My mind raced. The sun was exploding - it was a fact. The sun was exploding - I couldn't wrap my mind around the idea. My only thought was, we must get out. How? The Martial colonies were still too close; we would have to be expelled from the vicinity of our solar system altogether. The upper class could accomplish this easily enough, but y family was not what was conventionally considered upper class. If we'd just now been told the facts, how did the Officials expect evacuation to happen? And the countless flora and fauna of the forests and cities, what of them? I knew, at least, that they were being thought of - that we were being thought of. I did not have so little faith.
Ignoring the shouts of my parents over the television set, I slid on my jacket and quietly exited the apartment. I noticed a reporter say, over the siren-like blare of the child in its crib, that one fleet of craft was to take off tonight (at the homes of their owners, of course), and an Official Agent was at most several blocks north of my residence. I walked briskly, ignoring the lumps of huddled humanity clutching bottles and covered in dark cloth. I easily scaled the estate fence, with only a superficial scrape as evidence. My climb up the cold wires and short vault over and down onto the dark lawn set off the alarm, which went ignored. I trod across the cold, dewy grass of the yard and followed the lights to the platform teeming with reporters and servants, reminiscent of migratory salmon, or bees perhaps. I reached one reporter, placing a hand on the shoulder of the pinstriped suit. He quickly turned. I tried to shout my question above the clamor of living beings, but his look of scorn at my disheveled appearance brought me to halt. I squirmed away from him, more towards the spacecraft (it was easier for me, being little). Suddenly, there were no bodies pressing on mine; I was surrounded by empty air, and the Official himself was walking toward me. As he approached, I grabbed his shirtsleeve. He tried to lose the parasitic little boy at first, then turned to stare. Other eyes turned imperiously towards the small, scraggly thing clinging to their Official. I swallowed. My heart's pounding was weakening my legs, and I swayed a little.
"You can leave, but what about everybody else? When you don't own a plane, what then? What of the animals, the plants, the people who live between the buildings, not in them? What happens; who takes care of them?"
The official had been questioned all night, and remained calm and persuasive.
Now, his eyes widened in a panicked fright. His mouth opened slightly as if without his knowledge, and his breathing was suddenly coarse and audible to all in the silent stillness. His breaths were desperate, ragged. His eyes locked with mine for a few seconds. He gave a piercing look, then turned, walked away, led by his escort onto the walkway and from there into the ship. I was left alone with the imprint of his gaze, a question answered far more clearly than any had feared.

3.22.2002