Escape to Sunrise

The suns go up, the suns go down. That's all I know. I've left everything else behind.

It began with the new laws and regulations promoting tolerance. Nothing was right or wrong any more. The only thing that was wrong was to voice objections. Disagreement was labeled "hate speech", swiftly suppressed by therapy and mind-altering drugs. More and more people were zombified, wandering around with no ideas of their own.

The System, in its profitable wisdom, dictated what to think, what to do, what to be. If we served the needs of the System, we were rewarded with technology and additional screen time. Those who were unwilling or incapable faded out of existence. Nobody knew what became of them, but we were assured that it was for the best.

We were stripped of purpose, connection and fun. We existed only to be providers of desirable goods and services. There were no more parties, gatherings, or live performances. No games or arguments in the street. Nothing new under the sun. Just the endless boredom of uneventful perfection.

Family units deconstructed. Reproduction was directed and regulated by the System with no flesh-to-flesh contact. Fewer undesirables were born, and population gradually shrank to non-critical norms.

It was Paradise. Snakes were tactfully banished. No one needed anything.

When my great-uncle Siri died, he left me a small planet, the fourteenth in a binary solar system. He had a good nose for investments, and made the purchase before the planetary trade boomed.

He terraformed his domain and established a balanced ecosystem. He started spending more and more time there, living off the land and tinkering with the flora and fauna.  He named it Sunrise because there was one every four hours. He told me that he had fallen in love with his little kingdom, and couldn't refrain from interfering. He said that tending it had helped him to understand how God felt about her masterwork. The Ultimate Mother had birthed something beautiful and self-sustaining, but she could not resist the impulse to keep adding more and more, and fixing things that were not broken.

Great-uncle Siri’s five nephews and nieces, including my own mother, went to court to have the will overturned and force me to sell my inheritance and share the proceeds equally. Sunrise was worth billions by then, enough to make all of us major stockholders in the System's multiplanetary corporations. My lawyer was smarter, wealthier and better connected than theirs. He won my case. After I paid his bill, I had just enough cash to book a spot in a primitive cargo ship. The trip took two years. By that time, I had become accustomed to doing without amenities. I lived out of my suitcase and played my guitar to pass the time. I wrote poetry with vintage pencils until I ran out of paper.

I make my own paper now, from tree fibers. I am generally naked because the climate ranges from temperate to hot. No snowy winters here. I have considered climate modification strategies, but the possibility of unforeseen consequences have deterred me from carrying them out. I have woven a wardrobe from vegetable fibres and animal hair, just in case someone happens to drop by.

I consider the animals my friends, and treat them well. From time to time I kill and eat a few to re-balance the population, but most of my diet is vegetarian.

My last will and testament, printed on Everlast vellum which is guaranteed to resist damage or decomposition for millennia, is tucked under my mattress. I have left everything to the Cosmic Wilds Society, in the hope that Sunrise can continue to be a refuge for those who yearn for something more than what their home planets offer them. I have little faith in the integrity of whoever finds this indestructible document, but at least they will find it difficult to make it disappear. My wishes should count for something in this one-size-fits-all universe where only the most autocratic System moguls have the right to free will.

I no longer know how old I am in Earth years, or in Sunrise years.  I feel my body deteriorating, little by little. In due course, I will die and decompose naturally without the help of rituals, chemicals, or technology. That thought does not frighten me as much as the possibility that a gunship will arrive some day with a contingent of settlers eager to impose civilization on my private paradise. I lacked the foresight to bring a second suitcase with a supply of explosives.  My manufacturing attempts have been unsuccessful so far. I don't seem to have a talent for destruction.

The suns go up, the suns go down. That's all I need.