| Generated by Google Gemini Pro text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3.1 |
August 20, 2526. The crowd stands before the monitors as they watch the
breaking news feed. They were pushing each other around, trying to get into
the train, but that has all stopped now. The handful of people who were
already let through are watching the news too. “Tragedy struck at the train
station underneath Summerspring Dome sixteen minutes ago. A domaquake shook
the platform and caused several support beams to collapse. The vacuum tube
was weakened, and ultimately imploded due to the stress. A current count of
815 people were killed in the implosion. Experts are currently working on
ways to mitigate the damages that these seismic events have on our
infrastructure. One new procedure they will be implementing is single-pod
travel. No longer will pods be linked together. They are mapping the quake
patterns, and determining optimal safe launch windows so this never happens
again. Furthermore, polar leadership recognizes the magnitude of the crisis,
and is preparing to receive evacuees, but stresses that resources are low.
If you live between the 40th parallels, on either side of the equator, you
are urged to evacuate to the higher regions of the Terminator Line. If you
are northward of the 40th parallel in the northern hemisphere, or southward
in the southern hemisphere, you are being asked to shelter in place for now
so that your friends and neighbors in the more volatile regions can make use
of the vactrain tubes.
“Some trains are being sent to the poles, while others will be stopping
along the way. You are asked to accommodate any evacuees, providing them
with food and shelter while we work towards more permanent solutions to this
extreme adversity. Experts and leaders would like to remind you that what
happened in Summerspring Dome is a tragic but rare event, and assures the
public that the vast majority of the vactrain network is safe for travel. To
quote the Administrative Council of the southern pole’s official statement:
‘The equatorial regions are quickly becoming uninhabitable, and the southern
pole is extending a helping hand towards all displaced communities. Please
remember that we are all Proxima Domanians, and a respectful and orderly
evacuation is paramount for the safety and survival of us all.’ Comforting
words from someone already living in the safe zone, who didn’t have to watch
their loved ones die, and their homes get swallowed up by the crust.” He
looks off camera, presumably at an angry producer, and clears his throat.
The anchor sits there for a moment in silence, staring into the lens. “Get
out. Get out now. Every dome comes equipped with massive land vehicles. If
you can’t get in a train, go! Just go! Even if you live in the middle
regions, save yourse—” The feed cuts off.
The crowd stands there silently as the images return to the basic weather
information for their own dome. The whispers grow louder and louder,
threatening to turn this relatively peaceful crowd into a clamoring mob. The
Regent is here to coordinate the evacuations. As this area of the planet is
not too terribly dangerous right now, the process has gone okay. “Now, hold
on!” he cries to quiet everyone down. “There are plenty of vacuum tubes to
get everyone out. We will not leave you here. But we will be slowing
down the process to make way for the equatorials.”
“You saw what happened!” a rabble rouser shouts. “These tubes aren’t safe
anymore!”
“No, they are safe,” the Regent insists. “We have not been
experiencing what the others have been. I promise you, they will hold.”
“The tubes are all connected!” another person argues. “If you damage one
closer to the equator, it can have an impact on it all the way out here!”
“That’s not how it works,” the Regent contends. “We will be taking the
trains. It’s the only way. There aren’t enough land vehicles for everyone,
that is not an option.”
“Did you hear that, everyone? There aren’t enough vehicles! We better go now
before someone else gets them!” That’s it, that’s all it takes. The swarm of
evacuees turn and rush out in the opposite direction. The people who managed
to get on the train fall in line behind them. They all run up the stairs,
and out of the station. The Regent tries to calm them down, and bring them
back, but his voice is drowned out by the heavy footsteps, and is also just
ignored. He doesn’t need the stairs. He simply steps backwards, and enters
the executive elevator, which he takes back up to the surface.
They are in the main station now. None of the sprinters is explaining why it
is they’re running, but it looks scary, so everyone up there just starts
running alongside them on instinct. The Regent shakes his head. These people
have no clue where they’re going. Those land vehicles were made for specific
purposes. You don’t just hop in one, and take a trip because you feel like
traversing the treacherous terrain outside the dome. He doesn’t understand
exactly where they think they’re headed. He continues to rise in the
transparent elevator, up to the roof of the station. He watches them rush
out of the building, towards the perimeter, which is a couple of kilometers
away from here.
His pilot is walking towards the elevator platform, wiping the grease off of
her hands as she watches the army of panicking ants as well. “You’re early,
sir.”
“Is it ready to go?” he asks, still watching the people who he was supposed
to represent desperately trying to figure out where these fabled cars are.
“Yeah, she’s prepped and ready. Your family’s inside.”
“Then we’re leaving now.”
She shakes her head. “My guy’s not in place to open the airlock.”
“Punch through it.”
“Sir, I’m not gonna do that. The toxic air will kill anyone who isn’t killed
by the razor rain.”
The Regent takes out his gun and points it at her head. “Punch...through
it.”
“Fine, fine,” the pilot agrees. “My co-pilot isn’t here yet either, though,
so I’m gonna need someone sitting next to me to flip a few switches.”
“I can do that, just get us the hell out of here.” They walk over to the
VTOL rocket and climb inside, passing his wife and kids on the way to the
cockpit. His children smile at him, not understanding the gravity of the
situation, but he doesn’t smile back.
“Shut that hatch behind us, and press the button in the top corner.”
“It says SOUND DAMPENER,” he points out, not sure why they would need
that.
“Yeah, that’s the one,” she confirms. “Then sit right there and look for a
yellow lever sandwiched between the seat and the hull.”
He pushes it, then sits down and fumbles around for the lever. “I don’t see
it.”
While he’s turned away, the pilot shoots him in the head. “I’m
not...punching through the dome.” She proceeds to sit there quietly for
another few hours until her people are in place for a safe and ethical
launch.
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