He steps over rubble without even looking down, gaze aimed above. The art encased in the glass dome had finally disappeared a few days ago, as the system focused all its energy on conserving power. The faux sky that had been placed there was now gone, revealing more colors than he knew existed. So many stars twinkled across the darkness, other planets swirling in orbit just like them. “I can only wonder why they never allowed us to see the truth. Is it because of human’s ingrained thirst for more? If we knew this vast universe was right outside of our own man-made enclosures, we would destroy what we already had in our quest. Just like what happened years ago on Earth. That knowledge was wiped from the textbooks, but with no one else to stop me, it wasn’t a hard search. It started with an unknown pathogen that probably sprung up from some of the higher-ups experiments with plants. It weakened their lungs, and increased the melatonin levels in the victim’s brain. People feared they would sleep and just stop breathing. A vaccine was put into works immediately, and a mandate was put out requiring everyone to get the injection on that day. It was 6 months ago. Who knew the very vaccine they created to save us would have the very opposite effect? And who knew missing one day of school would save me? I was supposed to get the vaccine the day after, but when I woke up that morning…” “Here is our quality vegan burger, made only from plants grown here at our greenhouse!” Static coveres the next few words, before it clears out, “still tastes like meat.” “Thank you.” He muttered quietly out of habit. The food was made just as perfectly as always, and yet, it tasted so bland now. “Everyone had just keeled over where they stood, faces so peaceful like they were gonna wake up at any moment and say it was a joke.” He looked up at the waiter bot in front of him, as if waiting for a response. The robot’s eyes lit up as it hummed out a, “I hope you enjoy the meal!” He paused, staring solemnly at the half eaten burger. He left. There was one spot that brought him closest to the stars. It was a tower with a peak that almost reached the top of the dome, and a balcony wrapped around it. He sat there, eyes enraptured by the billions of lights. When he was in that spot, he found himself feeling content as he admired the vastness of the universe. He felt so small, so unimportant, and so weightless. The lights flickered. “Entering low power mode.” He watched as the whole city dimmed at once, and he gasped. Without the reflections off the glass dome, the stars shone a whole lot brighter. Low power mode would save enough energy for years to come; however, “3 minutes remaining until the oxygen runs out.” “I won’t be there to see it.”