MidReal Story
Eclipse of Hope
Scenario: Alone in the interstellar space, destined to discover new worlds as being the last hope of a diminishing humanity...
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I stand at the edge of an era.
The sun dips below the horizon, casting a golden light over the crowd.
We’re all looking toward the same destination, one that’s visible from almost anywhere on the planet.
That is, unless you’re on the far side of the globe, where it’s already dark.
Even there, I’m sure they’re watching, just with more than a little help from technology.
The Horizon stretches out before us, so large I can hardly comprehend its size.
It seems to go on forever, an unbroken line curving around the Earth.
The ship is so far away it seems like a mirage, an impossible dream.
But it’s real.
I know it is.
We’ve spent so long preparing for this moment.
This was always the goal, the destination we were all striving for.
And now it’s finally within reach.
The sun vanishes, leaving behind a final burst of reds and oranges.
The crowd falls silent, waiting for the ship to come alive.
It doesn’t have to wait long.
Even as we watch, the Horizon begins to glow, as though she’s been waiting for this moment all her life and can’t contain her joy any longer.
My heart swells in time with hers, my anticipation rising higher and higher with each beat.
She shines brighter and brighter until I can’t look at her anymore.
I’m forced to turn away and shield my eyes.
But it doesn’t matter that I can’t see her for a moment because I know what’s happening anyway.
I can feel it in my bones, in my blood, in the air around me.
The Horizon is lifting off, her engines burning bright as she begins her quest to find us a new home.
As she takes me away from everything I’ve ever known.
I’m not just an explorer of space.
I’m an explorer of time.
I’m going to see parts of the universe no human has ever seen before.
And I might be the last human to ever see them.
The crowd around me is starting to disperse, everyone trying to get home before it gets too dark, as though that will make them feel safer.
I can’t help but think about all those people who aren’t going to get to come with me.
Who don’t have my chance at survival.
For as long as I can remember, we’ve been looking for a new home.
The Earth is dying and there’s no way to stop it.
We’ve known that from the beginning.
We all thought we had more time, though.
More time to find a planet that was safe for us to settle on.
But it turns out we were wrong.
We’re down to our final years, maybe even our final months.
The Earth can’t support us any longer.
The stars are my solace.
When I close my eyes and turn my face toward them, I can almost forget about everything else.
All of my fears.
All of my doubts.
All of my secrets.
I like to think they’re watching over me, protecting me even when they’re too far away for me to see them clearly.
The stars will always be there even if I never make it back home from my journey through space.
They’ve been here for billions of years and they’ll be here for billions more.
Long after the Earth has died and long after our sun has burned out.
Long after every other star in the night sky has gone dark.
Our mission starts when we leave Earth’s orbit.
We’ve been in space so many times before, but this time feels different.
It feels like a new beginning, or maybe an ending.
It’s hard to tell which.
The Horizon is huge, but she’s not big enough for all of us and our supplies, not if we’re going to be traveling for as long as we think we are.
The rest of her parts are in orbit, waiting for us.
Waiting for me and my crew.
The best and brightest that humanity has to offer.
Or at least that’s what they tell us.
It’s hard to believe that I’m one of them.
That I’ve been chosen for such an important mission.
I may be young, but I’ve spent my entire life preparing for this moment.
I’ve studied and worked harder than anyone else I know and now all of my hard work is finally paying off.
I’m the lead scientist on this mission, which means everything is falling squarely on my shoulders.
We may have traveled farther from Earth before, but we’ve never done it with a specific destination in mind.
And we’ve never done it intentionally, knowing that we’re never coming back.
This time, there will be no rescue if something goes wrong.
This is it.
Our last chance at survival.
Our last chance to save humanity.
Our last chance not to watch everything we love die around us.
Not that any of us are completely sure how to do what we need to do or what exactly it is we are going to find out there.
The Antares probe was the first human made object to cross the boundary into interstellar space.
But I am the first human.
I’ve been told that the rest of the crew is relying on me to guide us there and take care of things once we arrive.
I don’t know if I’m really up to the task.
I’ve done as much as I can on Earth, but there’s only so much that we can learn without being there.
And no one is sure what to expect once we cross that barrier.
It could be dangerous.
It could be deadly.
Or it could be nothing at all.
We just don’t know.
I wish I could remember a time when I wasn’t aware that we all might die.
When the fate of humanity didn’t rest on my shoulders.
But it feels like I’ve always known.
The Antares probe has always been out here with me.
Ever since it left Earth a little over ten years ago.
The probe is what tells us what we need to know about the boundary and the other side.
Why it’s happening and what’s waiting for us there.
In the meantime, there’s very little for me to do now but wait.
Dr Stone is waiting for me when I get to our command center and he gives me a big grin when I walk in.
He’s been my mentor for as long as I can remember and he’s one of the most brilliant minds of our time so I’m more than a little flattered that he thinks I’m up to the task of being the first human to break this barrier.
“You ready?”
he asks me and I nod confidently even though I’m not sure if I am.
“Let’s go change the universe.”
“It’s already changing,” I say softly as I stare out the window at Earth below us.
The rest of our crew is waiting with their families in the observation room as we strap ourselves into our seats.
This trip has never been about exploration or discovery, not really.
We’re looking for something.
For anything.
A new planet.
A new home.
Any place where humanity can survive.
The fate of everyone we know and love is resting on this mission.
But we’re not just doing it for them.
We’re doing it for us too.
Because no one wants to be left behind.
No one wants to die.
“Good luck,” Dr.
Stone tells me before he heads back to his seat.
“Not that you’ll need it.”
Everyone has words of wisdom for me when it’s finally time to go.
But it’s hard to listen to any of them when there’s a camera in my face and billions of people watching me on their screens back on Earth.
So I smile and nod as best as I can as I give them all one final wave.
Then it’s time to go.
My family is waiting for me in the hall just outside of our living quarters.
My parents and my brother, along with their spouses and children.
They’ve come from all over the world just to see me off and it’s enough to make me cry.
It’s been five years since I’ve last seen them and that was the day we left Earth’s orbit.
I haven’t seen anyone from Earth since and I won’t see anyone else again until we return.
If we return.
I’ll be on this ship all alone for the rest of my life.
That’s how it has to be.
Because I’m not supposed to get attached.
But it’s hard not to when I know that I’m never going to see any of them ever again.
My family is my connection to Earth.
The only thing that reminds me of home.
And I don’t know what I’m going to do without them.
When we were on Mars, we could communicate with Earth in real time.
But now we are nearly a light minute away from the closest human and it’s only going to get farther and farther as time goes on.
Everyone back on Earth knows the situation and they know what’s going to happen.
Our signal is going to fade into the distance and then it’s going to cut out completely.
Just like everyone else’s.
Ever since the dawn of space travel, the human race has been expanding outwards into the stars.
First the Moon and Mars and then beyond.
The farther out we go, the weaker our signals get and the more time it takes for them to travel too and from us.
It can take days for messages to get back and forth even now when we’re still relatively close to home.
As we move farther and farther away, those times will only increase until it’s impossible to communicate with anyone at all.
The people back on Earth have known this was coming ever since they sent us away and I know it’s made things harder for them than they want to admit.
They’re watching us leave them behind through the screens of their televisions and computers but soon enough they won’t be able to watch us at all.
And then they’ll be completely alone.
Just like me.
Dr Stone was the one who told me to never forget what it was like to be alone or what it was like when there was nothing but silence between the stars.
“No one else has ever been this far out before,” he told me once when he was helping me go over my training.
“And no one will be again.
There will be moments when you’ll wish for someone to talk to or something to do.
But there won’t be.
So make sure you enjoy those moments of silence while they last.”
I’ve had a few moments of silence since then.
But it isn’t nearly as nice as he made it sound.
Not to me.
The sound of the engines firing up is enough to drown out everything else and I’m grateful for it.
I don’t think I’d be able to handle saying goodbye to everyone if I could hear their sobs and muffled cries over the rest of the noise.
It doesn’t take long for us to leave Earth’s orbit behind and then we’re all alone.
Just like that.
It’s strange how quickly things can change.
How one moment you’re surrounded by everything you’ve ever known and then it’s gone.
We’re only a couple of weeks away from reaching the Lightyears-Long Stretch now and everyone is getting antsy.
No one wants to admit it, but we’re all a little bit scared too.
I can feel my heart pounding in my chest and my hands are shaking.
