"Isolation"
by Brian Bradley
Vignette I - The Asteroid
Captain’s Log: November 19th, 2112
12:16 pm: The Blue Marble is finally out of sight. It has been 7 days since departure. Jimmy and I, since grade school, have always fantasized about being heroic astronauts that would traverse the cosmos. Being the first individuals to make the eight-year voyage to Pluto is as exciting as it is terrifying. This could easily be a Neil Armstrong-level step in society or a one way ticket to Hell.
Our vessel, The Falcon, holds enough provisions for the first three years and farming equipment. Jimmy, being the botanist, will take care of that. It is approximately the size of a two-story colonial home, and has enough things so we don’t go crazy. We have the entire Star Wars saga and every video game under the sun.
We will have communication with Earth up until year five, when communications will be lost. I have contacted immediate family, who talked me out of my first impending panic attack. With time, I will accept the reality that I will never see a tree again.
Our end goal will be to set up liveable structures on Pluto for future generations. We’ll have to set up oxygen and water farms, among many other tasks. I’m ending the log for today, Jimmy and I have hook up to our vitamin drips for our daily nutrients. -Chip
Captain’s Log - December 28th, 2112
2:57 pm: Today will be our first spacewalk! I will continue to type while I’m out there, and log what we see.
5:02 pm: We suited up, and are out now. The view is breathtaking. Floating here in the endless void is so tranquil. Constellations are clearer than ever. I think I see Orion! Oh, and Jimmy says “hi”. There seems to be a shooting star, and yes, I know it is actually an asteroid. It is getting brighter. It appears to be hurtling toward us, leaving a fiery trail. Oh my god.
Captain’s Log - December 29th, 2112
1:47 am: I never thought I would come to. Half of The Falcon has broken off, and drifted into space, and I am lucky to still be connected. Jimmy’s body is floating lifelessly. Debris is cluttering my vision. I don’t think I can go on. This may be the end.
9:12 pm: I couldn’t have just sat in my suit, exposed to the dangers of space for ever. I maneuvered my way around and spent the day securing the exposed areas of The Falcon using the insulation that was meant for our structures on Pluto. Most of the supplies and communications system have been victims of the Asteroid. So here I am. Alone in an insecure vessel tens of thousands of miles away from any life. I may as well just stay on course for Pluto and try not to go insane. No one will read this anyway, so I should just go to sleep. -Chip
Vignette II - Solitude
Captain’s Log - April 8th, 2117
7:19 pm: Jimmy and I had fun today. We played catch, and talked about Earth for a while. He did not have much input however, like always. He has not said too much since the accident. I’ve been doing alright. I started having these dreams in which people and objects from my life on Earth appear on The Falcon, only I’m not asleep when they happen.
I’ve gotten into the habit of spilling my feelings onto the walls of The Falcon as to not get bored. You don’t really notice how expressive of a writer you are until it is the only thing keeping you from self-harm. It has been really difficult keeping in touch with reality. I DON’T KNOW WHAT IS REAL. Mind mind is running in circles, the same thoughts day after day after day after day, endlessly cycling through the broken record that is my head. Thoughts rattle around like marbles in an empty can. Every little thing throws me of the edge. My perception of time is warped beyond belief. I feel like it was just yesterday since I’ve slept last, but according to my watch it has been six. SIX. I only sleep when my body collapses under itself. Jimmy understands, even if he does not have much of a face left.
There is zero semblance of a daily routine, let alone days themselves. What are days? How we measure the steps toward death? I’ve been pulling at the frayed ends of my sanity for too long. I fear I’ll never get off this damn hunk of metal. I need to stop writing before I spiral into another fit.
Vignette III - One Last Breath
It had been 7 years since the accident. Pluto was around the corner, but I did not care. I had lost it, completely gone. Scars and bruises coated my frail figure, The Falcon was a complete wreck, food was running low, and I was left shooting the shit with a corpse. I simply couldn't take it anymore.
I did not expect anything to happen that day. I woke up, my brain swelled with insanity, and paced The Falcon. I was crippling under my own mind and decided to end it. How I kept myself from doing it before baffles me. I embraced the bag of bones that was Jimmy and wept for hours, or at least it felt like it. However, my memory had taken a serious hit. I desperately tried to recount my Earth life, but to no avail. I had stopped signing my name on the captain logs 6 years in, most likely forgetting it.
I tried to talk myself out of killing myself. I tried and tried. But unfortunately, I was as afraid of death as I was of life. Being confined within the walls of The Falcon had done a number on my reasoning skills. I didn’t want to die but I had to. The landing systems were knocked off the ship so I could not even complete the mission. I was a complete failure.
My method of suicide was not easy to find. Hanging was out of the question, the gravity on the ship would not be strong enough. I wanted to be quick, but the poetic side of my me did not want to slit his throat and bleed out. It was time to go just as my comrade did.
I suited up, tears welling up in my eyes. A wave of stability and normality came over me, although my decision was set. The primary hatch opened, then the secondary and there I was. Swimming in a boundless sea of darkness that would be my final resting place. It was hard to accept that my life was ending, my fractured stream of consciousness obliterated. The sun’s light gleamed in my watery eyes. I took on last gasp and pulled the latch. I turned into space dust and became one with the cosmos.
Captain’s Log: November 19th, 2112
12:16 pm: The Blue Marble is finally out of sight. It has been 7 days since departure. Jimmy and I, since grade school, have always fantasized about being heroic astronauts that would traverse the cosmos. Being the first individuals to make the eight-year voyage to Pluto is as exciting as it is terrifying. This could easily be a Neil Armstrong-level step in society or a one way ticket to Hell.
Our vessel, The Falcon, holds enough provisions for the first three years and farming equipment. Jimmy, being the botanist, will take care of that. It is approximately the size of a two-story colonial home, and has enough things so we don’t go crazy. We have the entire Star Wars saga and every video game under the sun.
We will have communication with Earth up until year five, when communications will be lost. I have contacted immediate family, who talked me out of my first impending panic attack. With time, I will accept the reality that I will never see a tree again.
Our end goal will be to set up liveable structures on Pluto for future generations. We’ll have to set up oxygen and water farms, among many other tasks. I’m ending the log for today, Jimmy and I have hook up to our vitamin drips for our daily nutrients. -Chip
Captain’s Log - December 28th, 2112
2:57 pm: Today will be our first spacewalk! I will continue to type while I’m out there, and log what we see.
5:02 pm: We suited up, and are out now. The view is breathtaking. Floating here in the endless void is so tranquil. Constellations are clearer than ever. I think I see Orion! Oh, and Jimmy says “hi”. There seems to be a shooting star, and yes, I know it is actually an asteroid. It is getting brighter. It appears to be hurtling toward us, leaving a fiery trail. Oh my god.
Captain’s Log - December 29th, 2112
1:47 am: I never thought I would come to. Half of The Falcon has broken off, and drifted into space, and I am lucky to still be connected. Jimmy’s body is floating lifelessly. Debris is cluttering my vision. I don’t think I can go on. This may be the end.
9:12 pm: I couldn’t have just sat in my suit, exposed to the dangers of space for ever. I maneuvered my way around and spent the day securing the exposed areas of The Falcon using the insulation that was meant for our structures on Pluto. Most of the supplies and communications system have been victims of the Asteroid. So here I am. Alone in an insecure vessel tens of thousands of miles away from any life. I may as well just stay on course for Pluto and try not to go insane. No one will read this anyway, so I should just go to sleep. -Chip
Vignette II - Solitude
Captain’s Log - April 8th, 2117
7:19 pm: Jimmy and I had fun today. We played catch, and talked about Earth for a while. He did not have much input however, like always. He has not said too much since the accident. I’ve been doing alright. I started having these dreams in which people and objects from my life on Earth appear on The Falcon, only I’m not asleep when they happen.
I’ve gotten into the habit of spilling my feelings onto the walls of The Falcon as to not get bored. You don’t really notice how expressive of a writer you are until it is the only thing keeping you from self-harm. It has been really difficult keeping in touch with reality. I DON’T KNOW WHAT IS REAL. Mind mind is running in circles, the same thoughts day after day after day after day, endlessly cycling through the broken record that is my head. Thoughts rattle around like marbles in an empty can. Every little thing throws me of the edge. My perception of time is warped beyond belief. I feel like it was just yesterday since I’ve slept last, but according to my watch it has been six. SIX. I only sleep when my body collapses under itself. Jimmy understands, even if he does not have much of a face left.
There is zero semblance of a daily routine, let alone days themselves. What are days? How we measure the steps toward death? I’ve been pulling at the frayed ends of my sanity for too long. I fear I’ll never get off this damn hunk of metal. I need to stop writing before I spiral into another fit.
Vignette III - One Last Breath
It had been 7 years since the accident. Pluto was around the corner, but I did not care. I had lost it, completely gone. Scars and bruises coated my frail figure, The Falcon was a complete wreck, food was running low, and I was left shooting the shit with a corpse. I simply couldn't take it anymore.
I did not expect anything to happen that day. I woke up, my brain swelled with insanity, and paced The Falcon. I was crippling under my own mind and decided to end it. How I kept myself from doing it before baffles me. I embraced the bag of bones that was Jimmy and wept for hours, or at least it felt like it. However, my memory had taken a serious hit. I desperately tried to recount my Earth life, but to no avail. I had stopped signing my name on the captain logs 6 years in, most likely forgetting it.
I tried to talk myself out of killing myself. I tried and tried. But unfortunately, I was as afraid of death as I was of life. Being confined within the walls of The Falcon had done a number on my reasoning skills. I didn’t want to die but I had to. The landing systems were knocked off the ship so I could not even complete the mission. I was a complete failure.
My method of suicide was not easy to find. Hanging was out of the question, the gravity on the ship would not be strong enough. I wanted to be quick, but the poetic side of my me did not want to slit his throat and bleed out. It was time to go just as my comrade did.
I suited up, tears welling up in my eyes. A wave of stability and normality came over me, although my decision was set. The primary hatch opened, then the secondary and there I was. Swimming in a boundless sea of darkness that would be my final resting place. It was hard to accept that my life was ending, my fractured stream of consciousness obliterated. The sun’s light gleamed in my watery eyes. I took on last gasp and pulled the latch. I turned into space dust and became one with the cosmos.