Smooth and clear as bubbles, the domes looked flimsy, but it would take a meteorite strike to put the slightest dent in them. They were self-cleaning, self-repairing, self-replicating. Nestled amongst the green hills of their new world, they looked entirely at home.
Sarah sat on the hilltop, looking down at her creations. She saw children laughing, breathing in the fresh air. That air was hers too, cleansed and enriched by the microscopic nanites that swam through the alien sky. Even the grass that tickled the palms of her hands was hers, genetically modified.
“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Leah asked, sitting down beside her. She reached out and brushed a strand of Sarah’s purple hair from her piercing grey eyes.
“I think so,” Sarah said.
“Can’t you just settle?” Leah took her hand and held it. “Just for once. There’s no need to keep pushing on. You’ve done so much.”
Sarah smiled. A part of her wanted to stay here in this paradise she had created with this person she loved.
“I’m a shark,” she said. “I have to keep swimming or I die.”
She left – for other worlds, other skies, other horizons, never resting for a moment.
Word Count: 197
This is Alistair Forbes’s Sunday Photo Fiction. Photo Credit to Sashcha Darlington.