FutureStory

Tom stood in a room larger than the city he had left behind. It rose high above Tom’s head, filled with strange ships and scurrying people. He, along with twenty-two others from the plane were planned to get on the seven-thirty and seven-thirty-five shuttles to the moon colonies. The first shuttle, the seven-thirty shuttle was red and white, and shaped rather like a turtle. The seven-thirty-five shuttle was a monotone black, and shaped like a teardrop. It was sleek and new, shiny and polished to perfection. On the other hand, though, the other shuttle was large, awkward and dented, with grubby windows, and a little burnt at the edges. Over all, Tom would rather have ridden on the seven-thirty-five shuttle, but they had been split in groups of 11, and Tom was in the first group, which would be riding on the seven-thirty shuttle. While on the plane, he had made a new friend, a young girl with an eye patch and a long scar on her cheek. She seemed nice enough, though small for a girl of seven years, who appeared to be only five. Of course, Tom new nothing of this, because he had grown up knowing only two human faces: his and his grandfather’s. As a consequence, he had bad people skills for a ten-year-old.