Grant Drake is another someone that I knew from my few years in hell, otherwise known as the cinema.
He had been in a constant state of almost becoming a supervisor, denied each time due to one small thing or another.  He was not considered strict enough and tended to pick favourites amongst the team members.  Considering that I would occasionally fall into that category, I never found myself in a position to complain, however there were more than a few people who did not take so kindly to his style of supervision.
Regardless of his efforts in the cinema, he was an enigmatic, kind-hearted guy with a deep love of musical theatre and strong female icons.
He is currently the public face of Virrion’s council.
When the Screnac.6 landed on Virrion, the colonists were in a state of mourning.
When the tharat that had escorted them to the planet disappeared, they had been left alone for three units, after which a few of the beings that had been working at the facilities there, returned to impart their knowledge of how everything worked.
During those three units, they began to flounder.
It was Grant who started to organize them; assigning people to their apartments, investigating the food and supply situation, contacting the Screnac and Community to get a better idea of how to begin to settle into the facilities and arrange for the previous employees of the resort to arrive to begin their teachings.  He even managed to figure out how to get some of the luxury facilities up and running.
By the time their teachers arrived, they were already beginning to get comfy.
Grant was nominated by the others to be Dawn’s representative.
Naturally outgoing and fairly organized, he rose to the challenge and even arranged a small council to effectively and fairly govern the first human colony.
I had been communicating with him ever since we had put Nesutten out of business, trading information regarding locations various people’s locations and those who were arriving on Virrion.
Thanks to his reports, I know that, including those that we have delivered, there are one-hundred and twenty-five human beings currently residing in Dawn.
Everyone has a job of some description.
Most work on the farmland or in maintenance, however there are a few who have specialized jobs.
Lalita Nayanar, my last doctor, and Roland Shields, my childhood doctor, have set up a surgery with Laura Herman, my asthma nurse.  Julie and Owen have also joined them, helping to integrate what they learnt on Kenglowe. 
Donald Dalton has taken his training on Kenglowe and applying it to running a police department, with six or so other officers.  Working with the council, he has been able to begin implementing Community laws as guidelines for humanity’s official laws on Virrion.
Lucinda Stafford, who is responsible for at least a third of my own tattoos, has set up an art studio which offers tattoos and body piercings.  She has been advertising it on the galanet, which has brought a few patrons to Dawn itself, increasing revenue in hospitality.   With several hundred empty rooms and apartments, there is more than enough room for visitors.
With only five children under the age of ten and none between ten and sixteen, the establishment of a fully fledged school system has been slow, however there is no shortage of teachers amongst the colonists.  Gilbert O’Neil, from Kenglowe, has been working with Cheryl Fayte, one of my teachers from secondary school, to build a basic curriculum for those that will need it.  They have formed an education committee who will work to build a school in the long term.
A few different people have take a conference centre as a place of religious worship.  The majority of people who attend are christian, however the space and rooms have been equally divided between religions, with areas reserved for beliefs that have yet to arrive.  Stan Chambial studied on the beliefs and practices throughout the galactic community and has integrated this knowledge into the appropriate areas there.
Lucy Simmonds, who had been a supervisor at the department store, originally worked as a dental nurse.  On Kenglowe, she had trained in full dentistry and added an opticians license to her repertoire.  She is now running a clinic called I See The Tooth.  She has a couple of apprentices under her wing.
Virrion has successfully become a fully functional and inclusive community.
I am honestly astonished and beyond impressed that they have flourished so quickly.
It is a testament to the abilities and fortitude of what remains of the human race.
I like to think that it bodes well for the future.
Most of it anyway.
Chasity Bryne, who bore the brunt of my first experience with the energy, has established the Humans First group.
They have regular meetings to voice their outrage at being abandoned and kidnapped and being considered the scum of the galaxy.
From what I can gather, they seem to think that humanity should, not only be a part of, but running the Community, being the only race with “pure” instincts and clearly better than all of the other races who are denying us the things that her group feel that we are entitled to, such as protection and the labour required to turn Virrion into a place that actually constitutes a civilization.
I have to lie to myself.
I tell myself that I do not wish that she had been on one of the other ships, that she had been used as an example or done something stupid under a cruel holder or that she had been on the Screnac.3.
I will continue to repeat it to myself until I believe it.
That will not be any time soon.
Of all of the people who survived and made it to Virrion, she and her followers had to be amongst the first.
I had hoped that, after everything that has happened, and is still happening, she might have gained some perspective.  Perhaps she had done.  However with the Community refusing to help any more than it already has, I can see how she must have reacted.
As I made my appearance on the island, I was surprised that her face was not among those on the welcoming committee.
As it transpired, several people had taken it upon themselves to keep her occupied for the day.  I am told that she was not actually aware that I was to be visiting until she overheard it from one of those distracting her.
Their attempt at avoiding a confrontation had been valiant, yet in vain.

The chief, as Grant had been dubbed by the population, and the council welcomed the newcomers with warmth and reassurance.
The members that were present were Nina Hamilton, a department supervisor from my last job, Martha Richardson, a woman that I recognized in passing from walking to and from work, and Jacob Parker, a supervisor from the cinema.
There were a few people from both the department store and the cinema amongst our passengers, therefore there were a few reunions between several of them.
Their attention then turned to me.
For a split moment they simply stood, observing me.
I had to fight with myself just to stay stood upright without trembling, whilst enduring their scrutiny.
I had never really had much interaction with Nina and I knew nothing at all about Martha.
I had got on well with Jacob, with a similar taste in B-list dark fantasy movies, we always had something to talk about.  Whereas Grant and I had bonded over our tastes in television shows and a boredom killing sense of humour.
After a moment’s pause, Grant came strolling towards me as the others turned their backs, heading inside to show the passengers to their choice of accommodation.
I would be lying if I did not feel a sting, my heart squeezed enough to elicit a sigh, however it was no less than I expected.
In all honesty, I had even prepared myself to be told that I was exiled, or barred or whatever word would mean that I was not allowed to even leave the landing pad.
“Cheer up, love,” Grant ordered me, “today’s a happy day!  Look at all these people you brought home.  We can’t have you walking about with a face like a slapped arse.”
I raised an eye brow along with the side of my mouth.
Regardless of his personal feelings and opinions towards anyone, he was rarely the type to say such things to their face unless it was absolutely necessary or the situation had come to a point.  He would act friendly to his most hated person if he felt like it.
I had known, without a doubt, that he would treat me as he ever had done.  A part of me was relieved at the lack of confrontation, however the feeling of not knowing what he was truly thinking was unnerving.  Especially when he had such a position of responsibility and influential power.
I had resigned myself to the idea of being ostracized on a large scale, therefore I was able to let it go.
“Thank you,” I relaxed in a way that he could see in my body language, “I don’t think I’ll be taking that tour today, I can already feel the unease that is basically oozing in from every direction.  I think that it would be best if I stayed out of sight, as much as possible, whilst I’m here.”
He eyed me with curiosity, “so you really can feel what everyone else feels.  That’s pretty awesome.  I wish I could do that, it would make my job sooooo much easier.  How specific is it?  What am I thinking right now?”
“I hate to disappoint you, but I can’t read you thoughts,” I told him, “I can feel what you feel emotionally, and sometimes physically, if the sensation is strong enough.”  It took a moment, but his face slowly became solemn, as though just realizing that I was probably referring to the passengers of the Screnac.3 and those that followed after.
“Then,” the tone of his voice matched the look on his face, “when that ship blew up…  You felt it happen?”
I nodded, “every death that has happened since we got stuck on Kenglowe, I’ve felt.”
The breath than he took in was held for several moments before it was release again, “shit.  That’s…”
“Yeah,” I replied before he was forced to try to come up with a mediocre word that did not even begin to explain how it had felt.
We stood in silence for several more lals.
He had been in a genuinely good mood when we had arrived and even overlapping to when he had begun talking to me.  There had been a hint of sadness buried within him, however it was the same sorrow that now resides within every human heart, which had been set aside for the sake of the day-to-day.
What then began to wash out of him was pity.
Anger, hatred and pain I have come to expect and can deal with as, in every single case, it is justified.
However I have yet to build up a tolerance to pity.
It does nothing but make me feel weak.
I feel as though the people who feel it towards me, see me as feeble or incapable, like they think less of me.
Whilst I do understand that pity is simply a more petty form of sympathy, and an entirely involuntary reaction at that, my anxiety likes to make sure that my common sense is overridden with paranoia.
Opening my mouth wide, I took an exaggerated breath, “I can also feel that I’ve ruined your good mood.  Sorry ‘bout that.”
He shot me half smile, tilted his head and spoke, “nah, it’s okay.  I knew, y’know, about the absorbing-emotion thing, I just never really considered what it meant for you.  I think that the whole insanely-powerful-telekinesis was really stuck in my mind.”
I sniggered a little and nodded, “I can understand that.  I’m certain that it would be wise to avoid Chasity during this trip.  I sent her a message to apologize for throwing her across the room, but, oddly enough, she hasn’t responded at all.”
Stretching his arm towards the entrance to the building to, we began to make our way inside.
“I think that it’s because, whatever she wants to say, or do, she wants to do so in person,” Grant told me, before quickly raising his hands, “don’t worry, she doesn’t even know that you’re coming here today.  We gave her, and her little group of followers, something to keep them busy.”
“That’s probably wise,” I fought to hide my relief, a confrontation with her was fairly far down the list of things that I would really rather not have to deal with, “I still think it best if I don’t venture around Dawn today.  Is there somewhere secluded from where I can meet people?”
We paused in our walk, having reached the lift, “if that’s really what you think would be best, I’m not gonna push you.  I did think it was a little too soon for everyone to be ready to accept you here,” he called the platform to our floor, and hastened to add, “not that you’re not welcome or anything, it’s as much your home as it is any of theirs.  I just meant that it’s hard for them to see you without being reminded of, you know, everything.”
“I know,” I tried to reassure him, “I’m prepared to be a pariah for as long as it takes.  Even if that takes the rest of my life which, as we’re all constantly reminded, won’t likely be for a very long time.”
A strange look flashed across his face.  He tried to hide it quickly, yet I managed to catch it.
“What?” I unconsciously called him on it.
His eyes widened momentarily, as he realized his mistake, “nothing.  Really, it’s not… a thing.  It’s just, it changes.  The dream, or vision, or whatever you want to call it.  Only little things; like where certain people are standing, or what they're wearing, or, I don’t really know, just, like, little things that you wouldn’t necessarily notice unless you were seeing it on a regular basis.  Which, y’know, every night for the past however long, kinda falls into that category.”
The lift arrived and we stepped in.
“That’s my doing,” Desmosa spoke up from where she and the others had followed behind us.
Joining us in the lift, she continued, “every day that passes introduces more information and variables that are taken into the prediction’s calculations, which updates the vision that is stored in Laura’s eye, which is then transmitted to you.”
Grant cast me a confused look, “in your eye?”
I took my glasses off and extended my neck to bring my head a little closer so that he could see the glow from its mechanics.
“Are you aware that you don’t have any eyelashes?”
“You know what?  Oddly enough, yes, I am aware.”
He scrutinized it for a few moments longer.
His closeness did not bother me as much as most other people would have.  I think my head completely eliminates gay men as any kind of confusion due to the more limited possibilities of our interactions.
“So,” he said with a casual tone whilst pulling back, “how the fuck did that happen?”
“Well,” I took a moment to consider the best way to describe what happened, “the original one kinda melted…”
Desmosa tentatively raised her hand, “also, sort of, my doing.”
The confusion on his face did not disappear, yet was joined by surprise and intrigue, “whaaaat?”
Desmosa and I shared a smile, “it’s a long story,” I breathed out a laugh as I spoke.
“Well, let me arrange some lunch and tell me everything,” he exclaimed, “I’m also expecting a demonstration of your powers at some point.  You don’t think you could make me fly do you?”
The almost genuine laughter that followed was cut short as the doors opened to the ground floor and a familiar voice spoke.
“Hello, Laura.”