Black Sea

As I drifted aimlessly amidst the sea of stars, I peered through the ship’s window. A massive blue sphere appeared. Fluffy clouds were wrapped around it like a protective coat, and below the clouds, messy patches of terrain could be spotted adding some color variety to the otherwise completely blue mass. This blue mass was none other than planet Earth.

In the two years that I had spent on this mission, I had never gotten tired of the view. With the sun eagerly making itself visible from behind the planet, I swiftly raised my arm to cover my eyes. I remembered how brilliantly it shone in Adairsville, and it was even more boastful up here in the vacuum. I muttered to myself, realizing that it must have still been nighttime in my hometown.

Bracing myself against the opposite wall as swimmers do, I lunged forward and grabbed the sun-shade and pulled it down over the window. Though I felt that I had a decent night’s rest, my body still ached thoroughly, letting me know that I needed to stretch. I grabbed onto a nearby shelf and flipped the anti-gravity switch to the “on” configuration. Since I entered orbit, I had made it a habit of sleeping in anti-grav. Something about the sensation felt surreal and somewhat calming, and it even gave way to many lucid dreams. I landed on the ground roughly two minutes after, and after waiting for my body to regain its balance now that I was once again on solid ground, I began my morning routine.

One hundred jumping-jacks, fifty squats, fifty crunches, and fifty push-ups were the first things I needed to knock out -I would do cardio later on in the day. Then, I would brush my teeth twice. After was breakfast, which for today was sausage and bread. Most of the pilots complained about the food they sent us up with, but to me, it was more fascinating than anything. That fascination had lasted me for two years, and I was able to ignore the disappointing taste because of it.

I took my food out of one of the shelves in my quarters and plopped down on my bed. The sheets had been barely moved out of place, making the bed firm against my weight. Seeing as this was a one-man vessel, I was limited in how I could make use of space.

It was typically against protocol to send pilots off for solo missions, but I had some pull in the Association. Time and time again, I blew them away with my work. They could not deny my results. In fact, the mission was arranged as a result of some research I had conducted about electromagnetism in space. Though the safety department warned against the solo mission, I insisted that I could produce better results by myself- as I had always done. Thankfully, the higher-ups ended up giving me permission to embark on one of two solo missions ever done by the Association.

I played with the space food on my tongue, observing its curious texture. I looked through the window on the opposite side of the one facing Earth. Every few days, I would be able to see the moon through that window, floating solemnly alone in the black sea.

From the outside, the moon seemed to be isolated from the earth. There was so much visible space (no pun intended) between the two bodies that one could hardly tell that they were associated. To me, the moon seemed to be an outcast. While the earth was warm, lush, and full of life, the moon was cold, desolate, and completely empty. I figured that the moon must be quite lonely. After all, it did get quiet out in the land above the clouds. It was in these moments that I felt sympathy for the moon that I would take out my sketchbook and draw the moon as if she were a living, breathing person. I would imagine the two of us going bowling, playing football, and discussing astrophysics in the lab. I thought that I would be a proper friend for her, and I would occasionally (and embarrassingly) make voices to mimic what she would say in these situations.

However, that morning I saw something else. A massive chunk of space debris was drifting mutely towards the space shuttle. Flames danced around the rocky mass almost as if they were reuniting with a long lost relative. I quickly scarved down my food and made my way to the cockpit. I muttered my way through the initiation sequence and braced myself for flight. I glanced at the window and watched in horror as the meteoroid rapidly grew in its frame. I had not flown the shuttle since initial liftoff and had to wait for the thrusters to warm up.

How was I not alerted to this amount of space debris approaching the shuttle? It was certainly peculiar that the Association had not caught something this huge in the earth’s orbit, though I realized that I had not received a check in for some time. Quickly, tuned into the Association’s headquarters on the panel, but I was alarmingly met with silence; no static, no crackling, just nothing. How long had communications been cut? While my surroundings were deafeningly silent, my mind reached mezzo forte with different versions of my voice reminding me how bad the situation was. How long have I been up here?

The thrusters kicked in. Pulling hard on the controls, I desperately begged the shuttle to move out of the way. My feeble container shook violently, nearly causing me to fly out of my seat. The silence was broken by a loud whirring noise, but I looked through the cockpit window and was relieved to see that my position was changing relative to the earth. I continued to fly, pushing myself and my shuttle. I fought the urge to seek out the meteoroid; I just needed to get out in that moment.

After what felt like an eternity, I killed the thrusters and let my body settle down. I was not exactly sure where I was or how far I had flown, but I felt that I had gone far enough.

WHAM!

The shuttle shook as it made contact the with space debris. I was thankful that I still had my harness on from piloting the shuttle, or else I might have flown straight through the cockpit. The interior of the shuttle suddenly turned from white, to black, to red as the emergency lights came on. I slowly unbuckled myself, grabbing onto something nearby to hoist myself up. As I rose, the blinking screen above me caught my eye.

“WARNING: SHUTTLE THRUSTERS OFFLINE. WINDOW COMPROMISED.”

There was nothing I could do about the thrusters, but I needed to fill the window. Fast. I swiftly gathered some specialized glue from the emergency cabinet and searched for the broken window. After some checking, I found that the damaged window appeared to be the same one where I was initially greeted by the meteoroid. I patched it as quickly and as thoroughly as I could, desperately trying to limit the amount of oxygen being lost, and I sank down to the floor as soon as I had finished the job.

Exhausted, I threw my head against the wall, chuckling. I had escaped certain death, whether by luck or by fate. I continued to laugh. I almost died. I began to calm down, and I slowly rose to my feet. I swiped on the anti-grav switch, letting it carry me off of the floor and into my favorite place -I needed to find a way to decompress. Taking my sketchbook, I flipped through the pages. Aside from the artwork I made of the moon and I, there were other pieces in the sketchbook that I liked to dedicate some time to. I continued to flip, but finding the page I wanted was made difficult by the aggressive red lighting that flooded the room.

“There you are,” I said aloud as I landed on the page I was looking for. In my hands, I held a picture of my mother, father, and siblings. It was something I drew just before taking off as a sort of memorabilia for myself.

Since I was a child, I always knew that I wanted to go to space. There was not a specific person in my life who influenced me down that path - it was something that I simply chose for myself. Just about everyone was content with living and dying on Earth, and experiencing all that life has to offer down there.

I was different, however. I never became interested in many of the things that normal people did, such as dating or playing tele-games or cheese skating. To me, those things were all boring. Even when my family asked me to go to watch the movies with them, I begrudgingly went with them. After all, movies were just about people trying to leave a vestige of themselves behind in the world- to leave a legacy. Even my father was a believer of such things, establishing a family farm when he was younger to put his family name on the land. But I realized something one day as he scolded me for not helping around the farm: humanity has a very short-term memory.

Unless someone accomplishes something that is truly remarkable or develops something essential, humanity long forgets it. People often forget things that do not immediately concern them as we simply have too much to worry about. It did not make sense to me to try and engrave myself upon the world. After all, it was hard to say that everyone was worth remembering to each individual person.

Instead of trying to please humanity, I decided that I would do something to please myself: I would see with my own eyes what lay beyond the heavens, and I would highlight my short lifespan with a view that was worth a thousand years. I studied profusely each year and consequentially provided stellar results each time. I rose far above my peers and won national recognition, but it was not enough. To be a pilot meant to be the best of the best, and I knew that I needed to improve. I attended countless seminars and even picked up a few part time jobs to pay for night classes.

With each success, I felt I was closer to my goal, but I also felt further away from the people around me than ever before. I would go weeks without talking to any family members as I honed in on my studies and lost many friends after failing to keep in touch. I became known as the “Lone Voyager” amongst my peers, but I took the name in stride. All I needed were results - I could live with the ridicule.

When I sent letters to my family that I had been selected to go on the mission, I had hoped for a congratulatory reply or some words of encouragement, but my message was never returned. I understood, however. Whether they were happy for me or not did not concern me; I just needed to let them know my results.

In the end, I accomplished my dream of making it to the stars. I had achieved a feat that fewer than 100 humans in all of history had ever done. I was a man above the heavens, something that my ancestors could have only dreamed of, but…

I held the picture tighter, honing in on the picture of my mother. I could not remember what her voice sounded like. My eyes darted to my father, then my older brother, and finally my younger sister. I could not remember any of their voices, let alone their mannerisms or personalities. I looked closely at my sister’s face again. How old was she now? Did she say she wanted to be a nurse?

My eyes began to flood with tears as the realization hit me. I turned to look at the vast planet that I called home for nearly 30 years. Had I died in that collision with the debris, would there be anyone in the entire world that would have cared if I was gone? I did not think about death often, but this situation brought back the fear and despair. I existed as a ghost to my family and my peers, figuratively, but what if it was literal too? Would anyone remember me after I was gone?

As I sobbed, I turned to the opposite window, with its frame filled with an array of stars laying across a black sea. In my quest to journey beyond the heavens, did I instead create my own personal Hell in this void where no one can even hear you scream?

Just then, the communication system by the cockpit rang abruptly. I scrambled to dial in and wiped my face as I answered.

“Hello?” I started, anticipating the cold voice of Admiral Sterling.

“Will?” It was a different voice, a voice I had not heard for sometime but was easily recognizable once my ears intercepted it. I tears started rolling again as I thank the heavens for giving me more than I deserved.

“Ma, is that you?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes, it’s me. I am so glad that you’re okay,” she said, sounding as if she were also crying. I heard everyone else bustling in the background, and I smile came to my face.

“I heard you made it to space Will. Was it worth it?”