Old man Harris sat on his usual bench outside the café in New Rome, sipping his espresso, squinting up at the sky where a long silver streak cut across the clouds. A damn spaceship. He leaned over to the kid next to him, who was busy adjusting a sleek metallic wrist communicator.
"You see that, boy? That's a spaceship. Flying to Mars. MARS!" he barked, tapping his cane for emphasis. "You know what I was doing at your age? Hiding from German artillery and hoping my boots didn't melt off."
The boy grinned. "Gramps, that was, like, fifty years ago."
"Fifty years?" Harris snorted. "No, dammit, that was yesterday. At least it feels like it. Yesterday we were dug into the mud. Today? We got flying transports and gold-armored demigods walking around like it's normal."
A nearby worker, covered in grease and dust from one of the orbital launch platforms, wiped his brow and chuckled. "You know, when the Emperor gave his speech and the sky turned gold, I thought it was the end of days. But now? I'm working on the third cargo shuttle headed to Mars. Got a cousin volunteering for the terraforming unit. Said it's dry as hell up there."
Another man joined in from the adjacent table. "My wife still thinks the Emperor is some kind of psychic Santa Claus. You know what she said last night? 'He heard my wish for indoor plumbing, and boom, we got toilets that flush both ways!'"
The group burst into laughter.
On the streets, huge banners of the Aquila fluttered as people walked past markets with fresh fruit, clean clothes, and machines that glided without wheels. Children played with hovering toy drones, and teachers taught lessons with glowing light-boards projecting ancient history alongside the Emperor's new doctrines.
An old woman, knitting beside her daughter, looked toward the sky as another shuttle ascended. "Sometimes I wonder if we're dreaming. Just a few years ago, bombs were falling over Europe. I lost two brothers to that war. Then… he came. That light in the sky. That voice in our minds. The war stopped. Just like that."
Her daughter nodded, holding her baby closer. "I've never known a world without fear. But now… it's different. There's structure. Purpose. Hope."
A teenage boy nearby added, "And memes! You seen the one where the Custodes are holding a cat like it's a war trophy? Hilarious!"
"Oh, don't get me started on the memes," an officer in the newly formed Earth Defense Legion muttered. "Someone painted a mustache on one of the statues of the Emperor and ended up scrubbing the Capitol floor with a toothbrush for three days."
Across the globe, this scene repeated in different accents, cultures, and settings. Farmers had machines planting and harvesting faster than horses ever could. War zones were now fields of flowers and growing crops. Cities that had once been rubble were now crystalline fortresses of light, clean power, and knowledge. And always, high above, the ships ascended.
From the trenches to the stars, it hadn't been gradual. It had been like waking up from a nightmare into a dream.
And yet, it felt right.
The people didn't know what was coming next, but they trusted the golden figure who had appeared in their minds, lifted them from despair, and promised them a future beyond the stars.
---