The Faraway Tomorrow and the Ineradicable Today

Astoria took quick steps—made sure her feet made no sound as she passed through the barrier. The floor was made of glass and even with her shoes off, a light patter could still be heard as she made her way across the room.

The area around her was dark. The Mazarine usually was at this time.

The Mazarine is a dome made of transparent glass—built by their Founders a thousand years ago as they tried to create a home that could protect them from the harsh planet they were currently in. The Founders had said that the Earth used to be a beautiful planet with an endless body of water that could drown even the tallest of skyscrapers but that the sun had scorched its entirety and soon enough, no human could bear to stand it anymore. And so they built the Mazarine to protect humans against the planet’s harsh climates.

Problem is, with no human beings roaming around, nature has reclaimed everything. Trees grew as tall as the Mazarine; vines crawled up to its sides and dust started to gather on top of the dome. Some even say that the Mazarine could now possibly be sunken underwater. No one knows why but sunlight has never made it inside the dome for hundreds of years now. Humans survive on Verina—a big round ball that mimicked the Sun's life-supporting properties. Every eight hours, it would be turned off. Astoria’s grandmother stated that it was done in order to emulate the way the Sun naturally works.

Everything that humans could ask for can be found in the Mazarine. Everything that nature could offer has been replicated and made better by technology. Even humans were constantly being perfected. Some could even go through sixty summers now without getting gray hair. Nothing wasn’t fixable and pristine.

Everything is perfect. Everything needed to be perfect. Imperfection warrants eradication. Animals are molded to be perfect—injected to be perfect. Humans are programmed to be perfect—chips are inserted, surgeries are done, medicines are drunk, all of that in order to be perfect.

Striving for perfection has become the essence of human existence.

Save for Astoria. Because in the dead of the night, as the Verina turns off and the world around her lulls into sleep, she takes off her shoes and walks to a secret place she and her grandmother share. Well, shared.

She tiptoed until she reached an enormous tree, going around the back and scratching at the dirt on the ground until she found a metal latch. She opened it up and walked in. Inside the dark room, paintings littered the place. It wasn’t like the perfect paintings that Artificial Intelligence created. It was all painted by hand, created by her grandmother as she passed her time. Every canvas illustrated what Earth was supposed to look like—what the world outside of Mazarine’s dome looked like.

Everything was green and blue and yellow and all other color combinations possible. The stones in the paintings were rough and had edges and a huge body of water lapped around them. Her grandmother said it was the sea. She said that the water was salty and that the sands beneath your feet could hurt and that the water could swallow you up. She said that it was nothing like the fabricated sea that can be found inside Mazarine. It wasn’t gentle and it wasn’t kind to humans but it was beautiful. So beautiful that no human creation could ever replicate it no matter how hard they try.

But the beautiful paintings on the wall weren’t what she came here for. And so with her head held high, she walked with purposive strides until she reached a white box in the middle of a table. It wasn’t anything fancy. In fact, it had no ornaments at all save for a clasp in front of it.

Pulling the clasp, she opened the box and was left to stare at a paper and pen inside the box. It looked like any other paper and pen—nondescript and plain.

She pulled the two materials out, sat down, and started to write.

10/26/5046

Dear Jessica,

How have you been? I hope the world has been kinder to you this year. It is now the third season here in Mazarine and the place has been getting increasingly cold. Sometimes, I find that my toes get numb as I walk along the concrete path. It has not even started snowing yet. I think the cold has nothing to do with the season and more to do with the Verina losing its power. I do not think the Mazarine is going to survive longer than twenty more summers at all.

I think this is the case because the Heralds have come to our house to bring news that the Founders have decided to search for a way out of the dome now. They said that we will be exploring the world outside of Mazarine in order to make a better world for us. To conquer it again—they have said. I think they are doing it because they have no other choice. It’s either we get stuck here in this dying dome, or we die trying to battle against the harsh nature waiting for us outside. Humans are too prideful to admit that the Mazarine isn’t as perfect as they initially thought it would be. Most of them couldn’t fathom when things didn't go their way.

How about you? How are you doing? From what I believe, you’re now in the year 2022, based on your last letter. Are you not? From what I’ve read in the archives, the books have stated that the year 2022 was interesting. The “COVID-19” pandemic has been easing up. They said things will get even better from there on. Is that right? I can only assume that it’s right because it has been what’s written in the newspaper archives in that same year. I hope your world becomes better soon.

Even with three summers of our correspondence, it still feels surreal to write letters to someone a thousand years behind me. But it’s comforting to know that the world wasn’t as boxed in before as it is now. That there was once a time when everything moved organically. That humans didn’t hold the answers for everything yet. That there was a time when perfection existed as nothing but a concept.

This may sound silly coming from me but I hope you enjoy the years ahead of you as they last. Focus on what you have now. The present is as beautiful as what the future holds, maybe even more so.

With love,

Astoria

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written & illustrated by Angel Caren Villajos

layout by Trisha Mirallo