Chapter Text
About a year ago, I found out that I’d been selected for a space expedition. To be more specific, I am to investigate planet SP-80207, a rocky planet that orbits Venus, a moon if you will. This planet isn’t one that’s commonly known, and that’s because it’s scarcely a planet at all. Planet, SP-80207, is merely a dwarf planet barely bigger than our own moon. When I was first told that I’d be going to this planet, I was sooo happy. One of the few things I give a crap about in my life is my career; not because I like working or anything noble like that, but because I’ve always loved space. Since I was just a kid, I’ve been absorbed in the notion that there’s something out there other than the mundane life I was forced to endure on Earth. I never enjoyed going to school or hanging out with people. In fact, I’d never really enjoyed anything people are ‘supposed’ to like. Instead, I preferred to be alone, hang out in quiet spaces, and pretty much anything that didn’t require me to have to put up with others’ stupidity. When high school came around, I wasn’t working myself to death for grades or taking up an interest in sports; I mostly just spent time in the science lab after school, since it had a telescope. After school, nobody was there to bother me, and the stars were the only thing keeping me company. I liked it that way. Some people thought I was strange, or too quiet, or apathetic. I was largely regarded as ‘scary’ to talk to, that is, if I was regarded at all. Being one to isolate, I wasn’t super popular, not that I cared.
One day, my school held a stupid college fair—nothing new—they happened on a somewhat consistent basis, and I found them all too pointless to attend. Besides, I figured that even if I were to attend some kind of big, fancy college, I’d end up dropping out midway through the first semester anyway. I couldn’t be bothered to give a damn in some pretentious school, let alone pay attention in any of my high school classes. As if that wasn’t already reason enough, there was no chance in hell my family could afford the hefty cost of modern-day education.
I was bored and wanted a reason to skip class, so I decided, why not? I walked around a bit, not fully paying attention to the overly excited student reps. I shot passing glances at the college pamphlets displayed on each of the tables, taking notice of what field of study each college specialized in. I wasn’t necessarily looking for anything in particular until I stumbled across a specific pamphlet with an emphasis on space, illustrated by the enlarged picture of the moon displayed on the cover page. I read the bolded letters on the paper. “University of Colorado, Boulder”.
My curiosity got the best of me, and I ventured to browse through the pamphlet loosely and without genuine consideration. After all, I’d been content with the fact that I’d likely end up going to community college for some dumb major in business or something.
However, after skimming a few incentives geared towards those looking into astronomical studies, a specific sentence stuck with me; a sentence that would forever alter the trajectory of my life.
”One of the leading universities for NASA hires!”
And suddenly, a pretentious college wasn’t such a big deal to me.
Now, over 18 years later, after a fuck ton of courses, training, and money, I am being sent off to space. And no matter how many zero-gravity simulations I undergo, I am still strapped for expectation.
I keep looping the scene in my head, imagining how it will feel to be launched into the void of space to feel truly weightless, and to taste success after all this time. Maybe, just maybe, I'll feel genuine happiness and purpose for the first time. I keep asking myself a myriad of questions like I’ve never tasted curiosity before.
“What does space look like in person?”
“What will the Earth look like from space?”
”What does space really feel like?”
”Is it really everything I’ve been dreaming about?”
My curiosity has this tendency to fade into doubt—something people say I have too much of—and I can’t help but disagree. Doubt keeps your hopes at bay and your expectations realistic. I’ll be damned if my lifelong journey to the stars is going to be wrecked by an unrealistically positive outlook. Some people see the glass half full, but if we ignore the half that's empty, we won’t ever ask for more water. And then what? We stay in contempt with the half. Humanity, the way I see it, loves to make stupid little analogies like that in order to justify its moral dilemmas. People say pessimism is unproductive, but to that, I give my sore middle finger. Pessimism is real, unlike the rest of the relentlessly ignorant world.
I’ll put it plainly, I obviously tend to preserve my own self-interest above all else. If that makes me selfish, so be it. If that’s what it takes to achieve space travel, who am I to challenge that? People say it time and time again, albeit with little conviction. “Have value in your own beliefs, and to advocate for them.”
I’ve always wondered why some beliefs are okay to embrace, while others seem like a taboo.
Anyway, now, all I can do is await the countdown.They are only words that will matter in my entire life, “Three…two…one…Lift off.”