1 Testament to the Old

The Golden Record, a message sent into space, was intended for reference aliens which humanity hoped would eventually send back communications.

Throughout the course of humanity's rule over the green planet of Earth, the intelligent life-form did nothing but pollute and rob the planet of its valuable resources, emitting the fumes of its own blood into the air until eventually, in the year 2179, the air began tearing the flesh from children who were at play, their parents watching their agony, and humanity became desperate for a way to reverse their effects, but it was too late; they'd already set their feet into a fiery hell that made no exception. Whether man, woman, or child, you met the same maker as the rest, turned to ashen statues that roamed the cities or crawled upon it.

Finally, the world's leaders came to an agreement: to leave this world with 2 representatives from each ethnicity, one man and one woman. They were to be sent to a newly-established, oxygen-rich dome on mars, able to house agriculture through implementing earth's resources into the rocky soil and melting the ice hidden deep into the core of the lifeless, barren planet. It took years to cultivate the atmosphere of Mars, but through a process I still fail to comprehend after 20 years of schooling by the federation, they made it happen.

However, their man-made atmosphere would not last forever.

The Federation was founded by those few dozen people, innovating endlessly until, a few thousand years ago, they left Mars in search of others, someone to help. They had no hope of living any longer than they did on Mars.

That's, at least, what I've been told.

My name is Zuri Dubois, and I work for the federation as a scout, seeking out habitable planets for months at a time. People have trouble remembering my existence back at Xanum, the Federation's "home planet," but I can't blame them; I'm never there, and when I am, I'm there to see the commander for another scouting mission.

It's hard maintaining friends outside of the federation, but the ones I do have, I treasure; they're all I've truly got, honestly.

'Gunther, Sofia… I miss you.'

The beeping of the console ahead nauseated me more than the lack of oxygen. It was so annoying, piercing into my ears like a jackhammer, but each time I thought it might stop, it continued. It was hell.

'Shut up…'

My arm lazy flapped toward the console, flopping onto buttons that I'd completely forgotten the function of, but it didn't stop the beeping. Exhausted, my eyes began closing on their own, heavy as hell.

As I began to doze off, the pod began rumbling and tossing about, throwing me back to reality.

'I'm entering an atmosphere?! I can't see a thing!'

Through the pod's window was nothing but black, giving me the impression of more empty space, but I was, no doubt, entering the atmosphere of something.

I glanced at the console. On it, I could see the speed I was falling and my proximity to the ground; my altitude. The pod began switching into glide protocol, preparing to fly through the atmosphere of this new planet like a plane.

'It's a planet and not too big of one, judging from the speed I'm falling…'

I pressed button after button, preparing the pod for a landing while blind as a bat. It'll be taxing and warrant my undivided attention, but with my experience flying a pod for 7 years and the technology at my disposal, it'll be possible.

All the same, my oxygen was still running short, making the process all but easy. My hands thrashed about as I continued to try preparing the pod for a landing, but at this point, I'd be lucky to crash it without burning alive as the temperature continued to rise with little hope of stopping.

Eventually, I'd successfully entered the atmosphere, but I was nothing close to being able to land the thing. My body was weak, and the air was thin within the pod; I'd be better off opening the pod and allowing the cool breeze of death to envelop me. That way, I wouldn't be suffering like now.

[Oxygen Levels Critical. Refill Now.]

[Fuel Depleted. Refuel at Authorized Stella-port.]

[Low Altitude. Wings engaging.]

The commands came in like a flood as the pod became level, gliding through the atmosphere. My eyes wouldn't open, and I couldn't move; all I could hear was the beeping of the console and my heavy, pleading breathing as an undertone to the melody.

'With this, I'll be able to serve as a statue rather than a painting.'

A distant crash could be heard, too far to discern what or why.

'Who would've thought.'

<"A stoic one, huh? You've devoted your whole life to being a scout for what, exploration? The most you'll find out in that empty void is some rocks and some prettier ones. Don't waste your time.">

Sofia's face filled my mind. I remember smiling as she'd scold me for my dreams… It showed me how much she cared for me.

<"Really, dude?"

A sturdy man ran his hand under his chin as he thought to himself. He wore a white suit with a web-like design running over a wired inner layer that flexed with his body. When he spoke, I could feel the power and warmth of his voice.

"I get it. You do you man. I'm all for your dream if you stay safe. As long as you can promise me that, I have no objections."

He extended his arm, and I hesitantly returned the favor. A smile filled his face as his image faded from my mind.>

Next, Gunther, my best friend since childhood. I remember his dream as well. I'm more worried for his safety than my own, honestly.

I felt my body jump and thud onto a surface, but despite the rough impact, I felt no pain. It was at that moment that I'd lost all hope of returning.

Not only was my entire body motionless and wet, but my face was wet at the eyes as I finally lost consciousness.

…

'Air.'