TIME STAMP:
Earth Date ~ Approximately A.D. 2058
Having escaped Earth on its last legs on the 12th of July 2048 (Ark-I launched from the last habitable landmass we called Donunder, once referred to as Australia), we arrived on Eden in around mid January 2049 after a six-month journey through space. And we weren’t warmly welcomed. During their brutal onslaught, thousands of our number were killed and our spacecraft, Ark-I was destroyed; and with it, we lost all our technology. Having now survived for nine years on this merciless planet—and taking into account that Eden’s year is marginally shorter than an Earth-year—the date is approximately 2058 on Earth’s calendar.
Encouraged by Victor to do so, here are my first notes on the planet Eden, some of the beasts that we encounter in our fight for survival, and some of the lessons we’ve learnt. Some day, I hope to chronicle our story on Eden at which point these notes will prove invaluable.
ENTRY 1: PLANET EDEN
Similar to Earth in so many ways, a semantic affinity between the two planets; Eden is both younger and larger, a primitive planet with one land mass surrounded by oceans. And the land area is a fraction of the Earth’s—basically, it’s a planet of raging oceans with a little garden strip in the middle. In the next solar system adjacent to Earth’s; a lush and fertile planet, Eden can sustain life … if one had the wherewithal to survive.
Without technology, we mark the days through laborious, old-school methods and thus, we’ve deduced that Eden’s days are slightly longer than an Earth-day. Eden’s moon revolves around the planet every twenty-eight days, and we work on a 350-day year.
Orbiting around a young, strong sun, Eden has one moon and four distinct seasons—so alike Earth you’d expect to feel at home. However, what makes us feel like the aliens we are, is not the formidable native species that did not take kindly to our arrival, or the nightmarish beasts against which we have little defence. No. The striking characteristic of Eden that makes it so distinctly otherworldly and drastically hostile is the intense, overly saturated predominant colours of this planet—displayed so vividly and animatedly in the fauna and flora. The bold and bizarrely-rich chroma of purple, red, blue and green is heavy and taxing on the senses.
Unlike the spectral range of Earth’s colours—red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet—there is a distinct lack of orange and yellow, and far fewer softer hues in the other primary and secondary colours. This means that the colours during Eden’s spring and summer moons are jarring on the eyes, at times making me feel like I’m living in a comic-book world. The sky on a clear day isn’t azure blue, but more a blur of purple and blue, an electric violet hue; tree trunks are not brown, they’re a splotch of purple and red, occasionally, bole in colour; foliage and grass is either emerald green or again, a smudge of purple and green. No orange, no yellow, and a very narrow range of green. And yes, purple is the undergirding contextual colour.
When autumn begins to drain the colour from the landscape and flora—the colours seem to leak from the page—it brings immense relief to my overstimulated eyeballs. Then, when winter rolls in proper, Eden is plunged into a drab, grungy grey. Like a colouring-in-book yet to be coloured. Along with the freezing temperatures, the winter grey pounds us into dismay and depression.
While Eden has only one moon, it probably had a second. Forming a thin ring of debris around the planet, the remains of Eden’s second moon are most evident during summer at full moon when the night sky appears encircled by a necklace of pearls. The brilliant radiance that illuminates the darkness is the reason these are the only nights of the year when we can be sure they won’t attack. And since the middle of summer is blistering hot, and we’re forced to hide from the sun’s merciless rays; these nights of stunning beauty are a highlight we cherish. And there aren’t too many on this brutal planet.