park jimin longs for change and for what lies beyond his polluted, murky sky.
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herein lies jimin's adventures among a starship, gloss, capturing criminals with his newfound bounty hunter acquaintances and finding love in a man he...
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EARTH NEW SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA CIRCA 6018
Earth was somewhat of a forgotten relic. The planet was withering away on its axis and weighed down with those suffering from nostalgia and sentimentality. The planet thrived in riches and amassed wealth like one couldn't imagine, but it was cluttered in hazy smog and smothered in lost possibilities.
Earth was of the slums despite its fortunes. Those with enough money to attain personal banking vaults lived above the cities in hoverable ports or atop steep hillsides, while the rest of the population scurried about the cities like contaminated rodents. Park Jimin was not fortunate enough to own acres of air-space ports, nor was he wealthy enough to live on even the lowest portion of the hillside.
His home consisted of a man-made dwelling on the seaside, just underneath a weathered and rotting pier alongside several other people. He bitterly thought of them as his fellow tenants; neighbors, if you will. The sea smelled of sewage and decay, but it was far better than the constant foul, burning and flesh rotting stench that clung to the streets of the cities. Everyone who lived on the ground were slowly wasting away, just as their planet was.
There were countless nights were jimin would lay upon the gravelly sand that was more litter than sediment, staring up at the thick, clouded sky and listening to his comm. The communication device was outdated and worked only on what Jimin called 'good days', but it provided him with hope that one day, by chance, he would make it off this forsaken and forlorn planet. Earth could have been beautiful if selfish greed hadn't stripped away her beauty.
So, there jimin laid just like every night, underneath the controlled pollution that was Earth's atmosphere, with his beaten down, terracotta comm beside his head. The voice reporting back the news on the surface of the surrounding planets was that of static and the occasional white noise from loss of clear communication airways.
The in and out of the reporter's voice no longer irked jimin, who knew the interruptions were due to the ongoing space traffic and the fact that his old radio device couldn't filter out the excess as well as the newer, better functioning comms. He was glad he at least owned one. For a ground-crawler, he was lucky for a lot of things.
It was passed midnight. Jimin always counted the hours from after the meal rations were dropped off into the city to tell the time. The nightly meal had came a bit later today; pushing on ten o'clock rather than nine. He had to race towards the officers and fight his way through the ravenous crowd to make sure he was given something to satiate his ever present hunger.
There were a few times Jimin missed a meal due to being late or the crowd surging forward and on top of one another. They were something similar to trained carnivorous beasts, the blaring alarm of the meal rations calling out their inner dog. Jimin couldn't help but think Pavlov would have mixed feelings about this outcome. He's seen people die just to get a meal, as the portions were relatively small and they were only feed thrice a day.
