Gamebuilding #1: An Introduction

Firstlight, Cycle 8032, Count 23

Dear Diary,

Everything was simple. Well, if not simple, at least normal. As normal as the world could be I suppose. Well, when held up against the "world" today, things were certainly simple back then. You woke up, had breakfast. God, I miss eggs. Went to work... I hated my job, sitting in that god-forsaken cubicle all day, just crunching numbers. Now I would give anything to go back. Give me a conference call any day over this crap. This dystopian fairy tale. I'd even take the boss's drunk dials over another day down here. Up here? Ah hell.

I remember that day three years ago. I pretend I don't along the other Terrers. We all kind of pretend to forget how it used to be. Whenever we talk about then, about lemonade stands on the sidewalk... about the rain. God, I miss the rain. Someone always gets to crying, and we don't have time for that. It's not safe enough in D11 to cry.

Best to keep a low profile. Best to keep a slingshot to your hip and your mouth shut. We learned that quickly.

The sun was high. God, I miss the sun. And I was late. Therapy sessions don't didn't come cheap and I hated keeping my husband (ex-husband now I suppose) waiting. He always gave me that look, that disappointed look. He was a master of making me feel shit. Damn Saturday Boston traffic... There was this car in front of me. A black VW bug, Massachusetts plates. I even remember their plate number. Why do I remember their plate number? It was 2:06 pm. Peter Gabriele just came on.

I wonder how long it was before they realized I wasn't in my car anymore. I wonder if anyone's even left. I wonder how long Bruce waited for me to get there, or to get home. Maybe they're all gone. Global warming and all that jazz, maybe the planet's gone nuclear at this point. Who the hell cares anyways, there wasn't much there worth saving.

God, I miss earth.

~ Kayla Bradford