Earthdate: October 14, 2089
Location: Donstand Station, Outer Ring - District 3 (Executive Sector)
Status: Pre-Launch Assignment
I signed the papers an hour ago. The tablet screen was warm under my fingers, a sharp contrast to the cold air pumping through the ventilation ducts of the station. They have officially designated me Mission Commander for the Mayflower after a couple of months the committee was mulling over the candidate list. It is a title that carries more weight than the rank pins they handed me, and I feel privileged to be chosen.
The Board Member who briefed me, Director Kincaid, spent thirty minutes talking about "civilizational imperatives" and the "legacy of the stars." She stood by the viewport looking down at Earth, which looked bruised and tired beneath the cloud layers. I mostly focused on the coffee in my hand, which was burnt and lukewarm, while she explained that I would effectively be the king of a world I will not see for sixty years.
The Centennial Decree has changed everything. We are no longer citizens of nations… We are stakeholders in a vacuum. Accepting this command means I am liquidating my terrestrial assets. My bungalow in Toronto, my small plot of land in the interior—all of it is being converted into Equity credits that I cannot spend until I wake up in another star system.
I am leaving Earth forever. It is a strange realization. I am trading the blue sky for a metal hull and a cryo-pod. Kincaid called it a "glorious burden," but as I walked back to my quarters, it mostly just felt like a job that requires a very long commute. I have three months to finalize the crew manifest before we lock the airlocks and burn for the edge of the system.