A massive spaceship started its engines on the runway. The air was sandy despite having no wind and the ground shook constantly as if in a constant state of minor earthquake. In pairs of two, reminiscent of the Ark of old, but this appearance was purely for order sake. Filling the spaceship from front to back in rows two wide had been policy for over a decade. That was when the doctors lawyers and other prestige professions.
Martin was in line as he felt the ground below him rumble even harder. There was about to be another fissure. A great cracking sound started as if ripping through the imagination before ending in a deathly roar. A divine hand was ripping a chasm in the earth and the distance it travelled this time would break any record – if records of these commonplace occurrences were kept. They weren’t kept because statisticians and scientists no longer lived on Earth; they had already settled in another solar system and were unconcerned with such metrics. Martin was impressed with the fissure, because as long as they didn’t open on him he didn’t so much mind them. They were beautiful to look. If you looked close enough, you could see the many different layers of earth and rock.
In was thundering in the hazy, swirling atmosphere, and as Martin sat in his assigned seat he realized he’d miss Earth. Martin was an amateur writer. There had been no room for him on the ships that left with the creatives, and even if there had been space, they would surely not let in an amateur. As it was, he was grateful for the opportunity to see Earth’s last possible moments. He had seen things and could write things that none of the ones who left earlier could even imagine.
The ship accelerated, pushing Martin deep into his seat and leaving him nauseated. There were no windows on the ship, so Martin imagined it blurring by at impossible speeds. Earth’s time was finished, but mankind would find ways to ruin the next planet thought Martin as he let his mind wander.