It had all the right markers, met all the required measures, but something was off. From a distance, the orb appeared solid grey as if made of shady granite. The only texture came from a subtle ripple in its drab coat and the probe could detect no noise other than the distress signal and no scent other than the dust of death. The patches of dark green sludge were a surprise once we’d made it through the outer layers of the atmosphere. They moved sluggishly as if gel stirred by a sullen child with better things to do. Liquid clogged with debris? we wondered. All else was grey. Endless grey. It disintegrated into glass and steel and stone as we zoomed in on it. Every inch of the globe was covered in cities of grey that reached into the pollution-riddled sky in their search for light and clean air. All were empty. We went around and around that once-blue planet, looking for any sign of life. We found one interesting artefact to take home: a series of placards chained to the railings of a grand white house now covered in the same deadly dust of greed and denial. ‘STOP CLIMATE CHANGE!’ the placards proclaimed in capital letters. Beside them, shouting equally loudly was ‘MAKE AMERICA GREATER.’ The latter had got their wish, it seemed. Image by Jonny Lindner from Pixabay
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It didn’t hurt, I remember that. It was the shock of it, the plummet to earth and the sight and sound of my hopes of a much-desired accolade sliding away across the faded tarmac. Straight to her. That’s what brought on the quickly suppressed tears.
She’d pounced on it, her coveted ringlets bouncing prettily beneath pageant-worthy bows, her triumphant ‘Yes!’ ringing in my ears. She’d looked straight at me and smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile; the twist of her lips and the sneer in her eyes made that very clear. She gloated at my clumsiness, laughing at how everyone crowded around her, calling her name and not mine. It was my first lesson in the vagaries of human loyalty: that it takes so little for it to swing in another’s direction, for us to abandon one and race to another. But I wasn’t the only one to understand the nastiness that lay behind the periwinkle blue eyes and butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-it, rosebud mouth. A chunky, slightly grubby hand appeared in my peripheral vision: Jack, the new boy. Boisterous, fun and brave, he’d invented the game we played and immediately become king of our Lilliputian kingdom. My eyes met hers as he pulled me to my feet and didn’t let go. He’d seen her look and picked his side. The horizontal slash of her mouth and frowning brow were stark against the simpering laughter and excited hurrahs that surrounded her. She knew. She might have won the ball, but I’d won the prize. |