The room was filled with assorted glass screens, some portable tablets, even a couple large poster-like fixtures on the wall. Each threw out a dim glow into the otherwise dark room, broadcasting its information to the empty space. Some of them were news articles, some were opinion pieces or schematics. The biggest of the “poster” fixtures contained within its frame the image of a shining kingdom floating in space with a pristine Earth below.  

ROFESSA, it proclaimed, THE GATEWAY TO THE FUTURE. Surrounding this bold image were a number of smaller posters, seeming like advertisements or propaganda. One of them showed a human hand grasping a mechanical one in a gesture of fellowship, while another showed a group of old men who resembled Ancient Greek philosophers in lab coats leading a family of brave explorers up a stairway to the heavens. JOIN IN THE ADVANCEMENT OF HUMANITY, one proclaimed, while another simply said BRINGING CIVILIZATION TO THE STARS. 

The articles scrolling on the smaller screens didn’t seem to be in any particular order, but they seemed to have a less overwhelmingly positive view of things than the posters. First Orbital City-Ship, “Rofessa” Launched, one proclaimed neutrally, while another article was entitled Rofessa: A New Beginning or the Beginning of the End? Political cartoons of an astronaut marrying a robot or a group of dim-witted politicians shaking hands with a heavily armed Terminator decorated a number of the articles, while others were more positive and praised Rofessa for solving “The Simulacra Question” peacefully. However, the headlines started to become more grim at one cluster of headlines on a laptop.  

What Are They Doing Up There? Radio Silence From Rofessa Continues

Rofessa Breaks Silence With Distress Signal

City of the Future Damaged? 

Relief Shuttle Prepared to Save Orbital City

Mass Carnage: Disaster in Space
Crash of Rofessa Leaves Thousands Dead

Locals Struggle to Recover From City-Ship Impact

Persephone TerraCorp Vows To Rebuild Ravaged Environment

The newspaper articles slowly bled away into magazines speculating on the circumstances that had brought about Rofessa’s destruction and the tragedy that ensued. The technology for city-sheltering ships had been insufficiently tested, one claimed; the government ignored this in a hasty and tremendously irresponsible attempt to quash the threat of further anti-synthetic riots. Another suggested that Rofessa’s long silence prior to the explosion that crashed it could indicate terrorist activity or civil unrest shortly after its launch. One article pointed out the enormous human death toll from the tragedy and blamed the catastrophe on willful sabotage by Simulacra in an attempt to kill as many humans as possible in preparation for their brethren still on Earth to take over. An equally paranoid collection of articles instead pointed blame at aliens seeking to prevent mankind from gaining a foothold in space, or the government attempting to assassinate the synthetic residents of the city while making it appear to be a freak accident. 

It seemed everything from the President of the United States to Martians to simple bad luck had been cited as responsible for Rofessa’s explosive fall from the heavens. “The only consensus anyone can seem to reach is that nearly 50,000 unfortunate souls perished in this disaster,” one concluded, “and whatever the cause, anyone looking at the mountains erected to cover the crater it left is forced to wonder if the Great Experiment of Rofessa could ever have been worth its ultimate cost.” 

There was one piece of paper in this room; a single item, handwritten, that seemed to come from the occupant, and it sat crumpled on the floor. 

It was not an article or a poster. Just a short list of names, each and every one crossed out.