I can’t believe I’ve forgotten. Reading the new uplink of data from Earth is usually the first thing I do. Hearing from NASA is always the best part of my day – often it’s the only part of my day.
I scroll through my inbox, skimming past the files of news articles until I reach the message from Molly.
From: NASA Earth Sent: 20/06/2065
To: The Infinity Received: 23/02/2067
Attachments: UC-podcast.zip [8 MB]; Worksheets.txt [20 KB]
Audio transcript: Hi Romy! Hope you’re well, sweetie. Have you been finishing all your schoolwork? Your last message said you were struggling with some of the maths. I hope you’ve sorted it out by now. I used to find maths really hard when I was at school too! It’ll all come together in the end.
I’m sending you some more worksheets, in case you’ve completed the ones you’ve already got. By the time you read this, I think you’ll be working on three-dimensional propulsion mechanics, so that’s what the attached exercises focus on.
Let us know if there’s anything you want us to send. I’ve also attached a new episode of the podcast you like – it’s funny. Enjoy!
Talk to you tomorrow.
Molly is my therapist and miscellaneous pillar of support. She was assigned to me by NASA after my parents died, to help me deal with their deaths – and my unexpected promotion to commander of The Infinity.
I receive messages from her every day, without fail, to make sure I don’t get too lonely. Her first message was two hours long. I think I listened to it over a hundred times – maybe more. It was my constant soundtrack for months.
I’ve been alone on this spaceship since my parents died. The last time I hugged someone, smelt their shampoo, or even just spoke to them face to face, was 25 February 2062. Five years ago. Right now I’m officially further away from any other human being than anyone else has been since the evolution of the species.
I’m pretty sure I’ve forgotten what other people feel like. When I dream, I dream in screens. A line of text, a voice in my ear. Nothing real.
The things people take for granted, like seeing the sky, walking on soil, feeling the wind on your skin – well, I’ve never experienced any of that. I was born on The Infinity. I’ve only ever known its clean white walls; its sterilized atmosphere and artificial gravity; its grey floors, curving around the ship’s hull.
I circle the same small space over and over every day, and nothing changes and nothing is different.
I know I sound ungrateful to be here. But I didn’t choose this life. Just because my parents were clever and multitalented enough to be picked to run The Infinity doesn’t mean I’m anything special. I’m nothing like they were.
I should feel proud that my parents were chosen to run this mission. I should be proud to be the first human to land on a planet and create a new civilization. I get to carve out a new home for humanity among the stars.
But some days it’s hard to remember the exciting parts. I get stuck in the memories. It’s hard to focus on the future when the past is so distracting.
DAYS SINCE THE INFINITY LEFT EARTH:
6818
The next morning, the computer sends me an alert:
HEALTH REMINDER
WITHIN THE NEXT 24 HOURS PLEASE COMPLETE:
40 MINUTES OF AEROBIC EXERCISE
10 REPETITIONS OF 8 KG WEIGHT EXERCISES
It’s an exercise day.
I exercise on alternate days, and while it isn’t the absolute worst thing in the world, I suppose, it’s just … so boring. Mainly because of the endless running.
There’s nothing to look at. I just circle the corridor around the entire circumference of the ship until I’m allowed to stop. At least while I lift weights I can watch my favourite TV show, Loch & Ness.
I stretch out my calves so they don’t cramp, then begin to jog down the corridor. I could do this with my eyes closed.
The ship looks like a giant wheel, rotating as it flies through space. The centrifugal force of the rotation creates a feeling of gravity inside. The helm and the living quarters are around the outer rim, where you’d find the tyre on a wheel. The stores are located in the centre of the ship.
The only sign of the ship’s rotation from the inside is the portholes. When you look through them, the stars spiral around themselves, over and over and over. It makes me dizzy to look at them, especially when I’m running.
I jog past the kitchen and the bathroom and the bedroom and the lounge area and the helm and dozens of other rooms, until eventually I find I’ve circled back to the kitchen. Then I do it again.
On good days, which don’t come often, I love my ship and everything it represents. I thrill at the thought of seeing Earth II. There are going to be so many things there that have never been seen by human eyes before. I’ll get to study the planet using priceless, brand-new equipment that’s just waiting to be unpacked. I’ll discover things that might change the fate of humanity for ever.
The Infinity is the biggest, most expensive scientific mission in history. I get to be the very first person to see the results. I’m so lucky.
On bad days, I worry about my responsibilities until my gut cramps and my head feels full of knives.
On my very worst days, I think of nothing but how vulnerable I am out here. I’m balanced on the edge of oblivion with only a fragile skin of metal separating me from the void of space. My only choice is to carry on into nothing, until the day that The Infinity reaches a new star system and glides into orbit around a rocky planet. If the planet turns out to be hostile – if there’s scorching radiation from its two suns, or an atmosphere fierce enough to turn my lungs black – then I’ll be lost.
I’d have to make the decision to keep going to the next hospitable planet, which might be many years’ extra travel away. There’d be nothing to do but wait and hope that the ship reaches a safe haven before I starve to death. If I never find a habitable planet, I’ll be trapped on this ship until the metal grows old enough to weaken and crack. The oxygen would be sucked from my delicate home, and when that finally happened, maybe it would be a relief; an end to the pointless existence of waiting for death from the day I was born.
Who thought it was a good idea? A life of never seeing a horizon or standing on solid ground?
This whole journey is a balancing act based on faith. We’re all just hoping that The Infinity will eventually be able to reach somewhere safe. And for what? To satisfy the great human spirit of exploration?
My life is a gambling chip thrown carelessly across the universe in the hope it’ll land somewhere my descendants can survive.
I represent the culmination of centuries of human achievement and exploration. But who cares if my name goes down in history, if no one remembers who I really am?
After forty minutes of circling the ship, I stop at the bathroom to have a shower. Then I check my inbox. I’ve been hoping that Molly will send me the latest novel from one of my favourite writers. Maybe today will be the day. An eBook arrived from Molly last week by another author I like, but it’s set in space, so I don’t really fancy it.
I used to read loads of science fiction, looking for characters like me, but it was all so wrong that it just made me feel more alone. Now I read a lot of romance novels. I like the simple ones, set on Earth. Stories that revolve around coffee-shop dates and walks in the countryside.