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April 15th, 2110.
It is still dark outside, but then it is always dark outside. I don’t know why I say “still” as though I’d wake up to the sun, because that’s impossible. Most of the time, I know this, but every now and I wake up and half-expect it, and only then do I slowly remember that there will never be a sun.
Even if I did see it again, I know it wouldn’t be anything like my dreams. There it’s always warm, even when I am bundled up in winter clothing; and in dreams, I see my parents, James, and Brenda again. I hope I never stop dreaming of them, and I’m afraid of what it will mean if someday I do.
The stars remain my constant companions, and while they haven’t lost their lustre, their light seems fainter than before. I know in the back of my mind that they are suns, and that their warmth reaches other planets as it should, and that they can’t really be any dimmer. Still, I feel like they dislike me.
It’s the day, I know. Today is one-year anniversary of the founding of Adenia. I’m sure that’s why they seem so distant and why I feel jagged. Sometimes it’s hard to believe that an entire year has passed. Other times, it feels like I have always been here, because so many things have happened — great things and terrible things.
Still, I am fortunate. I am safe, warm, never hungry, have few demands placed upon me, and the beauty of stars surrounds me. A League colony isn’t what I expected, but I was chosen to be here, and I am honored to be here. I endure. My name is Sarah Monroe of Adenia, outside the Sirus system.
She put down her pen and closed the diary, thinking, remembering. It’s not that time itself passes quickly or slowly, she thought at last, just how we percieve it makes it seem that way. It’s emotion that determines the speed of time, so all time is emotional time.
She glanced over at the grandfather clock at the far end of her bed. Its pendulem-driven tick-tock felt like a heartbeat to her, and the chimes on the hours ordered her days. Speaking of emotional time, she thought, it was nearly seven PM, time for the VR call with Jeffrey. That phrase was one of their many inventions. Sarah dashed to the mirror and made sure she looked presentable.
“It’s not that important,” she thought, but it was expected. She knew she didn’t want to go on the VR call as Miss Disheveled, or catch Jeffrey in the middle of brushing his teeth. She blew her golden-brown hair out of her eyes and ran a brush through it quickly, examined her teeth, and smoothed out her brown-and-gold jumper. The clock began its first chime as she rushed out of her room and took a left down the curving hallway.
She smiled as the memory of Brenda’s voice cajoled her, “Watch out! Geez, you’re always running.” She couldn’t help herself. She lost herself in things and then had to run to get to the next thing. The clock ended its seventh chime just as she reached the communications room.
A padded sage bench stood before the VR unit, which still reminded her of a squashed soda dispenser, although one with rails for track lighting extending outwards like stick arms. Her eyes narrowed to the right side, where a familiar grey tail curled outward. “Floyd,” she thought, smiling. The rest of him would be splayed up against the side of the power supply, soaking up its warmth. She pushed the square button with Jeffrey’s picture on it, and then sat down. She’d never forget the time that Floyd was chasing some dream-rabbit and knocked the power off in mid-chase. She’d put a cat-proof cover over the switch after that.
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