“Do you think there will be fountains there?”
“I don’t think so,” Dina replied. “They said there isn’t enough water. Everything’s recycled.”
It was the day before their departure. The following morning their parents would take them to the spaceport at Canaveral, and they’d leave the only home they’d ever known behind them, shuffled off to a sealed dome on a world so different from their own as to be unfathomable. It was a harsh place, cold and red and lifeless, at least for now.
Someday, they were told, their new world would be green. There would be water and fountains and their children’s children would run and play in endless fields of languid grasses. But that world was one they would never see. It was a world that, one day, they would be called upon to help create.
But that was years ahead of them. For now, they merely sat and watched, as the last fountain they’d ever see burbled on before their innocent eyes.