What the people nowadays seem to forget is that we didn't always live in scattered groups in space.
We had a home back then.
Before the curtains around the Sun were drawn.
Forever.
I was a scientist back then- a revered job that earned the big bucks back at Earth.
Until, of course, the scientists failed to prevent what would bring about the end of the world.
Then again, no one could have predicted it.
No one could have seen it coming.
A small forgotten company near the outskirts of New York.
A dirty little scrap of a machine, coated in a mix of uncleaned chemicals.
A small illegal experiment conducted by the unauthorized, self acclaimed scientists.
The blast off was so small that it barely breached the exosphere.
However, by the slightest inch- in a chance that some may even call luck, that pitiful piece of scrap somehow made it to outer space.
It never stopped, just kept drifting and drifting towards the one thing that kept us all alive.
The Sun.
The heat should have burnt it, melted it to nothing- but the unknown chemicals coating the machine seemed to swallow up the fiery blaze of the yellow dwarf star until it finally reached the surface.
The Darkness spread across the vast area, and even when humanity begged for the last sparks of light to be kept, the darkness did not cease its movement.
In less than a month, the darkness swallowed up the Milky way in the blink of an eye.
Most of humanity died on the planet that once thrived with warmth and life.
Only a handful of us survived the event, and even those who did were never the same again.
Our homes and families were gone.
The things that had been the base of our species' very existence for over hundreds of thousands of years were gone.
All in the span of one month.
The lights were turned off.