Second Earth

21st, January 3240 A.D.

   Dear diary, I am afraid this is going to be the last entry I can write to you. The Federation Press just announced the final list of chosen candidates to get on board the Cathedral. And what I fear the most has happened. It's not that I am walking down the road to my own demise, dearest diary. I am chosen. It's the leftovers that's arousing my concern. I don't want to abandon my loved ones. My parents, my lovely brother and above them all, my loving husband Eric. They all acknowledge their destiny as I knew it by talking to them. They know I am in a position of privileges. The Science Academy will never abandon their finest men, not by choices. That leaves me the hardest decision to make -- to save my own life and prolong my future or to stay here and face my own doom with those who help shaped my life. I am so frustrated to make my moves. I am always decisive but for the first time in my life, with this boarding ticket in my hands, I don't know what to do.

    There would be no greater joy than this if you could kindly sheperd me to a final resolution, diary. But now that I know you couldn't do such thing I am left on my own two feet. The Sun's radiation keeps getting more intense and I can feel the loss of gravity under my weight. My world is dying and so am I. If there is such thing called afterlife, I wish I would never fall in this alike situation ever again.


                                                                                                                                  Goodbye, Diary.

                                                                                                                                                Dominic