Bronze-colored, fish-shaped ships hovered over the coal field, the orange sun beamed its heat from an orange sky. The wind was both dusty and stale.

Below in the coal field Michael Clayton worked with his silver colored steel shovel and black metal skip on wheels. He shoveled the coal on the ground into the skip. The heat of the sun bringing sweat to the brow of the tall, muscular, sandy-haired white man in his mid-thirties. He was wearing a brown vest, army green trousers which fell over beaten brown boots which were steel tipped. He took no breaks except a few minutes to sip water from a brown canteen. He slaved away until lunch and after lunch he slaved away until the sun set at six.

Constantly reminding himself of his goal, Mike Clayton drove on, shovel into coal, coal into skip, push the skip to the loading bay. His family needed this; needed him to do this job well. The goal was nearly in grasp. They had saved for sixteen years every gold coin he earned. The ship was almost finished or so the engineer he hired told him. Sixteen years to customize an old cargo space craft to save his family to give them a better life, to get them far away from an earth that was void of resources. Yes to take his family to the new planet called Beta.

The rich and the wealthy had already left and settled on planet Alpha, those of the middle class sacrificed all they had to go as well in later flights. The poor of Earth were left to fend for themselves on a dying planet stripped of all resources. No he refused to settle for this existence. Planet Beta was the resource planet; the planet that grew all the food and provided all the minerals Alpha needed. A strong hard-working man such as himself upon reaching Beta would be able to lease a farm and provide well for his family. He would be able to pay off the lease in seven years. His family no longer had to suffer. He had to drive himself, yes he was tired, yes he felt like throwing away the shovel and walking away. Never! He pictured his family, he pictured their joy upon breathing the clean air of a new home; but he also pictured their disappointment if he failed to shovel enough coal. No Michael Clayton would not quit, no he would never give up; the only time he would quit was if he was dead. Michael Clayton was not dead, so Michael Clayton forced himself and all his will power to shovel that extra load of coal.