He considered Aoba's suddenly muted enjoyment and expressions, pale gaze softening. He understood well enough, despite alwayd having lived in the city, never personally experiencing a loss of home. Hard to lose what you never felt like you had. Still, when he visited the old places and ran his hands over stone temples and wood pillars, he longed to know the bustling world of the past.

"Perhaps...it will offer some solace to know that your world, if it is at all the same, will soon be visited by the Traveler? If you are from an age of advanced technology, you haven't long to wait. The first contact happened on Mars. There were no colonies, just three brave astronauts sent there on a skeleton of a ship. Your Earth will enter a beautiful golden age, and last for lifetimes. My Earth...it isn't yours. Not for a long, long time. Don't be saddened by this. It is no one's fault. This isn't the result of humanity failing. Try to find beauty in the things you see here. Think of it as less if a mausoleum, more of a museum. Humanity is out there in space, surviving against the odds, and the city is the combined effort of every culture man ever produced. We may not be the same, but the very best parts of humanity brought us here."