“…So don’t forget to mark your calendar for next week’s Festival of Apollo at Shangri-la’s main biosphere, six days of music and poetry. We’ll love to see you visit.” He placed the advertisement script on top of the table, and took a breath.
He faced the microphone in front of him. “I have a few minutes before I’m done for the day. I will like to thank all my listeners for the kind letters I have received over the last week. I read every last one of them congratulating me on my miraculous recovery. They were very touching letters indeed.
“I must admit I’ve done my best to stay positive after my injury over the last three years ago. It had not been easy. It hasn’t been easy for all us. We’ve all been injured some way or other since the attack on our home worlds.
“That had always made be feel guilty,” he paused for a beat. “I was confine to a bed for over six months, while all the fighting and the struggle for our very survival, laid on the shoulders of others. People like, you, contributed in some way to make our lives, a little bit better.
“This brings me to my point about what I have learned about myself. I never allowed myself to give up, you know, I always saw myself walking again. Three years ago, the doctors gave me a five percent chance that I would regain feeling in my legs; they gave me less of a chance that I would ever fully walk again.
“You know what I did; I hanged on everyday to that tiny chance. I pushed myself every time in physical therapy, even when I knew others though it was all in vain. I wanted to believe in hope, not that crap hope my fellow members of parliament say in speeches. Hope for change? What the F is that supposes to mean? Everyday brings change.
“What I am talking about is a greater hope that something out there in which every one of us can reach out toward. I’ve always been a spiritual person, but not necessarily religious. I’ve read the scrolls numerous times in my life.
“My favorite words are these; this is not all that we are.” He nodded at the producer was who was counting down the time. “Think about that over the next couple of days, because I don’t think we are alone. If it is possible for me to walk again, when all the odds were against me. Then I say. This is not all that we are. There is another colony out there some where, and it’s called Earth. We should go find it.”
The producer counted down with his fingers, three, two, one, off the air. Once the red light went dark, the producer said, “Frak, Derrick, are frakking kidding me? Earth is only a legend.”
“Did you think I would walk again?” He asked.
“To be honest, no.” replied the wireless producer. He then pointed to the opposite booth with the dark glass. “The PM was listening.”
“I know,” said Derrick as he got up on his feet and used a cane for support to carefully walk to meet the leader of the parliament in the other room.