Detour to the Stars

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say.

They also said no one would go to space, but the day the first man went up was a victory for the human race.

Did they also ponder about the last person who would go to space?

Did they imagine the day would also feel so victorious?

Did they imagine how horrifying it might be?

Did they imagine my fear, my pain, my hopelessness?

Probably not, considering I didn't even imagine it would be me who would be the last one to go.

This spaceship is so cold. I never noticed how cold it was. Why is it so cold?

The training mentioned the cold temperatures would help keep the body calm- calm body, calm mind. So they say. To be honest, it’s probably because this big hunk of metal is too big for my body heat to fill up alone. Or I can't help but focus on everything I hate right now.

I’ve always hated the cold.

I’ve been trying to find a way to communicate to someone, anyone, for hours now and I've gotten nothing. Just silence. The ship took a couple hits but nothing too serious to worry about for the time being. I’ve already gone over all my oxygen and supply levels three times now. I’ve read all the manuals on this ship twice. God, nothing will distract me from what happened, will it?

I can't shake those images and I swear I'm going to lose my mind.

It's been three- no, two- days since…

I mean what the hell happened?

I suppose it doesn't matter finding the answer if I can't reach anyone out here.

I need to reach someone.

I won't last without help.

Do I want to last; after what happened?

That inhuman, horrific scene.

Right now the answer is no.

I really don’t.

I never been one to give up, but it might be the kinder option for myself.

If I were to really end it all, how would I do it?

Shall I pull an Icarus and fly head first into the sun?

Nah, not me. I never had a flare for the dramatics.

I could just open the hatch, let the galaxy suffocate me as I drown in its abyss.

Ugh, that won't be a pretty picture.

Ha, how ironic to still care about looks as I plot my suicide.

How human of me.

I could fight. I could fight to survive until there is nothing left of me. I could pretend to be naively optimistic and believe that it would all be worth it in the end.

That would be human too.

I let out a sigh, already knowing what I’m going to choose.

You foolish human.

However, I don't know how to fight right now.

Staring into all these swirls of colorful stars and black ocean makes me grateful I still remember what it’s like to be human.

I don't feel human out here.

I can't believe there was a time humanity was eager to go to space. Thanks to their eagerness I'm left in this torment.

Thanks, humanity.

I check my oxygen levels again.

Still good.

I look over to my food supplies again.

Decent.

I decided to play with the radio one last time.

“Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is Commander Jet October, flying Solace Z9-9. My position is currently unknown. I fell off my course to Pluto IEV Base 3 from Earth IEV Base 12 about 2 days ago. My ship has taken some damages and my navigation is offline. I am the only person on board. I am requesting immediate assistance. Does anybody copy?.”

Nothing.

No matter what I feel, I am still human, and sleep is the next logical thing to do. It also just hits me I haven't slept since this whole chaos started. Oh, what the human body can toll.

I open up the sleep pod and crawl in. I set an alarm for 2 hours from now. Should be a long enough rest to help me figure out my next move. I close my eyes trying to ease my nerves and convince my body to relax.

Would I make myself feel worse if I dreamed of Earth?

Probably.

Still worth a shot.

I’ll dream of summer. And the fresh cut grass being watered in the morning. The buzzing of bees outside my window. The sun beaming on my face as I made coffee in the kitchen. The warm beaches with th-

“Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.”