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This story is a continuation FROM, which starts HERE…
April 2, 2019
Each day of travel takes our age, and people upon returning can’t tell the difference. In communication with others, they seek peace as well, however, they seek it in places we don’t quite see from Earth. They seek a peace that forever secures their happiness; meaning, the question alone tells us they don’t trust us. Like one’s father, people are chosen to get a job done; until death they are told. At some point they feel untouchable, bearing a side unrelatable to most people. Their short tasks in itself deem them unforgettable.
One’s father never reminisced his birth place after saying, “fuck that place, home is not a place, just a mere thought in space…” A rant that became the beginning to an end.
The Buzz-Lightyears of society, masters of time-travel, who also veer into the oblivion, fix shit, for information from tomorrow to be put into the intelligence of our people. Knowing the people of Earth must concur with safety and love for survival, meant trust would be priority. So, to work these time-travelers went. And death, too, they must repent. The return of our Ambassadors meant the others existed. But where art thou?
Although unheard clearly, one Ambassador who responded was symbolic. And by those entering as cadets of intergalactic time travel, somehow understood them, in which they are also aware who’s going to make it back to Earth. Port Avanti is the best place to build the beacon. As so, one’s son was sent their to begin whenever he can.
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