Our home is a shallow image of what it once was. Leaving everything behind to flee fills me with great shame, but what else was I supposed to do? Die there?

Sand was the last thing we thought would tear us apart. Being a planet of primarily snow and ice, sand and heat were the last thing that could show up. But God is a cruel, cruel man.

I remember it like it was yesterday. Scientists begged us to listen, to stop our elemental studies. But why would we listen to them? We had a vision, and by God we were going to achieve that vision. All we had to do was condense the radioactive mess underneath our feet. But of course, it went wrong. And of course, people think its my fault. Of course, of course.

And as I sit on this spaceship, cold to the bone, I loath everything about the future. Everyone wants me dead. But those people are dead, swallowed by the shifting sea of sand. And as I hold my five-month-old daughter close to my chest, I have to wonder.

How am I going to explain her missing mother?