship's wife was a comfortable life. I would have more than 70 square feet.

His sharp mind gave him a sharp personality. It was borderline sociopathic. He could be sweet and endearing one moment and terribly harsh the next. I thought he was scariest when he managed to do both at the same time.

We'd been matched two months ago.

At eighteen, you declared a major; the ship's way of ensuring you studied something you were interested in and eventually worked in something you were passionate about. In between your sophomore and junior years of university, you were matched to the most suitable mate. After university, a job was chosen for you. Then you could choose to marry your mate or not. If I chose to get married, my 70 square feet would become 200. If we had children, we'd get 50 additional square feet for each little rascal that we added to the ship's population. 

Life was compact on board ST-241.

Comfort became condensed; movies, books, and songs were shorter.

Choices were made for you so you didn't waste time thinking about love and the pursuit of happiness.

We were given our little space and told to stay.

I craved the life within my history textbook- the time when life was full of inexplicable wonders, life-altering decisions, and traumatic events that changed the course of history. I would gratefully take the pain that the teachers said resulted from such arduous choices because at least it would be a choice.

I was stagnant here, just like six generations before me had been.

And I hated it.

"Why do you look so grouchy?" James asked.

"I didn't get much sleep," I said, stepping out of my classmates' way.

His face contorted into a question but he didn't ask it.

"So lunch?" I asked, sticking my hands in my pockets.

"Nice topic change," James said, still suspicious.

I needed to smile if I wanted him to move on but I couldn't.

"Okay, lunch," James agreed when the awkward silence continued. "How do you feel about Italian?"

"I feel pretty good about Italian," I said.

A good plate of spaghetti was what I needed.

I laughed at myself.

Yet another lie I told myself to stay complacent.

...........

"So how are you?" James asked. "It's been awhile."

"A month," I offered.

"Well, it was a very educational month."

"As long as you learned something," I said, poking at a stray meatball.

The waitress returned and James handed her his card. She disappeared again.

James watched me intensely.

There was a reason I wasn't an theater student: I couldn't lie to save my life.

His stares and my discomfort continued until the waitress returned with his card.

"Follow me," James ordered.

I stood as James weaved through the restaurant. I begrudgingly followed in his footsteps.

I eventually caught up with him as we stepped out into the atrium. It was the largest open space on the ship. The edges of the massive circular arena were lined with shops. Hallways branched off and led to living and working quarters.

It also made it the busiest place.

James grabbed my hand, weaving me through the crowds. He walked with his shoulder first, pulling us through faster. He was in a rush.

Rush to get where? We weren't going anywhere.

This place wasn't going anywhere. Just hurdling through space to a destination that was classified.

James didn't slow his pace until we were in his living quarters. The captains' wing were more like suites.

But I think in this moment, privacy was what he really wanted.

The captains' quarters were some of the few places without cameras.

He swiped his passcard and the door clicked open. James pulled me inside, shutting the door.

"Do you want to tell me what's really going on?" he asked.

It was the first time I'd ever been in his room so I gave myself a minute to get used to my surroundings. It looked just like mine just a little better and with a couch and little kitchenette.

"I've realized my life is meaningless," I said. James fell back onto the couch with a heavy sigh.

"What do you mean?" he asked, through tight lips.

"I feel trapped," I said. "I live in 7 by 10 box for half the day. I spend the other half of my day learning about a world that's more amazing this but has ceased to exist. Just a hundred years ago, James, people had a world to explore. They could see temples, explore different cultures, or choose to wear purple socks or blue socks. I want those choices and those opportunities!"

"You're upset about the color of your socks?"

"No!" I shouted. "I upset because I don't have a choice. My life is planned for me and I hate it."

"Might I point out I am a result of that planning?"

Was he really offended? Or was he trying to process my grievance?

Why couldn't he see how screwed up the system was?

It was silent.

"I understand," he said. "I used to think that too."

"Now you don't?" I asked.

"Are you busy tonight?" he asked.

"No," I said.

"I'll pick you up from your room around eight," he said. "I have to show you something."

James stood up, crossing the short distance to me.

I looked at my feet.

Why did I suddenly feel ashamed for admitting my thoughts?

James had the power to make me feel small. Everyone we truly admire does. They can build us up and tear us down with just a few words.

But he didn't even have to speak. He could just look at me. I needed his approval— I craved it.

Maybe that was what love was.

He caught my chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting it up.

His caramel eyes examined me.

"You shouldn't get upset over things you can't control," he said. "The past is so unfortunately the past. We're here now. It's a fact of our lives that we must face."

"I hate it," I said, squirming slightly beneath his gaze.

"I do too. But life goes on," he said.

I didn't feel a thing when he kissed me.

...........

"--the live opening of the Future Library from ST-410, which was originally from Oslo, Norway. When we evacuated, the library was taken with them and the tradition of locking a book every year continued. Today, we'll be watching the opening of the Library."

The professor powered on the screen. A ceremonial stage had been set up within the library.

All Star Transporters looked the same. The numbers corresponded to a major city.

Our ST had been based in Sarasota, Florida. There was no one currently aboard the remembered the city but we had plenty of pictures of beaches to give us an idea. My grandmother used to tell me that for the first month, the floors were covered in sand.

It was a nice idea but I doubted it.

The STs were too clean.

The sound clicked on in the middle of a speech.

"-and behind us is the glass case that has sealed away a hundred years of literature," a little old woman was saying. Her wrinkled face squeezed together into a smile. She turned around and stuck a key in a lock. The door opened a little on it's hinges and she pulled it completely open to a round of applause from the crowd.

She reached up on her toes to pull the first book on the top shelf down.

"First," her voice sang, "'Scribbler Moon' by Ms. Margaret Atwood."

She handed the book off to a man on the stage.

Would we ever be able to read these books? Or would they just be locked back into the cage? That would be horribly unfortunate. . .

My professor watched the screen with rapt attention.

I tried to match her enthusiasm but failed.

The idea that these books had been written in a completely different world in a different time- well, it made me feel even nostalgic for a time and place I had never experienced.

The lady on the screen continued pulling books down, announcing their titles, and handing them off.

This continued for an hour until the broadcast ended and the professor returned to her podium to lecture to a half-asleep crowd.

"The books will scanned into the Universal Electronic Library within the next 24 hours. For next week, I'd like you to read one of the books and give me a full analysis of the literary value."

At least I'd get to read them.

............

"Where are we going now?"

James was guiding me through a part of the ship I'd never been in. The halls were deserted and doors were becoming more and more scarce.

"Captains' lounge," James said.

"Are you sure I'm allowed in there?" I asked.

James looked back at me like it was obvious but he didn't respond.

We reached the end of the hall and he swiped his passcard.

He pulled me into a room that smelled rich and a bit like the dirt in the greenhouses.

I loved it.

The room was dimmer than the hall lights had been, creating an ambiance of sophistication and warmth.

Inside, it was my idea of a lounge. Two of the walls were lined with bookshelves and artifacts.

"This is where we keep some of the more valuable items on the ship," James said, his voice a whisper.

Various captains sat in plush chairs, watching a screen on the far wall. They held crystal glasses in their hands, filled with a little bit of amber liquid. Some were sipping it. Others held the glass with a firm grip, watching the screen with the same attentiveness as my professor and the opening of the Future Library.

On the screen was the earth.

Just a sphere of blue, green, and white.

"What's going on?" I asked.

James guided me to a corner so we'd be out of the walkway.

"This is a live stream from ST-993, which was the last Star Transporter to leave earth about 49 years ago."

"So you watch the earth in your free time?"

"Not usually," James said. "Pollution on the earth has pretty much decimated the atmosphere. If you imagine the atmosphere like an egg, right now it's cracked. But the shell is about to shatter."

"Then what?" I asked.

"With no atmosphere, there's no air. Half the world is going to freeze and the other half will burn up, depending on whether or not they're facing the sun."

"I thought that wasn't supposed to happen for another two hundred years," I said.

James shook his head solemnly.

"There are still people on Earth."

"It was a lie told to reduce panic," James said. "Star Transporter production stopped with ST-993."

"They're all going to die," I said.

There was nothing for us to do now.

James wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me closer. I needed the support.

We were about to watch the genocide of the majority of the human race.

............

My fingers grabbed the front of James' shirt, clenching the fabric.

"You don't have to watch," James said.

"I have to though."

I had to say goodbye.

I had fallen in love with the Earth. I wouldn't be a cruel lover either.

I'd watch it go.

I'd say goodbye Venice, New York City, billboards, monuments, cemeteries, mansions, white picket fences, the factories and plants that got us into the environmental crisis in the first place. I'd watch her go.

"A solar flare is going to hit the Earth; the final blow," James said.

"How long?"

"Two minutes," James said.

3 billion people were left on the earth.

3 billion people had two minutes left to live.

And they probably had no idea.

"You're not content here," James said. "I understand that. But life there will cease to exist. Some day, we will rebuild the earth- reincarnating it. We'll rebuild the monuments and erect new ones. 'In morte illic pulchra est.' Do you know what that means?"

"No." My eyes were fixed on the globe.

"'In death there is beauty.'"

I tried to let it sink in; to understand his words.

A voice crackled into clarity.

"In five- four- three- two-"

His counting must have been off.

There was a sound, like the rushing of air or wind. Barely audible beneath that sound was a cracking.

Then the blue of the earth started to fade into a brown. The green made the same transition, just taking longer.

"There will be a second wave of solar flares in six- five- four- three- two-one-"

The brown became a fiery red.

The earth was on fire, blazing in scarlet death.

"The earth will continue to burn for quite some time."

The transmission disconnected and the screen went back.

Most of the captains seemed to down their drinks at the same time.

Like a toast to the fire.

........

James left me outside my room with the tingling of a fresh kiss on my lips and the Latin phrase running through my mind.

I opened my door and got ready for bed.

I took my time with movements.

I was in no rush.

Life here would continue on even with the passing of the earth.

I climbed up into bed, staring at my steel walls and standard living quarters.

"Open window," I commanded as I fumbled for my tablet.

The steel wall slid open, revealing a black universe, studded with white stars and swirling distant galaxies.

80 light years away was a tiny planet, orbiting around a medium-sized star.

A planet that was once green and blue was now dead and devoid, burning in the emptiness of space.

With a few swipes and taps, I opened the Universal Electronic Library application.

An ad for the recently added occupants of the Future Library appeared.

I opened it and the first book that appeared was the oldest book in the collection.

Scribbler's Moon

I may not have had the earth.

But I had Star Transporters, James, the hope of creating a new future on some other planet, and a hundred books that had never been read by anyone ever before.

And that was beautiful too.