A Wayfarer's Pilgrimage to Extraterrestrial Lands: 0 Chapter 2: No Title Given

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... I stayed silent as my eyes drew to the endless sea. Piles of boxes were stacked on top of one another as the guy behind me listed them one by one. The smell of nostalgia and saltwater was mixed in as the winds picked up its speed. In the distance, a storm was brewing—forming a spiral that puts tornados to shame. A spiral so heavy and dense, people would've fled miles away from it. But here, they weren't particularly worried about it. "Sir, that's all of it." The guy tipped his hardhat in a polite gesture. The cypress wood flooring creaked as he walked. As the wheelbarrow retreated and the door was shut, I began to rummage through my belongings stuffed inside the boxes. An important accessory stood out. A pendant. Made from melted scrap metal, revealing a nice case hardened look. It's designed with several intricate patterns aside from the blue streaks. Inside, people can be seen. Their faces were all smudged with ink. While writing a letter on my journey, the carriage jolted erratically, spilling my ink bottle. As I cleaned it up, it became like this. I feel like it's a sign, but I'm sure it's just coincidental. *** "..." The sea returned its winds like a subtle sigh—cold and indifferent. Did it notice my sense of longing? Several empty boxes I folded are neatly placed in the corner as the apartment becomes more lively. The pendant rested its chains around my neck, the head hanging on my chest. I continued cleaning the place that I'll be calling my home. The neighbors gifted me a laundry machine and an air conditioner as a welcoming gift. I told them I don't need this, but they said it's a waste if they didn't do anything with it—so I took it. "Phew..." I breathed a sigh of relief and contentment as I wiped my sweat. With a few tutorials on YouTube and a lot of research, I managed to do nothing about the gifts. Left with no choice, I called the technicians. I guess I did a good job cleaning. But time told me I took way too long, and it was already 7pm. I had no time to make dinner. "Ah..." ... As the night reached its peak, the combination of cold winds and harsh waves made this place colder than winter itself. I walked through the streets as the cars whizzed past in urgency. The word "trash" doesn't seem to exist in this Institute. Everything is clean and spotless. Even if a thread of hair were to fall on the pavement, a cylinder robot would come to clean up the spot. Really advanced... Is it even possible for boomers to get accustomed to rapid development? I've seen old people go into competitive gaming before, so I guess it's more of how they are willing to accept change... Trees continued to sway in an ensemble. The leaves danced in the moonlight and the stars gleamed against the darkness far away. My steps interrupted nature's music—a tone-deaf melody. The lights of the convenience store came to view like hope in despair. As I arrived inside, the smell of artificial cold from the AC and the cute chime as it announced my arrival were what I would expect. *Dun, dudun!* There was no one except for the receptionist trying her best not to doze off. There's a V-shaped yellow and green shield pin contrasting her red apron. She's a new hire it seems. Sifting through several lunch boxes, none are really what I'm looking for. Their portions are small—like they're cutting costs for a better plastic container. The packaging is a blatant lie as well; the label brags about "even meatier!" but it's ironically light. I had no choice but to find a place to eat. Their selection of drinks is pretty good though, I'll grab one and try to explore the place. As I picked my drink and moved to the counter, the receptionist had already fallen asleep—a trail of drool traced onto the counter. She is pretty. Even if her long, dark-blue hair partially blocks a portion of her face as the flower pin glistens in red and green hues, she emanates a certain charm. "Um..?" I paused. My hand hovered an inch away from her. I hesitated for a bit, before I p