It had been my dream since the age of 8, when my parents had bought a big case full of ancient National Geographic magazines from Ms. McKinley’s semiannual yard sale. In them were pictures of civilizations I had never known, astounding views of the night sky, and glorious depictions of an entire world, all at my fingertips.
They were all from Earth, of course; good old third-from-Sol, the seat of humanity’s empire. Still, I had a planet of my own to explore. I decided then to be an adventurer and to travel the world. I wanted to see places no human had ever reached before.
Today was to be my finest moment. I had left base camp almost two days ago, in the middle of the night to avoid waking my team. I wanted this moment to be unsullied by other people’s presence.
Satellite photos of this area had astonished the world -so high, above the frost line, a pristine paradise lay at the peak of our highest mountain. Explanations ran from a byproduct of our inconsistent atmosphere to an accident of terraforming. There were some settlers at the base of the mountain. Mostly inbred back-to-the-landers who turned their back on the rest of society, organizing themselves into tribal family units, who avoided the empire as much as possible. But from all accounts civilization hadn’t made it this far up.
I was close to the top now. Small plants were turning into great bushes were turning into forests, still growing somewhat thinly. In fact, they almost seemed regular in their spacing -likely because of the fierce competition for resources, above the clouds, where rainfall didn’t happen.
Finally, I came to a cliff, and looked out upon a beautiful view.
I cried. I cried like a child, dropping to my knees and wailing. My dream was false, ruined. For there, as the second peak jutted out from the side of the mountain, was a bridge. A hut. And standing in the sun, shaking out their clothes to place on the line to dry –
A family.
Written for this prompt
Reading Cactus 