A finger plunges into fresh soil. A seed falls in. There is a momentary pause before a hand wipes dirt into the hole. It pauses, lingering; a subtle shake rattling through its fingers.

He looks up. A field of earth sprawls before him. A tiny tree sticks up on the far side. A sad smile crosses his shaking lips.

He feels her there, watching him. He can hear her cruel smile pulling back across jagged teeth. She’s speaking cruel words to him. He ignores.

He stands up and turns away from the field, ignoring her entirely. She knows she is inevitable, so she is happy to grin and sneer as he tries to walk away. He knows he will never be free; his fate long set in stone.

Still he laments what once was. So far away in both space and time. His hope died with the infernal machine. It served its purpose, and now it was gone. Now, it was his turn to do the same.

He nearly cries wishing he’d met the same fate as the rest. Why was he cursed to live?

He watches machines built by smarter men than him erect what would become his home. She said so. She pointed to the first building raised along the manufactured coastline. She declared it their home. He clenched his fists at his side as each brick was laid; each timber framed.

In a matter of weeks, a replica of what he left behind would sprawl across this worthless rock. More seeds would be planted.

In a matter of years, voices would fill the streets; lights would turn on in the empty homes.

And yet he would forever be alone.

They would never know what came before. What was sacrificed.

A god, dead for their survival. A planet sundered for their future. No one would ever know.

He climbs the scaffolding and sits upon the steeple of a roof’s frame. He looks out across the sea to a setting sun. It’s too red, he thinks. Sol was a better star.

He sits. Darkness falls and the moon rises. Too oblong, Luna was a better guardian.

He sits.

The sun rises.

It sets.

The moon rises.

It sets.

He sees the passage of time, but will never feel it.

He envies the seeds, big and small. He envies their ability to feel the sunshine on their skin, to grow and live, to find meaning from nothing. To one day close their eyes, never to open them again.

To see their last sunrise and moonfall.

That, he laments, will never be him.

He feels her wicked grin behind him.

He ignores her in favor of counting the minutes, the hours, the days, the years, the decades, the centuries until the day his heart’s song returns. Until he can sing again. Until his soul is lifted from darkness. Until he is whole once more.

Eternity was so beautiful with him by his side.