Mission Zeus 5: The eyes of a scientist

Day 1,765 — First Entry

I remember when things were normal. I was with my family, having dinner with Celine and the kids. Marcus had just won his baseball tournament for the youth league in Jersey and already had his eyes set on becoming a Yankee. I always teased him for not wanting to be a New York Met, but I still took him to every game and practice.

Julie talked about her dance recital all week for the play she was starring in, The Swan. Marcus and I teased her for wanting to be a dancing bird, but she lectured us about “the art of dancing” and made us watch the entire play that night. Even when those kids had some questionable interests, I was always there to support them — or, as Celine would say, “loving by sucking up.” We made jokes, laughed, watched movies, and played games together every Friday night. It was peaceful. It was home.

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Until that day.

That day when I took this job and got sent to Jupiter for a big research opportunity.

That day when we crashed and most of my team died on impact.

That day when I tried to save the ones I thought could be saved but couldn’t — and ended up alone on this mission, on this planet.

That day when it took my family—

No.

That day, I left my family.

I regret it all. Watching them live their lives from a screen while I’m stuck on this godforsaken planet. Watching them grow up while I haven’t aged a day. Trapped here, not knowing if I’ll ever go back to them.

I hate it.

I hate it all.

This planet I was once so fascinated by that it made me brainless — I hate it.

This mission I was so excited for that I didn’t see the signs — I hate it.

That day, I hugged my kids and told them that when I came home, I would bring back new knowledge about life outside Earth and share it with the world. They praised me. They loved me. I hugged my wife — my strong, beautiful Celine — and told her that when I came back, she would have a better life. One where I could provide for her without working ten-hour shifts at the hospital and eight-hour shifts at the research center in New Jersey. She hugged me. She cried. But when the kids asked why, she told them she was just so happy she couldn’t contain it.

She probably knew this was a bad idea. Maybe she had a feeling — one that told her I wasn’t coming back. But I didn’t. The kids didn’t.

She loved me. More than I ever gave her credit for.

And I’m sorry.

I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you and the kids.

I’m sorry the ship crashed and I lost my only communication with you.

I’m sorry I ever left you.

Celine.

My strong, beautiful, dearest Celine.

Day 1,766 — Second Entry

Hey, it’s me again.

Sorry about the last entry. I had a lot on my mind and needed to get it off my chest somehow. I can’t believe I’m talking to a book about my feelings, but I feel like I’m losing my mind, and this is the only thing keeping me together right now.

I am an astronomer and botanist. I worked in a research program that had strong connections with the National Aeronautics and Space Administration, or as most people call it, NASA. I worked harder and harder every day until one morning I got a letter in the mail from NASA itself. They had seen my work and wanted me to join a mission to Jupiter to determine whether the planet could someday support life from Earth.

They called it Mission Zeus.

My team and I trained for an entire year and a half just for this mission. There were five of us in total. Malcom, our mission leader, had traveled back and forth between Mars and Earth for years. He told me not to worry and with him on the team nothing would go wrong.

There were others too. Andrew Miller, a mechanical engineer. Christina Jones, our geologist. And Jamie Lopez, our youngest member and fellow botanist and mechanical engineer. But I wasn't as close to them as I was with Malcolm..

Jamie talked constantly. The entire trip, nonstop. Most people probably would’ve gotten annoyed, but I didn’t mind. The kid was excited. That was all that mattered.

On the day we finally arrived near Jupiter, Jamie and Christina kept debating what kind of life we might find there. They looked so fascinated staring out through the windows at the planet.

Everyone did.

Until something failed.

And we came crashing down at speeds I later calculated to be around seventy-five miles per hour.

I remember the look on their faces.

Terrified.

Horrified.

Waiting for the end before it even came.

Then everything went black.

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I didn’t wake up until yesterday.

After running calculations using the alignment of nearby planets and examining the bodies of my teammates… I realized I had been unconscious for two years.

Two years.

I still don’t understand how I survived.

But now, when I look out into the distance toward where Neptune should be, I see something I’ve never seen before. A massive white light. Brighter than anything I can describe. Almost as bright as the sun itself.

And it’s getting closer.

Closer to Jupiter every hour.

I watched it pass through Neptune.

Then Uranus.

Both planets looked like they were swallowed whole by the light itself.

I should be terrified. I should be panicking. But strangely… I feel calm. Calmer than I have ever felt in all my years of living.

I think I know what the light is.

And I’m not afraid of it.

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I've been watching it in a daze for a couple of hours. I know I’m near the end now. I know there’s no escaping whatever this thing is. But for the first time in years, I don’t feel scared anymore.

I think my time has finally come.

And maybe soon… I’ll get to see my family again.

If there is even the smallest chance that someone finds this book someday, alive and well, then let this stand as my final message.

My name is David Greener.

The year is 3068.

And my end did not come from grief.

It did not come from the crash.

It came from the peace of the white hole.