JMS 1.1

April 12th, 2053

Dear Julia,

I don’t know if you’ll get this. There’s been word that shipments to North America are still being made with Solisim. M has said he’ll do what he can to get this letter sent. Blessed is our G-D. I’m writing to you because it’s likely to be the last time I can.

I wonder how you are – the kids must be so big now. I so wish I could see you one last time. We heard reports that San Francisco had completely been destroyed by the bombings. I’m reassuring myself that you must be ok since I know you’re living back at home. But it still must be terrible. I hope you’re staying strong amongst all this. We come from strong stock, though, don’t we?

We’ve been in D. two years now – you remember it, don’t you? As I’m sure you know by now, Paris was completely burned. After that we went south where M has been working on a very big project. The village we had been living in was stormed by rioters one night and that’s when M decided to move me out here. His mother was still living in the house then, but she passed a year ago, G-D bless her. Most of the time M is gone. His work is so important to all of us, I won’t complain about being alone, but the village is deserted now and being in this big place all by myself does something to a person after a while.

I was out foraging two months ago and was looking through an old barn about three miles down the road. I don’t know why, but I decided to go upstairs to the bedrooms even though I knew any left behind food would have been stored in the cellar. I opened one of the bedroom doors, the window had been left open and the curtains were blowing in. I saw the bed and there was a person in it. He was dead of course, but the site of him caught me so off guard I screamed and planted my hand over my mouth. That’s when I realized – for just a split second – that I expected to disturb someone, anyone. That someone would have come running to see what was the matter. It was such an eerie feeling, I can’t describe it, but this is quite the way it is here now. A complete ghost town for miles and miles. If it weren’t for M’s project, I think I would have lost faith long ago.

And that’s why I’m writing you. Almost all the crops failed this year. Only potatoes and some other root vegetables made it through and even those are a sorry sight. We’ve been living mostly on the rations M is provided by the military. He says even those, in another year, will run out.

Julia, have you heard of ISS Haniwa? I’m sure you must have by now. They say they’ve already selected a large amount of people from Canada and the US. This has been the project M has been working on these past several years – the CRI-E, the European wing of the Crisis & Response Institute. It’s been headquartered for the past five years at the old aviation base near Marseille. M’s been heading the team that created the ship’s functional light-year operation system – the system that M says makes the thing fly so damn fast. He’s been guaranteed a spot aboard, but my spot, as I’m sure you can imagine, has not - spouses are not given places on the ship under any circumstances. I knew this the moment M told me he was officially requested to go. We applied anyway for my spot although who, honestly, would want me on-board a ship that’s filled to the brim with the best of mankind? A month later we got the response – my application was flatly denied. M went that same night to Zürich, driving till morning in the armored car. He spent three days there and when he came back, tired and ragged, he had the approval in his hand – stamped and signed by Rogess himself. I am an “Approved Genetic Provider.” This of course is going to cause problems as most AGPs are between 16 and 20. And Julia, you’ll find it interesting to know that they marked my birth date on the pelvic exam results = January 25^th, 2031. This is M’s doing I know, but we haven’t dared discuss it – as if even breathing a word about it will cause our fragile plan to break.

And so this is the last you’ll hear from me, at least for some time. Thinking of you reading this in Daddy’s old study brings tears to my eyes. How much I wish I could see you. How I hope and pray you’re doing ok – that you’re surviving. But I know that you are – I have to. I will see you again, sister, either on this planet or another.

I love you will all my heart.

Mathilda