Alien music (Five minutes freewrite)

That night she fell asleep to the sounds of the mystery tape. It still felt like music, although she had no reason to contradict the computer's official verdict – it was some sort of a language, a means of communication, albeit a very strange one. It had taken the computer two whole days to make any sense of it and come up with a tentative translation.
She had read it many times and knew it was that she was going to do for the term paper. Her teacher was shocked and threatened her with failing the final exam.
'I will not have conspiracy theory and absurd hypothesis in my class. You should know better than to believe all the nonsense out there'.
She had trouble understanding the translation as it spoke of things wholly unfamiliar to her.

'Although I was born long after the big clouds came, my kin told of a beautiful place where trees were green all the time, young ones laughed and played in the fields, under a big yellow sun. When they got tired, they went to their homes and had a glass of milk with homemade jams on fresh bread. I don't know what they tasted like and my parents didn't know either.
Then they played some more, kick a ball or ride their bikes.
That was before they let out the great fire, that did not bring warmth, but eternal cold.
I was born in the cold ant there were no more children born after me. I am 14 now and the last of my species. There are no bikes for me to ride, no one to kick the ball with, no future waiting for me to build it. Also, I have never seen the sun, but they say it's a million times brighter than the light we have in here. All there is left for me to do is tell the story hoping that someone will find it someday. As long as someone remembers us we're not really dead, are we? I wonder – can you remember us if you've never known us?'

The recording was very long and went on to speak of places and things that had no meaning to her.
Yet, she could not agree with her teacher who was of adamant no such place or people ever existed.
'The whole story stinks, my dear. Do you honestly want me to believe that the recording was discovered in the memory of some rudimentary computer on a flying piece of junk?'
The transcript alone was indeed questionable, there were so many weird things in the story. On the other hand, if you go to all the trouble of creating a hoax, why not make it credible?
But it was not the text that fascinated her, but the voice on the tape. There was so much sadness in that voice, she could almost picture the cold underground bunker where the boy said he was living. Where he died, too, most probably. The last fragile link with the world a computer far away, on a lonely vessel orbiting a dying planet.
'There has never been any life in that part of the Milky Way. It's just a dark corner of the sky with a bunch of inhospitable planets orbiting a dying sun. Besides us there's no evidence of other intelligent life form in the Universe.'
She owed it to the boy in the bunker, to tell the story. As the voice on the tape was so alien to her species, she decided to do the presentation first, then have them listen to the strange music.
'There once was a small planet called Earth'.

Story written for @mariannewest's freewrite challenge. Today's prompt was: her homemade jams. Check out her blog and join our freewrite community.

Image: Unsplash