I overheard a couple old-timers reminiscing about the days when birds soared on high and airplanes took to the skies, back before kings vied to be gods, and I looked up into the vermillion sky.

I wish I knew if it was sunrise or sunset.

But ever since those megalomaniacal kings set the earth on fire, obliterating each other's thrones, there is no sun, only blood-stained heavens above.

Tomorrow, relocation begins.

Those young, healthy and virile enough will board space shuttles, destination Mars.

I'm a bit nervous, but excited.

I can't believe my baby will be the first native-born Martian.