Ground Two

The Healing

Lumina's Holo buzzed in her pocket. Slowly, she slid the thin, glass rectangle from its spot. Incoming Transmission, it read. She thumbed accept.

The leader of Nasa appeared on the small screen. Lumina took note of his dress and composure. His silvery hair and beard were trimmed, combed, and neat. His clothes – dark blue blazer, white dress shirt, and blue, silver striped tie – where straight and without unnecessary wrinkles. He sat, hunched forward, elbows on the mahogany desk, hands clasped, and fingers gnashed. His lips quirked into a smile, his eyes lit with glee. His hands spread out towards the screen, his lips spreading and vocals warming, ready to disperse exciting news.

But first...

"I send greetings to all civilization dwelling upon Ground Two," the man said, his voice like that of a squirrel's squeal, but with a thick, German accent. His hand rose, his fingers uncurling, his palm flattening, and waved at the camera.

Lumina rolled her eyes. The guy's manner and speech disgusted her. It was all hoity-toity like; saying Ground 2 like it was rubbish.

"Now," he continued, clearing his throat. "I'm sure you're all wondering why I called from here on Ground 1."

Again, Lumina rolled her eyes. Hmm? Let me guess. To brag about how great your life is on that section compared to our ravaged wasteland?

"I know I'm on another world, peaceful, beautiful, but drifting aimlessly in the void of space. Fresh oxygen thrives here rather than your ravaged wasteland, but we have received good news for you inhabitants of Ground 2."

The man went on to talk about the separation of Earth. How that, on the very night of June 14th, the globe began to quake under people's feet, and cracks, like rumbles of thunder, split the air. In places like North and South America, Canada, the two poles, and Australia, a bright orange light appeared from the core through a crevice that only those in the affected area and from space could see. Eventually, the intense heat of the core was what split the Earth into two. "And now," the man said, his hand upon the middle of his chest, a solemn expression upon his face, "we float here in deep space, some exiled from their family and friends."

Lumina blinked back tears of rage, angry at the man for reminding her of the day she was separated from her parents. Her hand was wrapped tightly around the Holo, a crack spider-webbing into the middle of the screen.

She loosened her grip a little.

With a heavy sigh, the man continued. "But now to the good news. It has been said that your atmosphere has repaired itself. Oxygen now thrives on your half of the planet. There is no more need for your pathetic oxygen masks. You are free to breath as you did nineteen years ago." A cry of cheers rose up from behind the camera. The man seemed pleased with himself. Then, the broadcast stopped.

Lumina stared at the dark screen, her mind at work. She was suspicious of his character – the man, a charmer in his ways, a wearer of flowery speech.

"So, what would you like to tell the crowd Lumina?" A man asked from behind her.

"Nothing of this broadcast," Lumina replied. "Not until we've tested the atmosphere ourselves. There is no need to endanger the people if the statement is false."

"While you were watching, I did send for a test," the man replied.

Lumina turned around in her seat, her arm sitting atop the backrest. She locked eyes with the man. Curiously, she asked, "What did it says?"

"The atmospheric pressure was there. Then the first oxygen test recorded positive."

"The second one?"

"Positive as well ma'am."

Lumina looked away, slouching in her seat. The cracked Holo still showed the black screen. She tapped the edge of the glass surface with her index finger.

"What would you like us to do Lumina?"

Lumina touched a hand to the small, clear tubes running up her top lip and into her nostrils. Her fingers curled around both. "I'm going to see for myself," she answered.

Lumina yanked the two tubes from her nostrils. A small prick of the tubes unlatching from their places set off a burning sensation that shot down her lungs. She gasped for oxygen in the surrounding air. She gasped and gasped until, finally, her hand fell to her chest, her nostrils flaring, her heart beating its normal rhythm.

"It's true," Lumina said, her voice normal, free from the tubes that once muffled it. "Heinz was telling the truth."