*Cough, Cough* The haggard man slices roots off the vast outcroppings of trees to secure his meal for the day. Tired, sweaty, unkempt, the greenery surrounding him moved with his every breath. In and out, step by step, he made it to the heart of the forest which held his home.

“Ojun!” He shouted, the deep timbre of his voice resonating throughout the overgrown camp. A long haired, bronze skinned child, around eleven or twelve years old ran out from his room, leather bound notebook in hand. He jumped and hugged the man, eyeing the treasure he held in his large hands he began to drool.

“Calm Ojun. Have you kept up with your studies since I was gone?”

“Yes Father, I even got to Quadratics!” Ojun responded in kinds, raising up his notebook like it was a prize. Content, the father sets the roots on the table with a smile, the chalkboard sitting in the front room adorned with equations and time tables the man tutored Ojun with. Time passed to night as the two dine, bringing each other up to speed about the things they experienced in their time apart. As Ojun’s bedtime grew closer, he plead,

“Please father! I love that story! Just one more time I promise!” He bargains holding tightly onto his notebook.

“Fine!” he says, tired but playful. “Back on Earth, there was more than just us and the forest Ojun. Yes, there were statues and buildings as tall as the trees that cover out stars, vehicles we made that flew us through the sky as if we were lighter than air. Machines were everywhere, the opposite of how it is here Ojun, it was like they became a part of us. They’re even what got us here,” He proceeds, flashing a half-smile before letting it drop just as fast. “Your father was one of those people that made machines. Putting them together, telling them what to do through codes and commands. We had a team, and that team, through many years of effort led us to the stars, and that’s all we have time for today bud.”

He got up with a huff, and patted Ojun on the head. Walking out, he retired to his room for the night. Ojun laid still, staring at the ceiling as the moonlight shown on his face. He opens his notebook revealing detailed illustrations of the world his father described to him at night. Nearly filled, unbeknownst to his father, there wasn’t an equation to be found in that book.