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WORLD UNPREPARED

  Late January, 1997, Bering Strait, Alaska.

  Parked at the predeparture bay of a huge pyramid-shape spaceship was a lone sixty-foot wide saucer-shaped airship. It was the only one left of the thirty-four they started with. The light that streamed out of its opened doorway faintly illuminated the area nearby. Elsewhere, a humongous empty space hidden in darkness.

  Two humanlike figures, Amo Obib and his wife, Ningning, were seated on a wooden bench by the airship’s ramp side. They were waiting for their five children to bid their last farewell. Sadness had weakened their spirit and a deep sense of loneliness prevailed. They were very much in the own thoughts. Thoughts of hopelessness, of fears, and of trepidation for what the future would hold for their children once the left the spaceship.

  Ningning’s tears had reddened her eyes and welted her eyelids. She held on to her husband’s, Amo Obib, left arm and melancholy leaned her head on his shoulder holding back herself from crying. She could only wish things went differently. “I fear . . .,” she choked, “I fear we are sending our children to a world that is not prepared for them.”

  Amo Obib felt her hands clasped his arm, her head on his shoulder. He shared her sadness, her concerns, the mixed feelings of anxieties and helplessness. In a sigh, sadly answered, “I wish we had a choice.” He paused and in an uncertain tone of voice continued, “In all the years I observed Humans, I never understood them. Power, greed, and mistrust are things that shape their destiny. Never in history have they thought of themselves as one, earthlings. Countries, races, tribes, families, and even within their own family, they compete against each other. I do not understand,” he paused again as he struggled to make sense of it.

  “It’s sad,” he continued, “for it is within the human’s power to make this planet a wonderful place to live. If they only knew the value in loving and helping each other, they could make their world a paradise. It perplexes me,” he sighed again, his head bowed slightly, eyes stared blankly at the floor. In recollection added, “Nengut was right . . . our culture and upbringing will never allow us to comprehend humans explicitly and neither will they of us.”

  Ningning was taken aback, surprised. She slowly lifted her head from his shoulder to see his face. There was no expression, solemn, deep in thoughts. Never had she heard him talk of human frailties. He was always optimistic of what humans could do and achieve for themselves and for others. She wondered herself: ‘So many things are in their favor yet ignore their blessings and take a course that may destroy the wonderful things they have---their family, their friends, and even their only world. They seem not to care, indifferent to what has happened around them and their future.’

  Amo Obib’s chest heaved. Fresh air filled his lungs then expelled words curved out of deeply hidden torments. “Our deaths will mark the end of the Rian civilization in this universe,” he said sadly. Then a question heavy in his mind came and he asked Ningning, “Did I fail the many who pinned their hopes on me?”

  Ningning looked at her husband’s face again. She felt his anguish, the frustrations, his unanswered questions, the doubts that haunted him through the years. She held back her tears from falling for her husband’s sake. She knew how heavy his burdens were yet spoke not a word of it through all the years of trials until now. She replied putting as much feelings placed in her words, “You were always at your best at the worst of times. I do not say this to please you, my husband, but as a Rian you are an exceptional leader, a worthy amo. As your wife, I am so proud of you,” and, uncontrollably, a tear came out from each eye, crept down her cheeks, fell, and soaked on her skirt.