Terrence—Age 23, Generation 3

Tomorrow, Eldest Abigail will take her first steps. It has been decided. She found a lump and will commit to her word. The airlock will be opened, and she will step through to the other side. I pray she survives the ordeal.

It is a world of her choosing where she will venture to. In the worst case, it will be quite a beautiful grave. In the best case, we will finally have a reprieve from these same six walls. I cannot stop dreaming about it.

It is becoming hard to imagine how the past Terrs and Abbs spent their entire lives here. The tablet tells me I am twenty-three years of age—I doubt I could make it to thirty in here. In short, my hopes are high for tomorrow.

We have been mapping our travels, always remembering to trace our way back to this most special place. It is far too picturesque for us to lose track of.

The streams resemble those told in Terrence Prime’s tales of Earth, flowing between mountains and irrigating fields. Trees of towering height cluster together across the vast plains, providing numerous oases of shade under the comforting light from the system’s star.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

We’ve seen fruits and vegetables sprout from smaller trees amidst the underbrush, presumably to entice the appetites of the local fauna. The only fauna, to be exact—herbivorous birdlike creatures who travel incredible distances on the slightest breeze. Borderline mindless, eternally peaceful creatures.

"Freebirds,” Eldest Abigail enjoys calling them. I must admit that I am pretty fond of the name as well.

I’ve seen her spend hours in her journal, doodling interpretations of the floating beasts of peace. I know how it must excite her to possibly see them with her own eyes. Perhaps she’ll even be able to touch one as they feed.

We will call the planet “New Earth,” she says. If successful, it will be the first extraterrestrial colony of the human race—that we know of, at least.

I have faith that we will persevere. We have the teachings of the Primes—their seemingly endless library—providing us with the necessary benchmarks on the path to the Universal Computer.

Abby-3 and I have been reading the lessons on the earliest stages of civilization: farming, shelter construction, basic medical knowledge, and efficient governance. We are confident in our ability to execute these crucial first steps in the long pilgrimage home. It may not be in our lifetimes, but I believe we can ensure that Terrence Martin and Abigail Melfi will return to Earth.

As of late, Eldest Abigail has been repeating a certain phrase, and I think I like it, too. It gives me hope, reminds me of our selfless purpose.

“May we find our way home.”