Rockets and Beyond!

The Arks (DRAFT)

So, what do you do, when your world is coming to an end? Not just in the metaphorical sense, no, but in the literal. I find myself staring down the barrel of that gun. As it's like a gun, a gun pointed right at your head with someone else, slowly pulling the trigger. My world is coming to an end, our scientists have discovered a blackhole that our planet is orbiting into. There were talks at first at somehow altering our planet's orbit, but those ideas were quickly shot down. As many of them would have ended up destroying the planet. So, then, the idea was supported that we evacuate as many people who matter to a nearby colony of ours. The idea was called, "the Ark." There are only so many ships, and so much time that we have. Scientists estimate that the planet only has seven days before it hits the event horizon of the blackhole itself. I know enough about blackholes, once it hits the event horizon, everything on this planet is doomed. Well, that's wrong for me to say. Everything on this planet is already doomed. We're just saving what we can.

"Only people with the proper paper work will be allowed through the gate to the ship. All people who attempt to force their way into the complex will be shot with no warning." A loud masculine voice calls out from the loud speaker.

As that loudspeaker announcement rings out, I can hear the frantic sounds of people at the gate to the spaceship. The people, those poor people. Only so many of them could get passes to get onto the spaceship, the hope of life itself. Yet, there are so many. Who get to decide who lives and who dies? It's not right, it's not right at all. I should get ready to do my job though, I'm a guard at a transportation station to the Ark.

My name is Noah, and I have the dirtiest job in the world. My job is to be a guard, let people who have passes by and block others who do not have a pass at all. Currently, I'm in the armory for the station on the path to the military base that guards it. I grab my rifle and my bullet resistant black vest then slide them on. The black vest contrasts my smooth white skin. Well, it does except for a scar I have. A light pinkish scar in the shape of a star.

I'm going to need to be on my toes today as I let people by who have passes and block those who do not. I do this for my family, as they promised all of us, all of us guards that we'd be the people who'd be picked up last once all the rich, powerful, and otherwise blessed enough to get a pass leave.

"Noah, you're needed outside!" I hear another male voice callout to me.

"Okay, Isaac, I'm coming." I shout back in response.

Slinging my rifle over my shoulder, I step out of the armory of our little station and out into the elements.

Stepping outside, all around me are tall steel buildings, skyscrapers of sorts. This small, wooden shack like building I'm just stepping out of puts me in sight of a nearby river. You can just hear the water flowing. It's where my wife and I had our first kiss together. I still remember when I first told her about my job as a guard at the pass station. At first, she asked me how I felt to by dooming so many people, and she freaked out when she heard that this planet is going to be destroyed. After I told her that I'll get us a pass by guarding at the station, her disapproval lightened a bit. It's as if she accepted the fact that we all must get our hands a little dirty. At least, a little dirty to survive.

As I grasp my rifle sling even more, I start walking to the gate room. There is a large steel grey perimeter that is electric that has been built to ward of trespassers, but we've been given orders to shoot anyone who dares to try to climb over it if that pain of the electricity didn't get to them first. The base we work at is inside of a large city, it's mostly a barracks for shoulders that have been converted into a pick-up station for the ride to one of the evacuating ships. Above me is the clear blue sky, and near me is the path to the gate. There are three guards standing there with rifles and a crowd of zombie like people of various races, colored clothing, some tattered and some not trying to be allowed by. Some of them are moaning in distress, extreme sadness, others in anger. I can't say that I blame them to be personally honest with you, if I were doomed. I'd feel the same anger, especially if I knew that I could have been saved.