Seven Days

To look to the stars was to stare into the eyes of God. When the skies became dark, we lost our humanity. That summer all of the human race had a crick in their necks from staring up.

I remember the last star I ever saw. It blinked out of view behind a too-tall skyscraper the night before the first Columbus mission. The smog had become so thick, it blocked out the sky. I was standing on my balcony with my family and a bottle of champagne. There was so much hope then. It burned behind every eye that looked to the heavens. I feel some regret extinguishing the last of those flames.

The last contact with the crew of the Columbus I mission occurred exactly 604,800.30 seconds after takeoff. Seven days. The last message was simple: SOS, sent in Morse code, three times, with three seconds between each broadcast. The same message was sent on every following Columbus mission, exactly seven days after takeoff. My message is much longer and serves a much deeper purpose. When you receive this message, it will have been exactly 604,800 seconds since my takeoff. When it arrives on Earth, it will be translated into seven different languages, and published across every boundary. Ironically, it will be my most successful publication, objectively.

To begin, Aurora, I am deeply sorry. Not only am I condemning your generation, but every generation thereafter. I don’t do this lightly. You were the light of my life. You are strong, passionate, and kind. Enjoy every day. Remember what I told you before I left.

Sam, we raised a good one. I love you both. You never asked for this, but supported me regardless. You are the best of us all.

To those reading this, I apologize. It is not going to be what you wanted.

When humanity asked me to lay down my life for them, my daughter was the first person I thought of. She will endure no small amount of suffering.

It was you who ravaged the Earth of her resources, making it inhospitable. It was you who sent three brave souls to their demise in search of a Plan B: Sandra Almeda aboard the Nina, Theodore (Teddy) Mackenzie aboard the Pinta, and Elizabeth Cane aboard the Santa Maria. After the distress call and immediate disappearance of Columbus I, you sent a second mission, Columbus II, to recover their ship in search of information. When Columbus II, and the subsequent probe, also went missing exactly 604,800.30 seconds after launch, you learned nothing. Instead, in your arrogance, you asked me to use those precious 604,800.30 seconds to collect obscure data, so you might launch more scientists to their doom. This is the mission I now find myself on; Columbus III.

The hubris of the human race knows no bounds.

In my frustration, I have compiled a list of things I would rather spend 604,800.30 seconds doing. See this list below.

Go hiking with my family, to enjoy what little beauty remains on Earth.

Travel to a country where the language is dying, and learn how they say ‘I love you’.

Have every one of my hundreds of neighbors in my apartment building over for breakfast, just to ask them about their week.

Learn how to paint. I am so terrible at art.

Study the changes of one specific tide pool over every high and low tide across seven days.

Try food from all of the restaurants within a walkable distance from where I live

Sit around in my apartment with my family doing absolutely nothing simply because I can.

Finish writing one of my many half-finished papers.

Learn how to cook. I never got the hang of that.

Compile a list of all of my favorite things about life on Earth

By this point you are most likely discouraged, and probably rightfully enraged. I cannot end this, the last of humanity’s broadcasts from space, without answering a few of your burning questions.

Firstly, yes, the galaxy looks beautiful from here.

Second, after the Sixth Mass Extinction, my prediction is that the insects will rule the Earth. We’ve watched the locusts destroy our fields, the ants invade every crevice of our homes, and the gnats thrive in ungodly temperatures. After nuclear warfare was used, maggots were the only survivors, and fastest successors. It proved that many insects are much more tolerant to radiation than larger mammals. After we destroy ourselves, the things we’ve sought to destroy will take their place upon the throne of the ecological world.

Third, the answer to the question all of humanity is asking: What happened to those astronauts?

It was not just the American astronauts who went dark. The Russians, Chinese, Israeli, and a group of neutral, non-national astronauts all went missing. 604,800.30 seconds after takeoff. The final message of all four crews? …- - -... .

This information was not broadcast on American news. In some attempt at isolationist propaganda, the U.S. wanted its citizens to believe that we were the only country trying (and failing) to save the human race. Ironically, the Russians, Chinese, and Israeli all wanted the same. No country wanted to admit that both the effort, and the failure were universal.

When the world finally banded together in an attempt to throw one last Hail Mary into the universe, they chose me. There is no more time and too few resources to rely on anything else. You asked me to be your saving grace. I feel some regret now, stealing your hope. Because of me your great grandchildren will have no future. You all sent me to answer this question. Where did all the astronauts go? I cannot answer that. I will not answer that.

As a scientist, I have a theory. After spending a decade studying the stars, there is only one thing I can say about the universe with absolute certainty: the human race was trying to go somewhere they did not belong. We exist to live and die on Earth.

The cosmos is beyond human comprehension. A thing above sentient carbon life. It carries more memory, more emotion, more connection than the entirety of our species. It protects and balances itself.

I’m not God-fearing, but I do believe in one thing. Humans were never meant to shoot themselves to heaven. If they were, we would have never invented religion in the first place.

Receive this as my official obituary.

Good night Houston.

Sincerely,

The last astronaut.