Everything was gray. Pollution caused the atmospheric condition so long ago that everyone on Earth took it for granted now. There was neither sunlight to warm nor any rain clouds to cry their sweet tears over land.� Not that it mattered anyway for neither sun nor rain nor sleet nor snow were needed. All was man-made; all was gray.

�Free-Earth was a barren wasteland, completely devoid of all life. Utterly uninhabitable. No plants grew in the flat expanse and no breeze stirred the mounds of sand that covered much of the globe.� Silver Cities were the only places on the planet where life flourished. Huge sparkling cities, they were, completely made of crystal and steel. Each city was encased in an atmospheric bubble that generated man-made rain to water man-made fields and fill man-made waterways. The Silver Cities were crowded, but beautiful; the pentacle of human achievement as the world knew it. They were also expensive, a luxury that not everyone could afford.

� For the unfortunates, the colonies in space were created. Large, free-floating metallic spheres that orbited the earth like man-made moons.� There, the middle class and poor were isolated from higher-class society; sorted and categorized as one would file records away.

And then, there was the Lost Colony; the first colony ever attempted in space. It was old, it was small, and it was on the far side of the moon. When it had first been created, (perhaps before, perhaps after the world went gray with smog, few can really remember and few really care) it was hailed as a major scientific advancement and the rich immediately flocked to it as a vacation locale. Now, what was once a jewel in the glorious colonial crown lay outdated and virtually forgotten, inhabited only by a few dedicated scientists and outcasts who did not wish to fit in anywhere else. There, though everything was still man-made, things were simple and people were allowed to live unhindered. There, one could find precious solitude and revel in it. There, one could see the stars�

Back down on Earth, in one of the largest of all the Silver Cities, in one of the largest Silver manors, a lone, silhouetted figure sat staring morosely at an immense view-screen. A montage of pictures appeared in random intervals, all showing scenes from the Lost Colony. Suddenly, an image of the moon colony grazed by sunlight filled the screen, lighting the room for a moment. The flash of brightness revealed a young pensive girl with short-cropped red hair and limpid blue eyes. She extended an arm to reach out and brush her fingers against the flat, cool screen, but the picture faded before she could touch it, quickly replaced by another random image.

She sighed, then glanced around the gray, shadowed room. Running her fingers through her hair to brush the untamable bangs from her eyes, she sighed again. "Lights!" she ordered in flat voice.

The lights immediately began to turn themselves up. "Yes, Jagar." A lilting, but computerized voice replied.

Jagar squinted at the sudden harshness then let out a hollow chuckle as her eyes took in the monochrome color scheme that made up her room. Monotony. That was a good word to describe her life. Monotonous. Unchanging, barren, bleak. Boring.� Everything was superficial and everything came for a price. She was the youngest daughter in one of the richest families on-planet or off; she had more money than most people in the Space Colonies put together and yet all the money in the universe could not buy what she really wanted--peace and contentment.

Instead she was trapped inside a gilded cage of her own making, struggling futilely for peace where none could be found. The world around her was too caught up in frivolous pursuits to care that they lacked all depth and meaning. Jagar longed for freedom, longed for meaning. And she knew where she could find the answers to all of the problems--it was only a matter of getting there.

With a set face, and firm resolution, Jagar stood from her cowed position and ran her fingers longingly over the telescreen once more, before striding silently across her metallic chamber of a room. She strode over to her bed and gathered the things that were laying there--a small bag holding only strict necessities and a purse containing enough money to start a new life. With a slight nod, Jagar moved to leave the room, possessions in hand. "Lights. Off," she whispered.

"Yes, Jagar." The voice stated, unchanged. Monotonous, just like everything else. The room grew cloaked in darkness and shadow once more, and in a manner much like that of a shadow, Jagar slipped from the room and steeled herself for the uncertainties that she knew would lie ahead. She knew where she had to go to be free; the glow from the obscured moon called to her from space and she was prepared to answer that call.

Though she was still felt lost, Jagar knew that making her way to the Lost Colony was the only way she could ever hope to be found.

tbc?