Transmissions from Sienna

2432-10-08.478 Fri

Hey Mom,

This is weird. I know there’s no way for you to possibly receive this, but I’ve been thinking a lot since breakfast and I’m ready to transmit to you. I know you prefer paper transmissions, but paper is now hard to come by and I’ve lost confidence with my writing ability.

Today I took your heart-shaped locket to get evaluated. On the way it slipped through an elevator shaft, and I had to tweeze it through a cyclone fence. The hinge was intact, two golden hearts aligned with our initials. I snapped it back and a strange pulse reverberated. Now I’m wondering what it meant.

I hope you’re not upset. There is so much I want to tell you.

Miss you, x

Sienna

2432-10-10.512 Tues

I’ve named this directory “The Doomsday Diary.” Do you like it? I transmit to you only when life is unbearable. This afternoon I rummaged through Dad’s old cupboard and found the most peculiar calendar, which had seven days. All our birthdays were circled, but mine said something like Satday, when my birthday always falls on Monday.

I love how it measured the moon cycles. Some nights I want to escape outside. By age thirty, I wish to be a wise old mystic who navigates the world by following the stars. Underneath the calendar was some odd-looking plate with numbers and pointers. My friend Alice tells me it’s a clock, and that you used to count to twelve. Dad always said you were old-fashioned, but he’s the sentimental one for keeping it.

I wonder what other secrets of yours I’ll be able to find.

10.743

Upon inspecting the locket, I found a tiny engraving that states it was made here. A perfect reminder of home.

2432-10-11.412 Wed

You’re probably wondering what I’m up to. Last Year I graduated in Biosphere Remediation, and I currently work the evening shift at The Exchange. It’s one of the only places to hang out, so my friends Tom and Alice always visit. Easy to get to, a few floors down and walk a hundred meters.

Dad works at the electronics recycle plant, bringing new life to old objects. He’s been redeployed to a defunct one they’re excavating, and it’s a two-hour commute. Says he suffers a bit of radiation exposure, but no worse than asbestos mining in the twentieth century. I wonder if it’s linked to his baldness.

The nuclear winter won’t leave. Sometimes workers bring in the snow. They must be super vigilant and decontaminate the area. Plenty of cities with horror stories.

Dad used to mention you a lot more and tell me about your adventures. Either we’ve covered them all, or he’s just tired. I’m sure he still misses you.

11.700

This time the locket opened (sorry, I prised the latch). I felt its pulse overcome me, and I was transported into a vivid image of you when you were my age. We were happy. I must have passed out, it’s seven now. I don’t think Dad would be happy if he knew I was borrowing it.

2432-10-12.626 Thur

Virtual rainforests are very boring, though my degree only used simulations. I’m considering visiting the national biodome or taking the metro to the Grand Canyon. I talked with a travel agent yesterday, and they recommend sunglasses to go under the HAZMAT suit. In case you’re wondering, I still have the travel allowance, it’s just I don’t share your love of cities. I might meet people, but re-purposed mines all look the same.

Of course, any form of travel is expensive. Dad isn’t too keen on me spending all my savings on a few hours outside. He thinks it’s extravagant and joked he could give me an above-ground tour of his work for free.

I saw pictures of us at the zoo, I must have been about three. Here we’ve been waiting for a zoo to be built for ten years, but they say a cow with two-heads is worth waiting for. Despite the snow and the lack of human intervention, land-roaming animals thrive. It’s hard to believe, but even the maple-leaf oaks are returning. I simply must see them. Last Friday I was offered a good price for the locket, and I’m tempted to take it.

2432-10-13.471 Fri

I clean the floor daily. Still, I find cockroaches.

13.522

I may have found the best way to make my outdoors trip a reality. Tom, Alice and I were discussing quick investment schemes over some five-hundred-millilitre small-batch sours. We reckon if we pool our savings and invest in livestock and CageTech, within a year chicken and eggs will again be edible, and we’ll be rich. Could be sooner, depending on gene editing.

2432-10-14.579 Mon

I had a dream I was naked, following an inclined forest path. The breeze soothed my muddy skin. I reached onto moonlit tree branches to propel me, as an owl hovered ahead, directing me to the summit. I lit a fire and stayed till sunrise. I felt reconnected with the world, just as I have been reunited with you.

14.662

I opened your locket again. It makes so much more sense. It’s not just your memories, it’s also your consciousness – or at least a simulation. I don’t think I’m ready to speak to it, or is it you? I mean, I’m scared. It’s too real. Maybe, when I’m ready to share, actually share, I will resend these transmissions to your address.

2432-10-15.630 Tues

Dad’s home early. He was pale. He barely said a word.

15.693

He’s shut himself in his room again.

2432-10-16.423 Wed

I spent last night with Tom and Alice. Tom works in manufacturing and says they’re unable to meet the quota for new technology. The electronics reserves from our rubbish dump have been depleted. I’m scared Dad could lose his job.

Alice says there’s work available at the desalination plants, and he won’t have to travel as far.

16.813

Spoke to Dad. I just can’t believe it. They’re going ahead with the manufacturing order and need gold. They’ve asked anyone with lockets or jewellery to return them. I don’t want to lose you.

2432-10-17.574 Thur

I dreamt your locket plummeting from the scaffolding, down into a foundry ladle. My memories seeped from my head as I watched you melt. You’re still here, under my pillow.

But I’m forbidden to keep you. There must be a way. I should tell Dad, we could both lie. Surely some people have lost their keepsakes. But to tell Dad, would be to admit what I’ve done. Maybe I can pay to keep you. I’m going to see what Alice and the others think.

17.911

Dad’s cupboard is mostly bare, except for the moon calendar. My bags are empty, strewn over my sheets. My clothes piled on the floor. You’re not here.

2432-10-18.403 Fri

Most households, including ours, have had their possessions scrapped. Not your heart-shaped locket, Dad wouldn’t allow it. He’s assisting with the reprogramming. You’ll survive as someone else’s loved one.

18.870

I’m donating my headset too.

X

[Command: Wipe memory].

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