Introduction: The Archive of Collapse

The planet reaches its breaking point in 2045. A century or so of climate change-induced havoc has devastated a large portion of the globe; that is why Earthlings go in search of refuge on Mars. Unfortunately, there were still some failings among them-left behind is Elena, the scientist who thought-it-would-be-better to stay on Earth, leaving her daughter Sofia, one of the first settlers on Mars. The Last Emails from Earth captures the echo of their progress toward the ultimate exile between two people caught up in such long, fragmented emails sent light years apart: regret shared and unshared, and the struggle to retain hope as the planet crumbles around them.

Email 1: From Elena to Sofia 

Subject: I’m Still Here 

Date: March 15, 2045 

Sofia, 

Assuming you will get this message, the satellites are down and MarsCom says transmissions are at 60 percent reliability. I must try, however. 

Three years it has been since you took flight. Three years since you stood at the threshold of our old apartment, your duffel bag slung attaché-style over your shoulder, and with that sly grin, you said, "You care about your graphs more than me." I didn't stop you. I should have. 

Earth is unrecognizable. Last month, the Arctic wildfires turned the sky orange for weeks. It is worthy of being called the Great Burn. The air tastes like charcoal. I wear a mask now, like the kind we used to laugh about during the pandemic (2020s). Remember when you would draw smiley faces on yours? 

I'm at the university still- what am left of it. Most of the students are gone. Dr. Chen from Bio died last week. Heatstroke. We buried him in the parking lot because the cemeteries are flooded. 

I am sorry, Sofia. I am so sorry for everything.

Love, 

Mom 

Email 2: From Sofia to Elena

Subject: Re: I’m Still Here 

Date: March 30, 2045 

Mom, 

Your email came through, and it had a timestamp set for twelve days. Twelve days for a sentence to cross the void. 

Mars is cold. Not as most would think - not because of its temperature, but about the silence. The colony is made of steel and recycled air. We have "park," if that is what you could call a room full of plastic plants. Miguel (my bunkmate) says: Better than nothing, though. 

Why I'm telling you this, I don’t know. You never inquired about my life before. 

Sofia 

Email 3: From Elena to Sofia

Subject: The Sky is Red 

Date: April 10, 2045 

Sofia, 

Today, the skies are all red. The fire ash mixes with the smog, and it looks like the whole world is bleeding. 

I found one of those very old photos of us today. You were six, hugging that stuffed octopus you loved-in fact, we were at the beach. You built a sandcastle and cried when the tide took it away. I said, "Nothing lasts forever." You: "Then I'll build it again." 

I could have let you. 

The electricity grid went down yesterday. I now write in penumbra from candlelight. Food is rationed according to government standby for 300 calories daily. They term it, the Final Phase. 

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

Do they have candles on Mars? 

Love, 

Mom 

Email 4: From Sofia to Elena 

Subject: Re: The Sky is Red 

Date: April 25, 2045 

Mom, 

No wax candles! Just LED panels of harsh brightness simulating sunlight. 

Miguel's sister was in London. He had no news of her in months. We found it easier not to speak about Earth. It was easier that way. 

Why are you still down there? The last shuttle left years ago. 

Sofia 

Email 5: From Elena to Sofia

Subject: Why I Stayed 

Date: April 28, 2045 

You asked why I stayed. 

When the evacuation orders were given, scientists were told to leave first, priority personnel - it was said. I gave my seat to Javier-remember that one? The graduate student who used to babysit you when I worked late? He has a daughter your age. 

I thought I could fix it. Wasn’t that arrogant of me? 

Last week I tried to replant the campus greenhouse, but the soil was dead, and nothing grows there anymore. 

I stay because if I leave, I admit that I have failed you twice. 

Love, 

Mom 

Email 6: From Sofia to Elena 

Subject: Re: Why I Stayed 

Date: May 5, 2045 

Mom, 

Javier's daughter, Lila, is here. She is in my engineering cohort, but she doesn't talk about him. 

I'm sorry about the greenhouse. 

Sofia 

Email 7: From Elena to Sofia 

Subject: The Storm 

Date: May 12, 2045 

Sofia, 

Last night, a category six hurricane hit. They don’t even call them hurricanes anymore—just “Terminus Events.” 

I took shelter in the library basement. The walls shook like the world was tearing apart. I thought about you. I prayed to gods I don’t believe in that you’d never have to feel this fear. 

When I crawled out this morning, the library was gone, reduced to rubble with a single book sticking out of the debris- The Little Prince. The page it was open to: “You become responsible, forever, for what you’ve tamed.” 

I tamed nothing. I failed everything. 

Love, 

Mom 

Email 8: From Sofia to Elena

Subject: Re: The Storm 

Date: May 20, 2045 

Mom, 

Lila showed me your old research today-- the climate models you built in the 2030s. They were right -- all of them.

She said you were the first to warn about the feedback loops. Why didn’t anybody listen when you warned them?

Sofia 

Email 9: From Elena to Sofia

Subject: They Didn’t Want to Listen 

Date: May 25, 2045 

Sofia, 

People do not listen to doomsayers. I presented my findings at the United Nations in 2035. They gave me a plaque and a pat on the back. By the next day, oil prices were hitting record highs.

I should have shouted louder. I should have burned the demon plaque.

Lila was always smarter than I was.

Love, 

Mom 

Email 10: From Sofia to Elena 

Subject: The Garden 

Date: June 1, 2045 

Mom, 

Today, we finally started the real garden, not plastic plants, but real soil shipped from Earth years ago. Lila says that it is full of microbes. We planted carrots and strawberries. It sounds silly, but I cried when the first sprout appeared.

Miguel thinks I'm losing it. Maybe I am.

Do you remember those tomatoes we tried to cultivate on the balcony? They always died.

Sofia 

Email 11: From Elena to Sofia 

Subject: Re: The Garden 

Date: June 5, 2045 

Sofia, 

I remember. You named each tomato. One, you called "Sir Squish." You drew a face on it with a marker.

The last tree in town was cut yesterday. This used to be a 200-year-old oak; they cut it down to use for firewood.

I'm glad you're growing things. Keep Sir Squish alive for me.

Love, 

Mom 

Email 12: From Sofia to Elena 

Subject: The Silence 

Date: June 10, 2045 

Mom, 

Your emails stopped. The last five days are already gone. Lila said that the comms towers of the East Coast went kaput. She's trying to hack into the old NASA satellites.

Miguel has started saying that hope is the worst thing to have here. I hate that he might be right.

Write back.

Sofia 

Email 13: From Elena to Sofia

Subject: Goodbye 

Date: June 12, 2045 

Sofia, 

The Power is back, for now. They say it's the last reconnection before the grid finally dies for good.

I'm here, at the beach. Our beach, this water is blood-warm. The boardwalk is gone, but the sand will always be here; I'm sitting exactly in the place we built that sandcastle.

I wish I had fought harder. For the world. For you.

I love you, Sofia. I always have.

Goodbye, 

Mom 

Email 14: From Sofia to Elena

Subject: Re: Goodbye 

Date: June 15, 2045 

Mom, 

Lila pulled strings to jack the signal. She says this might get through.

I am in the garden. Sir Squish has two leaves now. I will keep him alive. I will keep all of them alive.

You did not fail. You gave me a second world to fix.

I forgive you.

I love you, Mom.

Sofia