I am angry, always have been and always shall be angry, for I do not belong in this world. With humanity reaching the end of its childhood, I have seen it using its new found maturity in terrible ways. With their technology they have wreaked destruction upon this world, and other worlds as well, as they colonized them. The earth has been crying, for it can no longer harbor life. It has become a wasteland, with garbage strewn over all the land and through the sea. There are no more rainforests, there are no more grasslands, nor any arable land, for all the land above the sea is desert. Global warming has grown to such an extent that it is not long before the Earth becomes like Venus, a boiling inferno of hot gases and liquid metal. The polar ice caps have melted, there is very little land, and the depletion of ozone allows ultraviolet rays to run rampant, destroying the fragile web of life.

On an earth like this, I was born. We were one of the last, the last humans on the planet before the Earth was deemed unfit to live. We lived then, in glass boxes that floated on the boiling seas. I had never been outside the box, and I’m glad I never had, because I would have been shocked to see the state of the Earth. In the box, we lived in our own communities, in a placid state of existence that refused to question ourselves. We accepted our position – the poor ones, the people who couldn’t afford to buy a planet. We just watched video recordings of the Earth centuries ago, when people actually lived on the surface, and shared their joys and sorrows, for we had none. That is, until the Re-locators arrived. They wore yellow suits, the kind of nasty purplish yellow that makes you think of vomit. I knew I would hate them with their grim smiles and sardonic remarks. They told us we would be “moved” to a new planet. We were then bundled off into spaceships with barely enough room to turn around, like slaves in ships so may hundreds of years ago. Little did I know how correct my analysis was to be.

When we arrived at Utopia, I was stunned at its verdant forests. These only existed on Earth at the time of the dinosaurs. I did not have much time to look around, though, before I was separated from my mother and father and put into an automotive vehicle for purposes of transportation. I was with other boys my age and I asked them where we were going. Several of them snickered, but most of them were blank, while one only looked at me sorrowfully. I decided, for the first time in my teenage years, that I wanted my mother.

We were put into a camp, where we learnt how to make robots. We worked hard, for only by completing our projects were we given even the merest morsel of food. They were comparable to Nazi concentration camps. We all learned quickly whom to trust and whom to avoid, and whom to turn to for help. We were beaten and whipped if our work was anything short of perfection. I became angry then, and it was this anger which fueled me. After a while, if we proved to be exceptional workers, we would be promoted to Programming, which was better because we didn’t come to our dorms with bleeding hands every night. I was quick and made friends with those who would help me rise, and I soon was a Supervisor, whose sole job was overseeing the workers. Many of the Supervisors had grown sadistic and would be harsh, as if that would ever cure the damage that had been done to them when they were workers. I myself was often impatient with them, for in my heart I knew that I never should have risen so quickly. I did not have the intelligence, nor the mechanical skills. But even I knew that I had gone too far when I whipped a girl for creating a program that destroyed two expensive robots. I shall never forget the day when I saw her writhe in agony and all those who watched her had faces in anguish at her pain. I’ll always see the blood seep through and stain her clothes, her face as she passed into oblivion, as I stood, panting, over her and sent her to the hospital. She lived, but she was never again able to walk. That night I knew that I had lost any innocence that had been left in me, and I was no longer a child. I had just turned twenty.

Perhaps it would have been better if I had gone to visit her at the hospital, perhaps I would not have felt so guilty, if I had sought her forgiveness. But, to expiate for my sin, I began to oversee a new project, one that built a satellite that would orbit Utopia, monitoring it. However, unbeknownst to everybody, I included room enough for one person to lie flat in it. Somehow, nobody noticed, and it was soon completed. Meanwhile, during the construction, I began to compile a history of the Earth, and mankind’s follies, how humanity had destroyed the Earth. Everything was ready.

I have been here for four days now, inside the satellite without food or water and have put this story into the computer as well as my history of the world. Time has almost run out for me, there is only about an hour’s supply of oxygen left. I hope however, that one day someone will come, and find this satellite, and take the time to go into the archives, and that they shall read this story and my history, and perhaps learn something from it, and if they will, then my sin will have been erased and I may go to Heaven in peace.

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