I'm a survivor. I must be; all the papers said so. It was quite the thing to see myself listed as "survived by" five times on one obit page after the blue hats slaughtered the better part of my family in the Boston "Riots" of '44. Seen it there another four times since then too, as the rest of us gradually got taken out. Suppose it's the price you pay in this day and age for living in a family of activists and Green Mountain Boys. Suppose I'm lucky I'm not dead myself.

I'm going to Alchibah because I just can't let my girls end up dead, no matter how much I need to keep fighting the UNWG. My oldest, Jaisa, has already joined the fight at 17 and damn near refused to come because of it. My two little ones, Aya and Arra, deserve to grow up in a world where they won't have to make the choice between living a half life and living a short life. My only regret is that I will never see my little brother Gabe again. In all likelihood he'll be dead by the time we reach our new home, and by rights I should die by his side. If not for my daughters I surely would have. I just hope this new world can give them a good life.

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