009. Exodus

Things moved quickly after that, Garrad mused.

Only days later, the first of the new starliners left the Coreworlds for parts unknown. Dispatches from the frontier and Project Centennial had an iron grip on people’s imaginations. Folks started leaving Aglostarros in their hundreds. Thide finally stopped watching those blasted sitcoms, but only so he could read from those blasted travel guides.

“Listen,” he’d say. “There’s this planet, Dor, what’s made outta solid diamond!”

“It’s called ‘Door’?” Garrad would half-joke. “Why not just name it ‘Come on in, it’s nice here, we promise!’? Besides, you can’t eat diamond.”

Thide left soon enough. Went to seek his fortune on Dor, or some other world from those blasted guides. The new guy was too quiet. Heck, everything was quiet - not at the Museum, but in Garrad’s apartment building. The Foths from next door had moved to Adene, a farming colony. His favourite deli had closed; Mr Ellan was off feeding the masses. Garrad missed falling asleep to the music from upstairs.

He’d been raised better than to wallow in self-pity, however. Eventually he visited a travel agent who assigned him to the planet Indroskir, an iceball with some temperate regions created by volcanic activity. Not too hot or too cold, just like Garrad preferred.

Now here he was, stars speeding before his eyes. Everything was changing, and Garrad didn’t know whether he would be able to keep up. He just hoped that someone would still need a night guard in Space.