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streets more dangerous. We heard about charity groups bringing small farmers with greenhouses together to provide people with food, but those distribution centers were quickly seized by the formidable gangs running the show. Reports of a loaf of bread costing twenty-two dollars near Dallas came across the waves one night, and everyone gasped. With jobs becoming scarce as economies collapsed, no one could afford to feed themselves.

Talk on Circadia circulated around where people’s families were, what we would be going home to, or if the possibility of us going home was still even an option. People were looking to different nations’ governments to take action. We watched live United Nations meetings, where government leaders argued for hours, without ever seeming to reach a decision.

AFTER A COUPLE OF LONG days, Captain Idris attempted to use the softphone to try and make contact with Earth—with anyone—but no one answered. They were all undoubtedly busy, but we felt so alone. We were surely forgotten in the chaos. No one cared about a reality TV show anymore. There were bigger things happening, like war. Besides, it was mostly a secret that we had even launched. The panic that we had been left alone to our own devices on a new planet spread through the group.

Everyone sat around the softphone when Idris attempted to make contact, anxiously waiting to hear a reply, but the call was never received.

Individually, people tried to call their loved ones. Only a handful of the calls were answered, and all bore some sort of bad news. The majority of the outgoing communication was never reciprocated, leaving open space for the mind to wonder. My heart ached for my mother, whom I had no idea about. I yearned to know if she was safe, in trouble, or worse. I attempted to call, but like the rest, there was no answer. Everyone gathered when Idris would attempt to reach home, hoping for the best. I begged to a God I didn’t believe in to save them.

In between one of the four calls made each day, people carried on with normal life as best they could. A few people volunteered to prepare meals with pork and freeze-dried vegetables, while the rest of us worked toward progress.

Deciding to try and move on, I ran the first soil test on Circadia. It didn’t make me feel any better. None of the results made any kind of sense. Phosphates, nitrogen, potash all showed levels of concentration that were off the charts. Unprecedented. I took the soil sample to the chemistry team, hoping for an answer. Their wide eyes were telling. They looked at me like I was crazy or pulling a prank on them. I never got any clarity, which made me worry.

The architects worked on actual houses as best they could without laborers. The chem team continued to work on the soil samples and find the minerals and ores we needed. With no answers about the soil conditions, I worked on tilling fields and working the ground as best I could without help. The engineers worked on setting up solar panel fields with a skeleton crew. Of course, we did not have the help we needed or required, but since the camera crew had stopped filming without anyone to broadcast to, they pitched in and helped where they were needed. It was refreshing to be free from the watchful eyes of the cameras and to see the camera crew finally pick up their slack.

Our efforts towards progress were efforts frequently interrupted by new headlines. It was a shit show, and no one knew what to do about it.

It was worse than the first time everyone thought Earth was coming to an end, which said something about the conditions down there. Before, when Circadia was projected to smash into Earth, doom was imminent but the current conditions were good. Now, the world could feel the asphyxiation that ultimately was consuming them.

Our hearts hurt for them. There was nothing we could have done there, but there was definitely nothing we could do here. We had no idea if our loved ones were alive or dead, or if our homes were gone. The feeling of knowing we might never go home pounded in my brain over and over. We stayed strong, though. Not one of use cried after that initial night, but it was all a front.

And then one morning, everything changed. The news leaders announced that a new plan would be initiated, direct from the nation’s front-runners. It was no wonder that when they finally reached a unanimous decision about the future of earth and its people, it was well-received. Newscasts showed people back home parading around and celebrating in the cities, now that new hope had arrived.

We watched from above. In a shocking turn of events, we were expected to solve Earth’s problems. We alone, a group of a hundred people, were supposed to be their saviors. They announced it to the world before we were ever notified. We sat in shock. The sentiment that we thought we were forgotten and alone had been overwhelming. Now, we were going to be Earth’s last-ditch effort. We were a unique group of individuals, never backing down from a challenge, but this challenge was another thing entirely.

We wondered how it would work, but we had a pretty good idea. We were screwed.

AFTER A WEEK OF IDRIS calling four times a day to different government agencies and our home base, he finally got an answer. The US Embassy in New Zealand finally picked up the phone. When they did, it was the Vice President of the United States speaking. We all sat captivated, waiting to hear what he had to say. Idris looked like he was in shock for a moment, then bolstered up some courage and agreed to whatever was said. Respectfully ending the call, Idris looked back at all of us sitting crisscross applesauce like kindergartners waiting for story time.

Idris removed the headset slowly

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