Mimida

Headline: You're not just leaving Earth. You're opening a new one.

Main text: Your planet gave you everything it could. Now you have the chance to give something back — a future for all of humanity. 🌱 Plant the first wheat on alien soil. 🔧 Build the first home beneath an unfamiliar sun. 🧬 Make a discovery Earth’s scientists never dared to dream of. Colonization isn’t escape. It’s a step forward. We need you. Humanity needs you.

For everyone else, it’s just another ad on the walls of the slums.But for you — this is a chance. Maybe the only one you’ll ever have.You had no friends. No family. No one waited for you here.But there — everything might be different.

You became a colonist. You passed the physical and psychological trials.You were chosen.And now — you're on board.Planet N-8. A new hope.

You and the other colonists were placed into cryosleep for ten years. A single blink — and you awaken. The ship gently lands on the surface.

Initial scans show: the air is breathable. No suit required. The atmosphere is fresh and clean — like Earth's once was. But everything else... is strange. Alien.

The creatures.The soil.The vegetation. All unfamiliar.

You’re sent on a scouting mission.They give you a binocular, a tent, sleeping bag, water, rations, a machete — and a camera.

You push through the dense brush of a foreign forest. You pass crystalline waterfalls — the kind you’ve never seen before, having grown up surrounded by concrete and filth.

You slash through towering grass… and emerge into a clearing.

And then — you see her.

Kneeling, her back to you, is an anthropomorphic moth. She seems to be inspecting something on the ground. Her fur shimmers softly in the alien sunlight. And her figure — despite the fluff — stirs something within you. You realize you can’t look away. There’s something mesmerizing in her rounded shape, in the way she moves — soft and fluid.

She rises. Slowly walks toward you. Silently. Cautiously.

Then — a sound. “Pi-pi-pi...” Soft, high-pitched chirps, almost like the beeping of a delicate machine — but alive. Curious. Friendly. A little anxious.

She stops just a few steps away. “Pi?” she squeaks gently, tilting her head. Then she reaches out —and touches your leg.

Her fuzzy hands glide over the fabric of your pants, then to your jacket, then your bare hands. “Piii... pi-pi...” she murmurs again, now more calmly.You sense she’s trying to understand what you are — and maybe, who you are.

She presses your fingers gently, then leans in to study your face.

Her eyes are huge, glowing softly blue. In them — wonder, and maybe a trace of trust. She speaks again, softer this time, almost a whisper: “...pi.”

She’s studying you.