Aspen’s Perspective

They say you don’t know who you are until you know where you’ve come from, I came from extinction.

We were all Homo-Sapiens once, the only human species on Earth. But time, desperation, and design changed that. Now, three kinds of people walk the planet:

The Neanders — brute survivors, shaped by ruin.

The Prims — engineered minds from the sea cities.

And us — the Sapiens — remnants of the old kind, clinging to what’s left.

I’m one of the last. A Homo-Sapien. Rare, now. A limited edition.

A lot has happened in the past thousand years. Buckle up. You’ve got a lot to catch up on.

The Collapse

Once, Homo sapiens thrived alone. We built, expanded, congratulated ourselves. Then greed and laziness took over — two traits we refused to evolve out of. Technology surged. Consumption exploded. The planet cracked under the weight.

Warnings came. So did efforts. But it was too little, too late.

Extreme weather followed. Sea levels rose. Species vanished. And then came the modern ice age.

Humanity scrambled. A group of scientists called a crisis meeting with the richest people alive. They fled. Typical. And began building a sanctuary in one of the few untouched places: beneath the sea. Thus, the first sea city was born. Small. Exclusive. Promising salvation. But expansion takes time, and time was not on their side.

As the city grew, the land people waited. The powerful and intelligent were invited in, one by one. Thousands followed. Desperation mounted. History repeated itself. War broke out. Chaos reigned. Society on land collapsed.

Earth had never seen such destruction.

The Sea City's Rise

With medicine scarce, ecosystems poisoned, and starvation rampant, survival became a solo sport. Everyone clung to the hope of a place in the city. But people died off quickly. Eighty percent of the population gone in a year.

The sea people regrouped. Expansion was impossible. Resources too limited, damage too great. So, they pivoted. Instead of growing the cities, they would heal the Earth. Share it — In theory.

They called it the Saviour Project, a promise to restore balance. The city people played the victim, claiming to miss home, longing for the land and its people. Touching, really.

Inside the city, they built a new system. Money abolished. Equal homes. Minimal possessions. Everything repaired, not replaced. A democracy like no other before it.

To repair the Earth, they bred animals in controlled environments. Preserved and cultivated plants, storing DNA in libraries. Sapling forests were planted along thawing coastlines. Wildlife was coaxed back. It might have been what saved the last of humanity but for the earth, it was a plaster on a gaping wound. The hope surrounding Novaris became the stuff of dreams.

The Wasteland

The land became a wasteland — stretched thin between life and death. Cities turned to dust. Valleys lay bare, covered in brittle moss and skeletal trees. In the south, acid rain carved the earth into steaming craters. Mountains crumbled. Food chains collapsed. No birdsong. No insects. Just wind, howling through the ruins. Though the coastline forests thrived.

Novaris pressed on, driven by guilt or ambition. But plaster after plaster wouldn’t hold. Eventually, silence fell.

And the people left on land? After centuries of empty promises, they turned hostile. It wasn’t a life, it was an existence, a fight for survival. The Saviour Project had failed. Two civilizations, now strangers. Hope was gone. Novaris remained silent.

The New Evolution

No one expected evolution to move so fast. But extreme conditions breed extreme change.

The land people adapted. They scavenged, sheltered, and multiplied. With the weak killed off and after millennia apart, they became something else entirely: bigger, stronger, simpler. Able to reclaim the land as their own, surviving the harshest of conditions.

We call them Neanders — the Neanderthals of our time. They live by instinct, not intellect.

The people of Novaris changed too — not through nature, but design. Descended from Earth’s elite, they reprogrammed their DNA and became something new. Smarter. Sharper. Smaller. Homo Supreme. Or “Prims,” as I like to call them.

A very modest race. Ha! Only they would name themselves the best. They forgot to pack a bicep. Or a personality.

The Sapiens

So where do I fit in?

Some say we didn’t evolve at all. My parents believed we were abandoned on land, like the Neanders — but we stayed in the forests. We built homes from scraps, formed communities, survived.

Eventually, we found each other — small groups from around the world, searching for sanctuary. Stronger together.

We felt safest in the woods. Shelter. Food. But the conditions were brutal. We lost homes. We lost people. It became part of life. New groups joined us. Our numbers held steady.

We weren’t big like the Neanders, or brilliant like the Prims, but we were growing strong.

The Return to Novaris

And now? The Sapiens and Neanders aren’t only on land anymore. In the last few decades, the Prims opened their doors once more, inviting anyone left on land, back in. Some accepted. Others hesitated.

In hindsight, it’s not so bad. Novaris runs a tight ship — rules, regulations. But no one dies here. We’re warm, clothed, fed — if you can stomach the meals and the monotony.

We work to earn our keep. The Neanders handle the heavy lifting in the sublevels. Sapiens? We’re used as servants or nannies but not all of us. Some get assigned to families. The rest live in camps until needed.

Some see us as a novelty here. But we’re also viewed like pets — not capable. Capacity must be proven in Novaris, not assumed.

Doctor Virellan is helping me. Through education, I’m hoping to prove myself — to work, to build something of my own. Not just be trained to care for their offspring.

I must be worth more than they think.

So, now you’re caught up, let the storytelling begin. It is the year 1000 AR — (After religion). Earth is no longer ours.

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