‘What other ways could I escape the agony that lay ahead?’ I thought. Dead parents, no job, betrayed by friends—all in a week.

I had always hated alcohol, but the grievous episodes that played out got me hitched to it. While wandering through the TV channels, lost, I found Dev. A perfect world. A perfect escape. A perfect start. I had to try.

“Such an awe,” a lady who arrived on the same transporter as I did said. I couldn’t agree more. Everything was balanced and designed flawlessly—comfy enough, fancy enough, beautiful enough, neat enough. All my anxiety and laments washed off at its sight. Perhaps, this would be the greatest adventure of a lifetime.

We were each taken to our container—at least that was what they called houses there. Humble, right?

All the containers looked the same, and each one was painted in its owner’s favorite color. Mine was ash with splashes of pink. I loved it.

Two days later, as I lay on my bed, smiling for the first time in two weeks, I heard my neighbor’s wails. The walls of the containers on every street were joined, so conversations in the next container were audible—if you paid attention.

“I thought this was the best place for new beginnings, but no! It isn’t, Mark. I miss them. I want to see them, but I can’t even recall their faces. I want to touch them, hug them, tell them I love them, even if they are no longer mine. I need them around,” Mark’s wife, I suppose, cried, stuttering in between.

His comforting was to no avail, and that made him snap in frustration. It turned into a fight, and she concluded she would leave him the next day.

If only there was a way back.

A perfect world with imperfect people—how could it work? I couldn’t imagine being in a flawless place with my glasses still on.

And as days went by, Dev exuded depression. Barely twenty percent enjoyed the paradise they had found. Many thought they were ready for a new life in a perfect world, except that Earth kept calling out to them. Not everyone was fit for it, I guess.

Not even I.

I had found a resolve here, and I loved Dev, but I wanted more than it could offer. I wanted a home, not a container, nor a house.

I wanted to find solutions to problems, not have them served to me on a platter of gold. I preferred a world with limitations, and only Earth had that.

I had to go home.

So I met Tariku Negasi. He was handsome, carried much authority, and therefore, it was fair enough for him to bear the sad news—there was no certain way to go back home, only that he was working on it.

When I asked why, he replied, “Not everyone is fit for Dev.”

Written by Gongsin Doliuran