The sun was low over Havana, casting long shadows across the worn rooftops. Rafael stood at the edge of the plaza, hands resting lightly on the iron railing, watching the city exhale into evening.

  A boy darted past, laughing, a makeshift kite fluttering wildly behind him. Rafael smiled. It was so simple — a child chasing the sky, asking for nothing in return.

  He turned his gaze higher, tracing the faint arc of a satellite crawling across the early stars. Humanity’s fingerprints, reaching into the heavens. It was easy to feel proud. Easy to believe we were chasing something noble — exploration, knowledge, destiny.

  And yet, Rafael thought with a hint of sadness, so little of it was truly about discovery.

  The rockets, the satellites, the promises of Mars — they all wore the language of adventure, but underneath, they followed an older map. A familiar compass, pointing steadily toward profit. Starlink was not just a way to connect the world; it was a business, selling connection back down to Earth. Even Mars, glorious and red in every poster, was talked about in ways that made sense only here, on this planet — because selling the dream to Earth’s buyers still made money.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  But what then? Who would buy once the frontier stretched beyond anyone's reach? There were no customers on Mars. No markets on the asteroids. No buyers hiding in the cold dark.

  Mining asteroids? A dream, yes. But bringing back metals would only flood Earth's markets, drive prices down, and hurt the very profits that launched the dreams in the first place. No company would rush toward a future where the reward was a loss.

  Even the simplest promise of the future — children — had been weighed on the same invisible scale. Once seen as blessings, they were now measured as costs, especially in a world that demanded longer and costlier education. Investment that never paid off — by the time children were grown, returns out of reach. And so, little by little, the world grew quieter, shrinking from its own future.

  It was strange, Rafael thought, how humanity — this brilliant, restless species — could behave like a giant slow creature, crawling always toward the next glint of gold, blind to anything it could not spend.

  And if there were no profits beyond Earth, then we would stay here. Grounded. Rooted. Waiting.

  Waiting, perhaps, for the same fate that once befell the dinosaurs — a rock from the sky, as a final silent ledger.