He watched from the shoreline as the ships gathered in the bay, filling the sparkling marbled blue of the water. There was a barrier in front of him, telling him to go no further, and yellow lines on the ground, telling him that he had already gone too far. He wasn’t supposed to be there. If the Inspectors found him, they could have him imprisoned. Or, if they didn’t want to take the time to look him up, they could say he was resisting arrest and fill him with bullets. He knew he shouldn’t have come, that the risk was too great.
But he had to see. He had to see them leave.
They were the lucky ones, the ones healthy enough, wealthy enough, their pasts clean enough, to enter utopia. They were the elite, the ones who had been selected for survival, and they were running.
The ships began to turn, heading one by one out into the infinite blue. He watched as they went, leaving him behind, the saved in their precious arks.
It won’t work, he thought. They’re running, but they’re bringing everything with them. It’ll just start again.
They’re no better off than I am.
Word Count: 199
This is for Sunday Photo Fiction!