(( Listen to Into the Darkness ))

Hajmoul Fluge sat, staring at Earth from the small porthole. The blue sphere floated there, floating free. He sighed. He had been away from Earth for five long years. Well, technically, he was only a few thousand miles away. The space station Halo was his home, and would be, his home. He didn’t like it, but it was the hard truth. His family, his friends, his son and daughter, all on Earth. Sure, they sent him cards. Sure, he spoke to them via VidPhone. And, of course, his good friend, Vlad snuck him cigarettes and beer, accompanied with a joke to lift the spirits. But it didn’t help. His term was over in ten more years, and he was scratching of the days on his calendar until then. He hated the station. He hated the taste of the artificial air. He hated the knowledge that if the power generators failed, they’d all die from lack of oxygen. He hated the notion that only a few feet of titanium separated a habitable environment from a deadly vacuum. Hajmoul hated his sorry excuse for an apartment, his dingy shower, his food (Except the food his wife sent). He hated everything on the damn station, including himself for volunteering. Hajmoul unbuckled himself out of the chair and allowed himself to float in the zero gravity. He was tired, but he had work to do. He grabbed the handrails one by one and pulled himself to the observation deck. It was really tiring. The circular shape of the station made it worse. The central hallway made one big loop. He had just left the crew quarters. 135 handrails away was the cafeteria. 170 was the marker for the engineering room. 200 was the lounge and casino. And 250 waste observation deck, and it wasn’t even a quarter of the way around. The station was immense. Hajmoul knew a man who once took an entire day to go from the medical room to the crew quarters. At least it was a good exercise. After about 20 minutes, he was at the observation deck. Now his work began.

(( End music ))

(( Listen to The Deep Forest ))

Hajmoul pulled himself in the zero gravity to his work chair, and buckled himself in. The observation deck was empty except for him, so it was a really deathly quiet. Hajmoul opened the main shutters and a huge window appeared. He switched on the computer at his desk, as well. Then, he did his job. He observed earth. The Halo Station was, in short, an earth observatory. It was constructed and put into commission by earth’s first ruler, Rian Adamska, in 2368. Ever since WWIII, earth put down its weapons, the people became one. Earth was now one big democratic world, a calm, peaceful place. A new, universal language was set into place. Those of the 21st century would describe it as a mix of German, Spanish, Japanese, and French. This station was set into place to signify the unification of earth. This of course, was a long time ago. About a thousand years ago. Ancient history, as far as Fluge was concerned. As Hajmoul made a log of all the star positions and meteorites, he sang to himself an ancient song, a song sang in the original English language. Apparently, it was sung by a group called “The Beatles”, but he couldn’t be sure. Even the words did not make sense. His mother, who taught him it, his grandmother, his great grandmother, even his great-great grandmother, did not know not what the lyrics meant, but it still flowed nicely. Suddenly, a beeping sound came from the computer. Vlad was calling him! Happy to take a break from this tedious work, he accepted the message. Vlad’s face appeared. “Hey, Haj!” he said with a big grin. “Hello Vlad” Hajmoul answered. “How are things on your end?”

Vlad answered smiling “It’s great here, real water, air, good food. I bet it’s way better than at the station.”

“Don’t push it.”

“Okay, I’m done. Yeah, so how’s it up there?”

“Same as usual.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be, I signed up.”

“Ah well. You here about the uprising in North Africa?”

“No, I didn’t.” Hajmoul had heard of the uprisings, groups of people that wished for separate governments. The sometimes revolted violently, killing all in their way. “Well, a Communistic party bombed a school in North Africa. All children were killed.”

“All of them?”

“Not a single survivor from that school.”

“My God.”

“Yeah, it’s terrible.”

“How’s Molly?”

“She’s fine. She said the kids are good as well.”

“Good. Y’know, I really miss her. Can you tell her to come up to the station in a few days? I need to see her.”

“Sure. Y’know? What the hell, I’ll come too.”

“See you buddy.”

(( End Music ))