The Last Stargazer
In a future where the sky is permanently obscured by pollution, a young girl discovers a hidden observatory and sees the stars for the first time.
In Neo-Veridia, the sky was a permanent, murky orange. The 'Gloom,' as we called it, had blanketed the Earth for generations, a toxic legacy of our ancestors. We lived under a dome of artificial light, our days and nights dictated by the city's central clock. Stories of a 'blue sky' and 'shining lights' were just that—stories, myths for children.
My grandfather was one of the last to remember. He'd leave me his most prized possession: a key and a riddle. "Where the city sleeps, the sky awakens," it read. One night, I followed the riddle to the abandoned industrial sector, to a forgotten, rust-covered silo. The key fit an old, creaking lock. Inside, a spiral staircase led up into darkness. At the top, I found it: a massive telescope, pointed at a retractable ceiling.
With trembling hands, I pushed the button. The ceiling groaned open, revealing a sight that stole my breath away. For the first time, I saw them. A black velvet canvas, splashed with a billion glittering diamonds. The stars. They were real. Tears streamed down my face as I looked through the eyepiece, seeing distant galaxies and nebulae. In a world that had forgotten the cosmos, I became its sole keeper, the last stargazer, guarding the secret of the universe above.