The palm trees lining the wooden promenade swayed gently in the hot ocean breeze. The sky above the village was its usual cloudless blue. From my seat outside the café I watched as a small crowd gathered down by the shoreline. Even from this distance I could soon see what they had also surely seen – the waters of the bay slowly receding into the shimmering horizon. I quickly finished my coffee and walked across the street to the beach. A single, white-topped ripple now rolled its way back towards land. Then the horizon went dark. Then we all ran.
They say that once the mountain streams ran free towards clear oceans filled with life. Verdant forests sang a song of hope while a happy peoples worked the plains under a warming sun. This was a world of expectation; a world to replace one exhausted and dead – a second chance.
Now the descendants of those first settlers live in domes. Constrained behind a metre of glass, they stare out from their sterile confinement towards a frozen wasteland. Man has only been on this planet for but a moment in time, yet already the search for another new home has begun.