The old one, Shaman to his people, climbed up the icy granite crags, his left leg ached unbearably… his knees popped with every step. He started to curse the bear that had ripped the muscles in his calf ten summers ago… he stopped abruptly remembering his mission… Painfully, he knelt down on the rocky incline- feeling the sharp stones through the thick pelt he had wrapped around his body. Shaman asked forgiveness and cried out praises to the Bear Spirit- he would need the strength of the Bear if he were to be successful this night.

The summit was near but the sun was getting low… with a groan he stood and resumed his slow painful trek upwards. He needed to be as close to the campfires of the spirits as possible if they were to hear his pleas…

Finally, he stood at the top of the mountain… the Shaman gave thanks to the Earth God and looked out over the land. To the northeast and southeast he could see the great water. To the west he could see the world he knew… down there nestled in the shelter of the hills was his family, and every living person he knew… 10 hands of friends and family that were slowly dying.

The land had been growing colder and more hostile since he was a child, now it wasn’t possible to feed the clan… as the hunters became weak the amount of food fell even more… Sadness overwhelmed the old man; he looked through his tears to the east- then saw something that caused him to wipe the tears away and squint intently… dozens of black dots…. He watched in the light of the setting sun- Yes they were moving! He watched and counted their number- MANY many hands of them… He gave a cry of relief and thanked the spirits. It would mean a hard fast push for his clan, but they could overtake the slow furry creatures… the meat of just one young one would save his people, at least for a while. A herd this size hadn’t been seen in many years. They could follow it and have food for many seasons. The old man smiled- the spirits had not abandoned his people. He yelled his thanks to the sky and sat down on a rock and pulled out some dried meat and nibbled at it with his remaining teeth as he watched the sun slowly set.

As twilight faded a lone star became visible- the bright wandering star… His mind wandered back to a night two summers ago, the chief had died of the cough- many of the clan had given up all hope… It was the most painful time in the old mans life- all the clan looked to him, the Shaman, for hope. The pleading stares hurt like a blow to the stomach, he had been as lost and hopeless as the rest of them…. He had nothing to offer, not hope, not wisdom, he couldn’t even hunt due to his crippled leg. So on the second night he mourned around the funeral fire with the clan and watched the sun set… his eyes rested on the evening star- the first star to appear at twilight. He had long been fascinated by it- it was the brightest, and it did not travel like the other lights… Something took hold of his spirit, he had to give his people hope.

So the old man told a story…It started in a whisper that was drowned out by the hopeless sobbing of the clan… He told a story of the sky spirits, how almost all of them had found green fields and plentiful game and so their campfires never moved- the game came to them, their clans never were hungry, they didn’t have to go following the herds. They lived happily in one place, never wanting. Slowly his voice had found more strength, more faith and the sobbing of the clan had subsided- all were looking at him… the children with wide eyes- they needed to believe.

The Shaman then pointed to the evening star and told of a Great Spirit clan that didn’t think paradise was enough, they were searching for even more…. And so they wandered this way and that looking for a more perfect life- they suffered horrible pains and battles but they were Great, and overcame them all. They went hungry and their fires would grow dimmer, but they would always brighten because they remained a strong clan. The old man had seen the hope returning to the faces of those he loved as he spoke, and for the first time he felt that maybe he really had magic. He told of how the great spirit clan was watching over them, and when they found paradise so would the clan… He spoke of how there would be challenges ahead and much pain, but the clan would find a better life…

He had trailed off not knowing what more to say… every member of the clan hugged him that night, thanking him for sharing his ‘vision’. He had renewed hope for everyone except himself, yet he became the unquestioned chief of the clan. For two years they had followed him without question, through starvation and cold they always turned to him for hope, and somehow he had given it to them. But slowly food became harder and harder to find and he knew they were dying… Yet the clan held onto the lie he told so long ago… believing in it and in him.

The Shaman knew that he was dying… at 43 summers he was the oldest any of the clan had ever known… and he knew if he left them they would die. They were losing hope again, so he had told them he would go to the mountain and speak to the spirits… In reality he had half hoped to die on the journey. He was tired of the responsibility, of keeping up the lies that gave his clan hope… He was just so tired. The spirits had never spoken to him, and he had begun to believe that they just didn’t care. Maybe the spirits showing him the herd was a sign that they would save his people… He could head back now and be in his clan by mid day the next mid day… but the dim spark of faith rekindled by the revelation of the herd made him wait to see whatever else the spirits may show him…

He watched the sky as it grew dark and the spirits lit their fires- some of the spirits he knew by name and he called to them… For once half hoping for an answer. None answered. He waited until all their fires were lit and then called to them… at first apologizing for disturbing their rest. Then he told of the hardships his clan had suffered, how the children were dying, how the animals were gone… How he was an old man that was not going to be with his clan more than another season. How he wanted his orphaned grandchildren to live to become great hunters…

Despite his resolve the old man broke into sobs… “The spirits cant hear me…They are happy and at peace- why should they care about an old man who lies to his people…?”

He felt the smll spark of faith leave him and he began to sob…. He decided he would not return to his clan, he would die up here… it was better than watching his peoples faith in him die…. Watching them die… He was just so tired.

The Shaman laid back and watched the spirit’s fires burn- he imagined the paradise they lived in… It just wasn’t fair.

The old man came to peace with the idea of death… It couldn’t be more painful than life. Then he noticed something odd- a bright star where there never was one before, he smiled dreamily- another clan had found paradise…

But as he watched it moved, racing past the other spirit clans….getting brighter… soon it out shown even the evening star. The old man sat up with a grunt. It moved faster and faster… then a curtain of light flashed in the sky. It started as a point of light and then expanded in a ring in the sky to the east. Suddenly a spear of fire jetted from the center of the ring towards the eastern horizon, at the same time the bright blue ring closed back down to a point and then snuffed out with a flash.

The old man watched and didn’t breathe for a few moments… after all this time the spirits had spoken to him. They had told him to head to the east- to follow the herd. Maybe his story HAD been a vision, maybe paradise awaited… The old man headed down the mountain as fast as hi crippled leg allowed. He had been a leader of his people before but now he was their messiah. They would head to the east and indeed; their grand children would find paradise.

It was an abrupt awakening- full awakening took time, the urgency of the emergency didn’t allow for it. Generation 1123 #4 examined its logs… Last entries said a likely target for study was found and that it was diverting towards it. A calm star with planets. Two of which could support life. Then there was the report of an object on collision course – a speck of dust but enough to be a threat at this velocity. Groggily it began emergency deceleration, but the object hit. What happened next it didn’t remember- nor did it know how much time had passed before the nanoprobes repaired its brain. It awoke as it approached a blue white planet with obvious signatures of life