The year is 2435; it has been a full century since humanity rose back towards the surface, rising from the ashes of a devastated civilization, from within the buried bunkers and tunnels that sheltered us during the End-War.  People still talk about that scar on our history as if it came by surprise, what they don’t realize is that the reason it began was crafted by our own hands, turns out that the world kept on turning even as we ended, and the skies blackened by the mistakes we had made.  Those lucky enough and wealthy enough within the collapsing society were able to leave Terra and become galactic pioneers as they searched for new homes, while those who were left behind continued to scour the surface for resources and rot in their filth.  Countries collapsed, wars broke out, anarchy reigned over some of the most powerful governments to exist in the last few centuries, and all it took to spark the end was one man had to press a button.  The next few weeks would create a living hell on Earth as the ground shook and burned as missiles streaked the sky, the important people ran to their bunkers as others conveyed in any shelter they could find, and those left on the surface were nothing but burning shadows when the nukes stopped falling.  The mushroom clouds blotted the sky, creating an era of everlasting darkness as life slowly choked on the radiation and dust that filled the once breathable air.  The stories reached the stars as the colonies of humans cried and shrieked in horror as their home died in front of their eyes, knowing that they couldn’t go back to their home, the human race waited.  Those among the stars expanded creating worlds to replace the void that was ripped open by the war, and those left on the dead Earth created communities and governments that existed within the tunnels underneath the cities across the globe. 

As years turned to decades, and decades turned to centuries, three hundred years passed as the dust and smoke dissipated into the upper atmosphere and the radiation dropped slowly, humanity stepped out of their holes with the new generations having no memory of their old world and saw what was left of their society.  Ruins covered the landscapes; metal skeletons stood erect within the crusted ground, and as they stepped forth from the ashes the rest of humanity returned from the sky.  Large fleet ships came into orbit above the world, drop ships lighting up the sky with their thrusters returning to aid the renewed society that had emerged from the ashes of a broken home.  With the knowledge of those who had stayed and the technology of those who had returned, the human race rebuilt itself into a gleaming example of fortitude and determination.  But as all the philosophers have said, though we may rebuild and remake, if we do not learn from our past mistakes, we will repeat them in the future.  Unfortunately, this truth came to light too late, governments began to oppress those not able to protect themselves as armies clashed over resources light years away, society eventually separated the world into two kinds of people those who stayed on earth were known as ‘grounders’ and those who had left became the ‘Travelers’.  The groups became extremely segregated as patents and restrictions were placed that only certain genetic makeups could rise to the higher class of Travelers, soon all about 15% of the world’s population were classified as Travelers and were granted specific jobs and privileges kept away from the ‘filthy hands’ of the grounders. 

Rebellions rose, pushing against the glass ceiling placed above the other 85% of the world, shouting out against their oppressors and those who considered themselves better.  As their resistance became violent the fist of their oppressors came crashing down upon them, orbital ships fired upon districts of innocents as mercenaries moved through the streets pushing the filth into smaller spaces allowing the ships to wipe them out all the easier.  This mass genocide happened only fifty years after the re-establishment of the new human society during the year 2336, seeing this massacre occur caused the outer worlds of the human race to rush to the aid of their brothers once again.  The ships used by the travelers were obliterated, their leaders hung, and those who murdered for payment were given life sentences on prison moons across the system; Martial Law was established and a standing occupation force was placed within cities as reconstruction occurred, and the genetic glass ceiling was removed and life returned to normal for a time.  Over the next 39 years, the occupation force would shrink and diminish to a global guarding force, Martial Law would be lifted and governments would be re-established as a singular global counsel.  This system would appear to have the potential of keeping the peace until about 10 years ago when a small terrorist cell threatened the entire global counsel with a contraband nuclear device.  The threat was eliminated and traced back to a small country within the Russian border; this forced the council to finally come to a unanimous decision and set forth the motion to engage Order 143, which was a failsafe within the military jurisdiction to draft any willing citizens and begin the process of creating condensed and self-sustaining cities that would allow for the control of extremists within the separated districts. 

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I was one of those draftees; my name is Captain Jack Briar, and I was selected to command the forces that were responsible for creating and establishing one of the super cities within the ruins of the ashen United States.  The next decade was a living nightmare as newly-drafted soldiers would mercilessly kill ‘unruly’ civilians to make a point and keep the peace within their small sections.  I tried to keep my soldiers in check, making sure that everything went as smoothly as possible, but the atmosphere of insanity left over from this false war tore at the cohesion of the men under everyone’s command, as they slowly became soot covered and brain dead drones that only had one objective on their minds.  As the last few years finally came close to an end, the extremist threats entangled within the walled and surveyed cities covering the globe came to an exhausting close, as units began being rotated home, discharged from duty, and implanted into a dark world without any assistance from their former commanders. 

By the ninth month of the tenth year, I was left with only two-hundred of my original two-thousand, those who were left were empty and blackened by the world that they have tried to protect, and scars covered the faces of young men who joined at eighteen and are leaving at twenty-eight, completely changed and distorted by the hell they have walked through.  It is now month eleven; the men are counting the days left until we are welcomed back into the wrought iron walls.  I found myself counting too as we sat in the barracks outside the walls of New Gettysburg, waiting for that phone call to send us all home, weeks passed and the phone still sat silent.  As our hearts had sunk and our morale shattered, it finally happened…the phone began to ring, the commanders calling in and releasing the units around the newly erected cities.  We could finally go home, you could feel the collective sigh of relief from the soldiers as their bags were packed and rifles slung.  As I began to leave, watching my soldiers load into the drop ships that would carry them back to what they had left, I imagined my return, walking back into my forgotten home tired, triumphant, and victorious. 

Today the year is 2437; I regret that decision to return home with every fiber of my being.  If they had told me what would happen, what waited for me there, I would have rather taken my own life inside the barracks than face the man-made Hell that awaited my arrival into its blood-strewn maw.