Dawn
by Nic (stardestiny@bigfoot.com)
1 January 2000
Note: A Millennium ficlet, just because. :)
DAWN
Dawn. Earth rotated, ever so slowly, and as it did so the sun
seemed to emerge from behind, sedately, majestically, its light
reflecting from the planet to the stations above.
Ella Danziger smiled, her hand reaching for someone who wasn't
there anymore, momentarily lost in the memories. She'd watched a
thousand dawns in the past, she hoped to watch many more in the
future, but there was something about this dawn that made it very
special.
It was the turn of the century. Welcome to 2300. There had been
parties and fireworks all night; those on the space stations
celebrated midnight at the same moment, while those on Earth had
their own subdued celebrations as Earth's rotation dictated. Ella
had watched the planet below for the past few hours, searching for
signs of life, of hope, but no celebrations were vibrant enough to
reach the eyes of those beyond.
It was a sobering reminder of how far Earth had fallen in a few
mere centuries. Ella had been fascinated by history her whole life
and now, she laughed to herself with resignation, she was old
enough to be history. She remembered so many New Year's
celebrations upon the space stations.
Yet none were like those of the past. In the archives there was
footage of the 2000 celebrations, when almost every nation on Earth
had commemorated the new millennium. It had been a party like no
other, something that sang of harmony and world peace. People
bound together through the promise of a new century, a new life
with possibilities beyond anything that had ever come before. It
had almost been a defining moment in history.
Yet somehow, the ugly side of human nature had emerged, first
surreptitiously as peace initiatives, forged with the best of
intentions, began to crumble. The dark remained hidden until Earth
herself paid the terrible cost and was so callously abandoned.
No more did fireworks play across the planet at hourly intervals.
The colour was gone along with the hope: the sterile celebrations
of the space stations seemed so inadequate in comparison. Where
were the cultural dances, the embracing of uniqueness, the proud
display of one's heritage?
Swept away in the anxiety to embrace the future. There was little
future left on the stations. Ella had watched much of the past
century to see that nothing really changed anymore, people were
born, spent a few decades working, and then died. No one really
built anything anymore. No one really dreamed.
Except for her grandson. She smiled, knowing that he and her
great-granddaughter were amongst those who were perhaps humanity's
last hope to regain the greatness of all they could be. John and
True were missing the turn of the century in cold sleep. They
wouldn't even think about it when they awoke, for they would be
busy building. Reaching. Creating something new.
The sun escaped Earth's last hold and Ella's window automatically
dimmed, filtering out the excessive brightness. Dawn. It was
beautiful. And when coloured with peace and hope, it was truly
magnificent.
---
End.
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