“Fiction is the lie through which we tell the truth.” ― Albert Camus
I grew up under the military government. As a middle-class girl, nothing had changed in my life. I went to school, read my books, watch television and eventually played with my sister. Our house was big enough, clean enough, well-stocked to give us peace of mind and live without noticing the atrocities the government was making in our name.
The ship blink in a soft blue, a sound of birds and running water like a river running makes me think the ship was trying to make me feel welcome. I never had that sensation before, to be welcomed. I wasn’t fit my family, not to the places where a study, worked or lives. Now, something had changed, the ship had welcomed me as she understood why I was there. A heartbeat fills my ears, followed by a voice I would recognise wherever I was. It was my son saying goodbye.
It was a hot morning in the desert. The place was so dry I couldn’t believe any life would survive there. The soil was contaminated by radiation, the underground water also presented a high level of contamination. The sterile and solitary building was there only as a portal to the space station Earth II.
There are demons you will not be able to leave behind, even if you travel as far as to the Cygnus constellation. Cygnus lied in the plane of the milk way and is called the Northern Cross in opposite to the Southern Cross, you know the eternal necessity of human competition. The constellation blinking in the Earth night skies at a right ascension of 20.62h and declination +44.03º took its name of the Latinized word for swan.
It’s impossible not to see through the veil of lies waiving around me. They blink like fireflies engulfing the darkness only to create more. Those lies are webs attracting insects to the dead-end of death. My life is a lie.
