After the collapse, after the bombs fell and the earth was scarred, the great rebuild began. From vast bunkers drilled into bedrock came giant machines – teeth boring through the ruins and enormous treads compacting the scorched land beneath, creating habitable pockets on Earth. Where once stood London, Tokyo, Paris, and New York lay the blank canvas of life, laid bare and waiting for the survivors to venture forth and start anew. Although life was hard, progress was fast. Centuries of rivalry and fighting were put aside in the name of growth, and civilization began to prosper once more. The breath-taking bio-towers rose out of the dust and became colossal green beacons of hope, scattered into the poisonous wind. Fertile cities in the sky – a utopian dream become reality in the face of the worst-case scenario. But humanity never changes… Why should those who designed the new future get their hands dirty building a society for those who just consume and reproduce? Why should others toil day and night in the name of development, whilst those in the high towers sneer from above and grow richer by the day? And so, we reverted to type. Fights, protests, and riots broke out on both sides. The glistening emerald towers became icons of iniquity and many left to create their own vision of life on New Earth. Shanties and trading outposts sprung up around and between the giant bases of the bio-towers. Although dirty and dangerous, they provided the freedom that many had sought since the great rebuild had reached its apex. As the population grew and the problems of old Earth once again reared their heads, life fell into a familiar pattern. The rich, powerful, and educated living sheltered lives high in the bio-towers. The poor, working population packed in and around the bases of the towers, living simply in the shanties and residential pods, stolen in the first weeks of unrest. The dichotomy of human life, presented in a new, yet familiar, light. But the rhythm of this humanity became commonplace, and this new society became the norm. As fancy boutiques, restaurants and bars appeared in the towers to satisfy the heads of the new corporations, bustling markets, street vendors and all manner of insalubrious institutions popped up in the shanties to cater for the common man, or for the more carnal and unsavoury of pastimes. Life flowed between the towers and the shanties and both sides of the coin could prosper if you knew where to look. New Earth became less about fresh starts and survival and instead the vices of Old Earth became transformed, repackaged, and distributed freely. The towers no longer held their ‘bio-tower’ designation – they were simply called ‘Eden’. The shanties no longer held their derisive moniker – they, instead, became ‘Nova’. Eden and Nova – New Earth, as formed by past, present and future. Utopia and dystopia incarnate. These are the tales of this world.

‘Be wary of the rumbling if you stake your claim in the wilds’, he told me. One more thing to worry about amongst the poisonous air and radioactive dust. Rumours of the giant Terraformers still being active deep in the wilderness were tall tales, reserved for old timers and drunkards of a particular ‘perfume’. Everyone knows those grand old machines have been extinct since the great rebuild. The first, vital step towards New Earth already complete. Carcasses now broken down for scrap and shanty. History well and truly documented and filed for posterity. But on this dusty, parched morning, I awoke to a muted grumble. The walls of my pod creaking as the earth beneath cracked and split into tiny ravines. I jumped up and went outside, expecting some kind of oversized trade caravan or even an earthquake. But all there was, was that rumbling – my entire world vibrating to a mysterious frequency. From the east came an eerie violet glow. Like a curtain of light, sweeping the earth clean. I know my ‘shine is strong, young’un, but this was something else… From just over the horizon, you could make out puffs of debris spinning into the air before evaporating in peculiar clicks and pops beneath the dawn sky. Then I saw it. Enormous rotating teeth, bright green lenses the size of observatory telescopes and the tops of monstrous tracks, flattening the ground where they rolled. A real, honest to God Terraformer. I was too awestruck to be concerned that it was heading in my general direction. This machine was a man-made, bonafide, God-tier life creator. Without these, we’d all be living underground or staggering round with radiation sickness for the entirety of our very short, painful lives. Forget genesis – this was like witnessing the birth of a God. Coming to my senses, it became disturbingly clear that my pod was in this beast’s path. Collecting up what I could in my work pack, I just ran. I know I didn’t have the permits to build in the wilds. I know it was dangerous. But I never thought I’d even see a Terraformer, let alone witness one this close to Nova Boundary. As the noise grew louder and the vibrations turned into violent shaking, I curled up in a ball, thought of my mother and recited whatever scripture, song or blessing my old mind could remember. Our Father, who art in Eden, Hallowed be thy name. From Old Earth born to New Earth risen, In Nova as it is in Eden, Give me this day your protection. Forgive my trespass into your regal lands and forgive my obstruction of your holy machine. Lead me through this dark wilderness and deliver me from harm, As you did through the Great Rebuild and our glorious second birth. From Tower to Plain, we pledge ourselves to you, As loyal subjects of New Earth. Amen. Be wary of the rumbling if you stake your claim in the wilds. A tall tale indeed…

The inner workings of a Terraformer were a rare sight. In fact, these colossal machines were never designed to be seen by anyone, save the scientists who built them. They were programmed to leave their vast underground hangars once the surface had become stable enough to support their sole duty: repair Earth’s atmosphere and make the planet habitable once more. The Collapse had ravaged Earth and its inhabitants. Repeated nuclear strikes, decades of ground war and cruel biological weapons had forced any survivors underground into networks of fallout bunkers. Those who made it to safety were faced with generations rebuilding life under the Earth’s crust. Only the hope that, one day, there would be a new beginning for some kept the flame of humanity burning. New Earth had but one chance and one chance alone for a fresh start: the Terraformers. Work had started on this technology about fifteen years before day zero and continued decades into the initial stages of man’s underground chapter. The premise was simple in theory: create machines that would take the poisonous materials left on the surface of Earth, break them down and produce patches of land that were capable of hosting basic life. As new species took hold, the ozone layer would reform, and animals could once again start to thrive. Once areas big enough had been built up on the surface, the first survivors could venture forth from the bunkers and begin life anew. The bodies of the Terraformers would then be dismantled and used for shelter and whatever else was required. Life-building, re-usable automata on a scale never imagined possible. Despite advanced tracking and the Terraformers’ built-in redundancy, many of the machines were lost and never accounted for after humanity had finally re-established itself on the surface. These were presumed destroyed by the environment or possibly buried at the bottom of a toxic ocean somewhere on the other side of the planet. But occasionally, these behemoths would appear, inspiring awe, fear, and reverence in all who witnessed them. These rare sightings were a once in a lifetime prospect for the scientists and engineers of New Earth, who had not had the same education and opportunities as their ancestors. Being able to truly experience the internal processes of a Terraformer was overwhelming. Seemingly endless conveyor belts, vats of unknown fluid and processing equipment sent vast piles of debris from one end of the huge chamber to the other. Unrecognisable hues of light penetrated the poisoned rubble and released foul smelling gasses toward the celling vents, the tops of which were too tall to see with the naked eye. Rivers of cleansing liquid flowed like mountain rapids down into the depths of the machine and the sound of crashing water reverberated upwards, melding with the cacophonous apparatus in the main chamber. Those who were lucky enough to observe this life-giving technology were some of the brightest minds found in Eden and Nova, yet none were sure exactly what they were witnessing. Technology so vital that any potential obstruction or hurdle was excluded before a problem could arise. Processes so complex and ground-breaking that secrecy was beyond paramount, and no one shared anything outside of the confines of the research labs. These Terraformers, now over two centuries old, were akin to Gods to the average man and remained pure mystery to the educated. Perhaps one day, rare visits such as this would forge new breakthroughs for humanity and true utopia could finally be achieved. Until then, we strive onward, always looking forwards to a brighter future for all on New Earth.

From the sentry tower, I watched the sky. Her silhouette eclipsing the sunset as the radio faded to static. A smeared blip on the radar, streaking outward into the dark pastel dusk. A curt, final goodbye amidst the ferrous dust and prepacked food in the hanger was all I got. Nothing more to say, I suppose. A liminal event in an everchanging landscape – insignificant, yet so fiercely painful. We saw a glimmer of promise when we were posted to the Badlands. Just a touch of hope that one day, things would be like before. Not tied to the company, the grand visions of New Earth, or the caustic bureaucracy of Eden. Simply a place to call our own - somewhere to create our own memories. But now that’s gone. And I’m just watching, as you slowly disappear.