Lost in Space

It’s a beautifully out-of-this-world scenery, it’s so vast and untouchable, it’s lonely. Michael feels detached from everything he has ever and never experienced. The sense of time and space that has been stretched far away from him suddenly flashes by like an illusion in his sight. As his body stops spinning aimlessly, reality strikes his jumbled brain – he’s lost, forever. He squints his eyes, recalling the past events.

Michael and the other boys were gearing up to grab some ‘fresh air’ out of their spaceship. Nothing special was going on, except the whistling back engine that required some repairing here and there. He double-checked the wires attached, knocked on his transparent helmet for no literal reason a couple of times, and stepped out for another episode of spacewalking. From his communication device, a classical piece soothed his eardrums. Michael hummed along with the melody, glancing at his mates with a soft grin once in a while.

The peaceful event passed by with light chit-chats and corny jokes. “What did the ocean say to the beach?” One crew chimed in the radio. He ignored it, knowing Dan would eventually crack at his own words. Turning the last screw to close the pod, he noticed a tiny little object accelerating at an unimaginable speed. It banged on the edge of his spacesuit, breaking off the rusty cable, and pushed him away to the endless void.

Now, Michael’s here, wherever ‘here’ defines, floating without care. From his peripheral view, the small planet Earth calmly rotates, showing off its colorful landscapes. He chuckles to himself from the lack of words to fill in the silence inside his suffocating suit. “I can’t get back home.” Half an hour flies in a blink, or half an hour is what he expects. It’s hard to tell.

Michael loves being an astronaut, it drives him far from the rotten house he lived in. Humans around were such a nuisance, never really having a pleasant view towards him. The smell of smoky cities and melting nature were not his cup of tea. The churning faces screaming annoyance and anger beat the sunshine of happiness and sadness. Michael told himself, living on Earth wasn't worth it. Living in space is peak serene peace if he was to describe.

The irony of those negative statements, Michael misses that stinky giant ball that sustains uncountable various forms of creatures. He shuts his eyelids for a good moment, a tear flows down. “Why am I crying?” Michael can’t exactly figure this particular occurrence out. Is it because of the piled-up and mixed emotions? Or is it because he’s not feeling anything right now? He gives up, he just lets the subconscious area guides him in an internal journey.

Michael reminisces back, everything that he can possibly remember to play around with before his oxygen supply thins out. Not much besides his pet cat purring at the touch of his rough palms and the bag of cereals he munched on every morning. That was it. He switches to a more recent one, maybe the last social interaction he had with a fellow species. He sings the same piece again and again, figuring out the violin’s wonderful technique.

 The last conversation he heard was a damn dad joke, Michael believes the question to be the best and worst last thing he experienced. He works that wild nonsensical logic of him and digs up an answer. “The sea said nothing, the sea just waved.” Michael laughed wholeheartedly replacing Dan’s dry giggles. It’s sort of depressing but at least the silent won’t be the one killing him.

Michael has had enough of all the bad thoughts crossing his mind. He likes to call himself a realist rather than a pessimist, it has a better ring. Michael hates to admit but now is the right time to find some compliments and good things to lighten up the air around him. He can’t let the carbon dioxide suppresses him in a somber way. No, it’s just Michael slowly losing his sanity as the seven-and-a-half hour comes slowly nearer to zero.

It’s a blessing that Michael was blast off to space instead of the Earth’s atmosphere. It would have been a painful death if he got burned to ashes, being pulled down by gravity in an astounding amount of speed. That’s a good point, Michael remembers his middle school physic lesson. It’s an impressive achievement to be able to reach his dream of becoming an astronaut, being one of the few who have gone to space out of the whole population. Michael pats his head. It’s comforting yet pathetic at the same time.

He cuts off his imaginations and examines his surroundings, appreciating the last panorama that will be carved in his last breaths. The fading glimmers of stars light-years away, Earth itself as a ball and not flat like his butt, the galaxies that he isn’t sure if it is truly galaxies because of the color gradients and his blurred eyesight. Michael’s tears drop down heavily, he still doesn’t know why. He desperately needs someone to break down his feelings and his heart’s real desires but he’s now all alone.

Everything beautiful comes at a cost. Michael breaks his inner barrier, convincing himself he’s not going to die with regrets left behind. He deserves to see the beauty of the undiscovered as a final peek of the mortal world. The last reward for accomplishing his life’s harsh trip, he finally grasps that almost disappearing happiness. A wonderful bright end of the dark demeaning tunnel. He doesn’t care if his body’s going to get lit up by a nearby scorching planet or gets decomposed by the remaining air stuffed in this spacesuit.

Michael becomes a whole new person, viewing the world and universe so differently with the same brain after the sudden accident. It would be better if he noticed his suffering heart and mend all the broken pieces together earlier but he’s throwing them aside for now. He will have no regrets and die a happy man.