[ WP ] Humanity returns to earth after century 's of searching for life on other planets . The trip was unsuccessful .

We were finally at a point in our technological progression where pioneering the vastness of the Universe was n't a dream anymore. Of course, that did n't mean we were going to be hasty in our decisions, but it meant we finally had the means to not only look for a new planet to call home, but seek life that may have been out there somewhere. About one hundred thousand of the world's best and brightest set off in ten well-equipped crafts, with the ability to self-sustain for as long as was needed. 
 
 I was birthed on Renascentia Gamma, but only refer to it as'Home'. I imagine it is very much like Earth, with trees, schools, Gravity Ball, etc.; minus the sky and lack of uniformity regarding everything here, of course. I was taught of our people's importance, our God-given task, to travel the darkness and find the light among it. My great^^5 grandmother and great^^5 grandfather were both chosen because they were rocket scientists with a focus in gravitational hydraulic conversion, specifically tasked with the maintenance and improvement of our home's propulsion system. This task was passed down with each generation, and then fell to me along with my siblings. Schools have always been specialized, and mastering our craft was of the utmost importance. That meant there were no letter grades or multiple subjects taught; no, that fell to our parents, if they so chose, to teach us about something... else. School was about being perfect at carrying on what you were birthed to do. If you did n't get a 100 % on a test, you had to wait 3 months of Earth time to retake it and progress forward in your education. Of course, I never had that problem, and very few that I knew did. In fact, it was pretty damn easy for me. I even snuck in some hidden poetry for the written parts that my parents would have objected to, which I'm sure the elders never caught. 
 
 After graduating, work was daunting. Sure, it was kind of interesting knowing I kept us going, but I was always looking to do something exciting or learn something new. It was a long time until I realized what happened to the'failures' of our home. Those children who could n't quite be perfect in their craft eventually grew up and became the Pioneers of Worlds, or P.O.W., team. They were allowed the opportunity to take small crafts to worlds that were either possible to hold life in some form or were a potential new home for humanity. It was only until I started paying attention that I realized most of those P.O.W. never came back. When they did, though, they were rarely ever seen again. Asking questions was never a smart or safe thing to do, as many of us had learned through parental scoldings. Despite my aching suspicions, I put certain information to the back of my mind, very rarely reflecting upon it or asking myself what could have been going on; besides, life was good. 
 
 My parents are wonderful, if not robotic, people. They taught me what they were taught, of our beautiful paradise of a home, of the tranquil world that we'd soon be back to. I was taught of how technology gave rise to world peace in the form of cloning, solving world hunger and eliminating fierce competition over resources and many other coveted things. It was an odd notion of course, since home was n't equipped with such perfect peace or the cloning technology. Something about requiring specific conditions on Earth, I was told. But still, it was mostly a great place to live. I longed to see Earth in all of its splendor, though. Despite being able to traverse the galaxies and witness the wonders of the Universe, I wanted to behold such a place as Earth. Luckily, my generation was the one to return, even if it's with the bad news of not finding any life or sustainable planets. I wanted to breathe the fresh, Earth air and see the beautiful blue oceans I'd heard so much about. Although the dreams of the initial senders were going to be crushed, my dreams were going to be a reality as we approached the planet. All of us, in fact, were eager to not only step foot on our long-lost home planet, but meet up with the other crafts who should have also been arriving within the Earth year. 
 
 As I gazed upon that unimpressive yellow star that held our planet's orbit, I knew we were close. An hour, maybe two, until the loudspeaker would turn on, telling me to look out the starboard window as we made our descent. My heart jumped into my throat just thinking about the great forests, icy tundras, arid deserts, and other biomes I'd soon have the pleasure of gazing upon. 
 
 I was only 22, though. I was naive. So naive in my blind trust and inability to reason with myself regarding the nature of humanity. The back of my mind held the answers to humanity, the answers to why we left and why we were returning after all of this time. P.O.W. I remember my parents telling me of that acronym and how it was used to refer to Prisoners of War, back before the Earth found peace. The term was used in all five of the World Wars, each time referring to horrible situations for people created by other people. That should have tipped me off to the unchanging nature of who we are. 
 
 There was never any announcement over the loudspeaker to look toward the Earth, and we could n't see the ocean out the window through the clouds and constant flashes of what I assumed to be lightning all over. We settled in what I was told used to be the Mediterranean Sea. It was void of all water now, all life, all beauty. As we went through the Earth's atmosphere, secret compartments opened up all around the ship containing special suits, masks, and breathing apparatuses. The loudspeaker eventually came on, informing us we needed to be wearing them before we landed. After we landed and the engines turned off, the many doors opened and I stepped outside into the barren wasteland. Barren, of course, except for the bone yards within the whirling dust clouds and strong winds. Some seemed like fish bones, though the majority of them matched what I perceived as human. Still close to the ship, looking out at the decaying Earth as lightning flashed above, the loudspeaker resounded in my clogged ears. 
 
 `` Your attention please. Your attention please. From your exit, please cover one square mile and collect as many human-sized bones as you can, bringing them back to the ship. After your sweep is complete, proceed to re-scan yourself in order that we may be sure you are on the ship before we proceed to the next area. Your apparatuses will not last long, so move with great haste. That is all. Thank you.'' 
 
 As I collected the bones and, without question, hoarded them back with my siblings, friends, and family, I began to think about the special dust fueling the ship's engines. I began thinking about the P.O.W. teams and how they were never seen again. I thought about the lightning, the clouds, the dust, the storms. Then I thought about the other ships, the other people, the other seekers of life. 
 
 Watching the fuel being processed from bones, I now know nothing is what it seems. I know many things I've been taught have been a farce, concocted in order to give us hope, in order to keep us going. I am one of the relative few charged with keeping us going. But as I sit here, watching our fuel being made, and wondering what reality I want to accept, the back of my mind itches far greater than ever. I was taught never to scratch an itch, because it will most likely not help the situation and only spread a rash. But this time, it seems the itch is too annoying to go unscratched. In order to move forward, I have to learn the truth. In order to keep us going, I have to look backward. I have to. 
 
 ^^^Note: ^^^Went ^^^longer ^^^than ^^^I ^^^expected ^^^it ^^^to ^^^xD...
