Savor

Monday
July 16th, 2317
7:01 A.M.

“Eva! Wait for me, Eva!”

My feet pounded on the cement, my scruffy sneakers kicking pebbles and trash into every direction. My heart pounded in my ears, making me deaf and blind to almost everything around me. I did slow down though, only barely. My mother was thirty-nine years old and not in the best health of her life, but I wouldn’t baby her; she knew how important it was for us to make it on time. To her credit, she didn’t waste another breath on calling out to me but huffed out her smoker’s breaths harder and gained speed so that I could hear her own cheap shoes slapping against the pavement behind me.

Ahead, I could see a large crowd. I knew from one glance that there were more than 500 people in the throng, and I swallowed my spit nervously. Some of the extras were family and friends of those who got selected to leave today on the ships headed to the new planet Savor, but I knew that many were there in hopes of sneaking on or tricking another person into giving them their invitation. Even the family and friends would do it…to their own.

Desperate times call for desperate measures my Nana used to love to say; it was a phrase from the older times, and I had taken a liking to it, well, since I was old enough to talk.

I gained speed again and I heard mom grunt behind me in frustration. I didn’t care. The fact was that I needed to get into that crowd; I needed to be in the front. I clasped my envelope tighter in my fist as I reached the mingling people. The air was thick with nervous conversation and movement of hundreds of bodies. Beyond the people, I could see the ship.

We would be boarding the S2 Vessel that left promptly at 8:00 A.M. this very morning. The S stood for Savior, and Savior stood for Savor. It was the second model that the Inventors had created for the purpose of transferring the human race to a new home on an Earth-like planet, and it was astounding!

I elbowed my way through the crowd, my mother long forgotten, until I was standing in front of the looming ship. I looked up at it and felt a weakness in my knees. The S2 was the size of three Hoverball fields and made entirely out of solar-proof metal. Its shell was in the shape of a capsule, except more circular. I couldn’t see the front of it, but I knew that there would be a large right to left window that the Pilots would look through when they guided the ship through space. To my knowledge, that was the only window that the S vessels were built with. It would mean that the passengers would not be able to look out during the trip and see the stars.

“Attention, S2 passengers,” a curt voice announced through a speaker somewhere to my left, “the crew asks that you gather into orderly lines in front of the five doors marked E. Please have your invitations ready. We will start boarding in exactly ten minutes and thirty-four seconds. Departure time will be at 8 A.M. Central time. Those who do not have an invitation will be asked to step away from the ship and proceed to the viewing dock. Thank you.”

I looked down at my watch; it was 7:10 A.M. Someone clasped my shoulder and I looked sideways at my gasping mother. She squinted angrily back at me.

“Evana, sometimes I think you’d rather leave me behind. Why didn’t you wait for me? You know my breathing is terrible.”

I knew her breathing was terrible, but I couldn’t call up an ounce of remorse. For centuries, people had been dying from cancer and lung disease due to smoking and yet, people still abused the habit.

“Let’s get in line, mother. Door E3 is just ahead,” I took her hand in mine and began leading her towards the stairs that led up to the marked door. An attendant, more like a soldier, stood by it. Already, people were climbing up the steps ahead of us. I saw that many clenched their invitations tightly as I did. When I looked to my left and right, I saw others heading up the four remaining pathways.

It was finally happening, I thought silently to myself, we were going to live.

“Proceed. Next!”

I stepped up to the soldier at the door and he held out his hand for my envelope. I handed it to him with shaking fingers, a silly worry knot tightening inside my stomach. What if it was fake? What if someone else’s name was on that sheet of paper? It was silly, of course, to think like that. I had checked the writing a hundred times before coming here, and I had the words memorized in my head.

Evana Lucricia Mills,

Please arrive at the Guerosville, MO airport on July 16th by 7:20 A.M.
You will be boarding the S2 Vessel heading to the planet Savor.
This invitation will act as your boarding pass.

Sergai Vasseley

The soldier gave a curt nod and handed it back to me. I breathed a sigh of relief and stepped forward into the arch of the open door. Behind me, mom let out a moan. When I glanced back at her, she was frantically searching her pockets.

Oh no…

“M’am, I need your invitation,” the soldier was telling her; he didn’t sound very patient. Mom met my eyes, tears gathering in her own. “I had it, Eva, I had it right here,” she patted her pants pocket, “it must have fallen out when we were running.” I shifted my gaze to the impatient soldier and to all of the people shuffling angrily behind my mother.

A wave of frustration swept me, followed by apprehension and a sick sense of injustice. I knew that my mother had gotten the invitation; I had seen it. I also was quite sure that it couldn’t have fallen out of her pocket because mom’s pants were too tight for mistakes like that. It only left one conclusion. When mom hadn’t been paying attention, someone had swiped her envelope. Someone in this crowd had boarded under my mother’s name or was waiting to board; someone who could be watching this scene unfold at this very moment.

“Sir, someone stole my mother’s invitation,” I took a step towards the soldier, “please believe me that she did have one. I read it with my very eyes.” His lips twitched at me with a mix of annoyance and disgust. “No invitation. No entry,” he said gruffly and tried to push mom to the side with his baton. By this time, she was crying, and the crowd had begun buzzing with conversation.

I tried a different approach. Almost pleading, I faced the man and looked up into his stony face. “You know they wouldn’t send me an invitation and leave my mother for next time. That’s not how it works. You know. Please, sir, you must let her through.”

He didn’t even blink. “I don’t know anything except that those without an invitation must leave the loading dock and proceed to the viewing dock. Now, step aside and allow entry for those who do have their ticket. Next!”

A woman with blonde hair and grey eyes interrupted the next passenger. I moved back towards my mother, taking her hand in mine, preparing for the worst. “Nathaniel, why is the line moving so slowly?” she asked coldly, her eyes landing on mother and I. The soldier, Nathaniel, glanced at us briefly. “The older one didn’t have a invitation.”

The woman stepped towards us, facing me more than my mother. I tried to measure her stance on the whole invitation thing, but I couldn’t gather anything from her marble face.

“There are plenty of families that get separated during these trying times,” she surprised me by saying softly, “and I’m sorry that your mother did not receive an invitation. You will have to board now, young lady, because you will not get another opportunity. Your mother will meet you on Savor when her time comes, I promise.”

I knew that she meant well, but I also knew that my mom would not get her invitation when the time came; she had already gotten it. I opened my mouth to say just that, but at that very moment a huge crash erupted down below on the landing pad. Within seconds, I felt the first earthquake shake the latter underneath my feet. The woman’s face turned white, and I had just enough time to hear the first scream.