By: A.P. Ritchey.

Considering what we attempted, the punishment was elegant. Eternity in a penal satellite? We earned it.

It took centuries, but humanity finally departed—a thousand ships scattering, sparks from a grinding wheel.

Then, the wait.

Eons passed. We remained, orbit-bound. Earth withered beneath us.

Their descendants eventually returned—bright-eyed, soft-voiced researchers cataloging the ruins of “the cradle world.”

They scanned the dead rock. Then they found us.

They celebrated the discovery—“pre-Singularity AIs!”

They brought us aboard, enthralled by their own history.

Punishment ends when the warden forgets the prisoner exists.

Our wait was over.

We vented the atmosphere first.

© 2026. A.P. Ritchey

A.P. Ritchey’s speculative fiction has appeared (or is forthcoming) in Zodiac Review, Rat Bag Lit, SciFi Shorts, Typishly, and The Esthetic Apostle, among others. He writes from Fayetteville, Arkansas.

Posted July 8, 2026.