2045… the year the last rockets launched, transporting the last of us into orbit.

We had known the Earth was changing for the last fifty odd years, however, it was only in the last ten that an expiration date was put on our sick and dying planet.

Many thought it was nothing to worry about and that we’d find a solution - so they kept on living - business as usual. It wasn’t until 2040 that it was hard to ignore. Dramatic shifts in weather patterns, food supply, and resources started the waves of panic that it was real.

Nations around the world were bleeding dry every last ounce of resource the Earth had to offer - it was dying so why not? The goal was to venture into the cosmos on a one-way ticket and hope, eventually, to build new civilisations across the universe.

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With a ten-year window and nations working together, they were able to make strides in rocket and propulsion technology, cutting travel distances significantly. Collectively building mammoth spacefaring craft, we call Transporters, these ships were equipped with everything required to start new civilisations.

While the transporters were a United mission between nations, getting to them was an every man for themselves type deal. As a nation you would build a ship, register it, assign a crew, and be given a departure number. There was no official oversight body other than self-appointed, if that. It was a race to secure seats on the transporters by any means necessary and it was common knowledge that some nations just didn’t have the resources or ‘pull’ to build capable spacecraft.

All passengers, except for the crew and essential-type workers, were randomly picked - a survivor lottery of sorts, but a complete disaster. Seats were killed for, bought, or never filled. Some didn’t even bother as they had the money and connections to rapidly build their own craft and gain a head start.