It's been 50 years since we returned to the surface. But, I remember it like it was yesterday. I was a young man. I was weak and tired, scared and excited. We were all dying and I was one of those who was "volunteered" to open the airlocks and see if life was possible beyond our underground shelter. None of the scenarios that had been discussed and over-discussed came to pass. We could never have expected what we would find here. I certainly did not. If you insist, I will share with you again our story.
The last of the three airlocks remained unopened before us. No one had come this far in over 200 hundred years. We weren't even supposed to be here yet. But our failing air purification and monitoring systems was forcing us to evacuate several hundred years before it is expected to be survivable on the surface. Still, there was no where else to go. Whatever tomorrow would hold for us, was just outside that door.
We were all bundled up. The mass nuclear war would have most likely triggered another ice age. The last of the salvageable clothing had been given to use to leave this place in hopes that we would be able to find refuge, air and water. The optimists among us, who numbered very few, hoped that we might even find food of some kind. We all stood looking at one another. Desperation and fear coupled with the last flickers of hope were evident in all of our faces. Not everyone below shared in the vestiges of hope. Some of us had already given up and had voluntarily shut off their own air supplies to their bunks weeks ago. There were only a few hundred left below awaiting our unlikely return. Yet, all our hope was not gone. Mine wasn't. I hoped for life beyond that airlock. I hoped for life damn hard.
As a race, we crave hope as desperately as we cling to life. Despite clinging to hope, we knew what probably awaited us. At best, we were looking at there being some sort of shelter and enough food and water to survive until radiation poison eventually took us all. To me, that seemed a far sight better than suffocating in a dark hole miles underground where we were never intended to be.
Amelia stepped forward and addressed us. "This is it. We've all been taught what to expect as we leave this place. You should expect the air to be heavy with dust and probably very dry. Be warned, the sky above us may be just as dark as the hole we are crawling out of." She looked from one person to the next. She was the strongest among us. Women had fared better than the men in the confined spaces and sparse resources. But she was more than physically strong. She was also the most hopeful. Her eyes seemed to twinkle in the dim light as she surveyed us. She was ready...excited even. "It's time to open this door and see what lies on the other side."
Once the airlock valve had been fully released, Amelia braced herself to push the door outward. Despite ages of remaining silent and sedentary, it began to swing open. An audible rush of air forced itself into the small airlock in which we stood. I covered my mouth fearful of the thick, radioactive assault on my lungs. A fear that would not be realized.
As the airlock door swung completely open and out of view, we peered out into a dark world. It was nearly as dark as we had expected, but...but there were stars! The air did not seem to hang on us like it did below. It was neither dry nor dusty. It seemed...sweet...with a hint of something else. Something like the massive nursery room below. I smelled...plants...dirt. Not dirt like below, though. It seemed fresh and, somehow, alive.
It's been a long time since we first opened those doors. A very long time. That first night on the hillside over looking the city is a little fleeting now. I remember hearing the birds singing. I remember hearing the ebb and flow of the wind...so much different that the steady rush of the ventilation systems below. I remember the entire city below us being dark....no lights. No movement.