Stranded

The following was transcribed from the recordings found in Wreckage Site 20226:

Given the current trajectory of the space station and the computing power installed in her systems, I can calculate to a fraction of an inch and a fraction of a millisecond when and where I will finally crash into earth. This is, of course, assuming that life support systems don’t fail or food rations run out before then. The latter is unlikely as I have more than enough food to feed a crew of three, after all. I started on the calculations a few days ago but decided that there was little point in knowing exactly when one was going to die. I suppose it could be right now if I really wanted it to just end. It’s funny; when the government issues you a cyanide pill you never think you would ever find yourself in a scenario where you would use it. But I’ve found such scenarios repeatedly over the course of the past few weeks. To what do I owe my hesitancy in taking the pill? Is it my natural cowardice or the hope of a fool? Do I fear death or have I deluded myself into thinking that I will hold my family in my arms again?

I’m still not sure why I’m still recording these logs but on the off-chance that this is retrieved by someone, that is if this means anything, I think we had a great run. We humans are always bickering and fighting. Sometimes over large and important things, but in the grand scheme of it all it usually ends up being over small trifles. If you think about it, my scenario is no different than any other human’s ever was in the short history of our planet. We all die, eventually, and a majority of us never know when or in what manner. My situation is just at a different scale… and with a wholly different point of view.

The fragility of our human lives was made all the more apparent on my launch day. Strapped in with my back parallel to the earth I can still feel my heart beating, pounding against my rib cage. I didn’t know if I was more anxious or excited. Ground control counted us down but that did little to calm my nerves so I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and remembered the night before. I remembered feeling my son in my arms, the sweet fragrance of my wife’s hair and their warm embrace. We shared my last meal on earth, my wife’s meatloaf. It was almost too perfect, like everyone knew that this would be my last flight. But it’s difficult to say if it was truly that perfect, or nostalgia has found a way to anesthetize my final days.

When ground control finally said “lift off,” the crew and I let out one last exhale as the entire structure rumbled. You can instantly feel the propulsion of the engines lifting you into the air as your body fought against the force of gravity multiplied by our takeoff. The pressure on my chest felt like the weight of a pickup truck parked on my chest. In flight school, they had taught us to combat the g-forces that would otherwise cause you to black out. A few jolts to the spacecraft and a visual confirmation from ground control meant the stages had successfully decoupled. Earth’s mighty hold had finally let go of us after a few minutes of skyward thrust and I was finally brave enough to open my eyes.

The clear Florida sky surrounded us with few sparse clouds speeding by like wisps of smoke, ghosts of condensation. High into the atmosphere, the sky was at its clearest, the bluest that any human eye has ever seen growing bluer as we reached beyond the stratosphere. They sky was dark velvet pierced by brilliant pinpoints of light in a view that could not have been fathomed by the planet’s most gifted artists. To see the earth and the moon and the sun in a graceful ballet with the stars in the distance is the easiest way to make one feel smaller but in the best possible way. And that first sunrise as it hits the surface of the moon is awe-inspiring. You can always tell who is on their first flight by the tears rolling down their cheek. The gigantic curve of the earth’s horizon shines like pure silver and you witness the draping of the sun’s rays stretch across the Atlantic towards home. This was my fifth launch and I never tire of this view.

While it was my fifth launch, it never gets any less lonely on that first day in space. Imagine your first day at school or work or away from home. Fate has placed you with all these new people that know you as well as you know them, that is to say not very much at all. Fortunately, Colonel Vostok of Russia and Captain Isaacs from Illinois are very reputable in their respective fields and I was right to trust them with my life. Floating in the vacuum in space does little to reduce the longing for human contact, however and it’s usually in the thirtieth hour or so that I miss my wife terrible. We have been inseparable since we first met in college so you can imagine the toll of being separated by miles of sky between us.

Our work in the ISS (International Space Station) Bradbury, while not classified, is still considered highly sensitive information so rather than delve into those sordid details I will tell whoever ends up hearing this that it kept any of us from talking to our loved ones for the first 72 hours of our orbit. When the time finally arrived, we each retreated to our own personal communication stations (a luxury that was ill-afforded to previous ISS generations) and we finally got to make our first comm-call. I don’t remember what was said. All I remember was the sound of her sweet voice and the laughter of my little boy making me ache to get back to earth sooner than I should. I suppose I am though, returning to earth sooner than anticipated that is.

The Event occurred just a few hours after the first waves of meteors knocked us out of our trajectory. Vostok and Isaacs suited up and refused to let me go on the spacewalk with them. Isaacs said it was because we needed someone to relay the situation to ground control from inside the space station just in case another wave were to hit. Vostok confided in me that it did not look safe out there and they had decided that I had to be the last survivor. He intimated that it was because I was the only one with a family waiting for me on earth. I spoke with ground control and told them that our piloting systems were decimated and that Vostok went out to fix it. The communication systems had taken damage as well and Isaacs felt Vostok’s age would prevent him from fixing both before the next wave of meteors came crashing into the station. She rushed outside and managed to get our communications operational again just before the second wave hit. The signal was very weak but it was enough to serve its purpose

“Bozhe moy,” Vostok said through the static. I peeked out of the window and could see him frozen in space. Isaacs looked up and saw the meteors heading right for them.

“Rogers, tell my dad--” She never got to finish her sentence. Bullet-sized meteors ripped them to shreds and one the size of a softball managed to crack Vostok’s helmet. The last I remember of him was the terrified look on his face through the cracked visor of his helmet as his body lifelessly floated by the window. I’ll never know what Isaacs wanted me to tell her father. But I can speculate it’s something along the lines that she loves him. But if her dad ever gets to hear this, then he should know that his daughter is the reason this message got to him. She was right. Vostok never finished his repairs but she did. Captain Isaacs along with Colonel Vostok are heroes. I couldn’t be here creating this final transmission if it wasn’t for them.

It would be approximately eleven hours before The Event occurred and while I can’t imagine the wanton destruction that such massive meteorites could wreak, I can only hope that enough of you survived so that humanity’s book is not yet quite ended. I watched helplessly as the three gigantic asteroids (I’m not sure what you on the surface ended up calling them) tore through the Earth’s atmosphere and absolutely decimated North Africa, much of the northeast of North America, and into the oceans which created waves that I could see from my vantage point. The sheer shock of the witnesses breaks my heart as I can see the earth consume itself. The oceans would have engulfed much of the coasts in the gargantuan tsunamis that would have ensued. The dust that would have kicked up in the Sahara would blot out the sun for most of Europe and parts of Asia. And that final asteroid must have taken out some of the most populous cities in the world with one fell swoop.

From the moment I witnessed the destruction of the planet below me to this very moment the one single memory I will take with me is one I wish I could forget. While, it seems, the worst was over the barrage of meteorites was not. There were numerous showers that could have caused further damage but it’s difficult to tell. The chaos that ensued from the three large meteors had caused me to forget about the communications systems. The only reason I had the wherewithal to record this was that not 45 minutes ago a faint signal buzzed in through the static. It struggled repeatedly and eventually snapped me out of the state of shock I was in. But it wasn’t until I heard my wife’s voice that I found the strength to make my way to my communication station.

“Clark?! Are you there? Please, if you can hear this please let me know if you’re still up there!” she implored. Her voice was breaking, partially due to the static, partially due to crying.

“I’m here, Maggie! I’m here! Oh, God! Can you hear me?!”

“Yes! Yes, I can hear you! Baby, I can hear you! WE can hear you!”

“I love you so much!”

“I love you too! It’s so good to hear your voice!”

“What’s happening down there?”

“All hell’s broke loose! It’s mass panic and rioting! I’m so, so scared!”

“You’re going to be okay!” I didn’t know if it was going to be okay. “You need to find someplace to hide. There’s nothing as big as what’s already struck down headed your way. But there seem to be waves of meteors headed your way. I don’t know when it’s going to stop.”

“Daddy!” my boy called out.

“Daddy’s here, Phillip! I’m right here!”

“I’ll do my best to stay safe. You come home! You hear me? You come home safely!” Maggie was holding back the tears. I heard it in her voice. Phillip was crying his eyes out, at what, I’m not sure I’ll ever know.

“You got it, Maggie! I’m coming home! And Phillip? You take care of your mother until I do! I love you, Maggie! I love you, Phillip! Your daddy loves you and don’t you forget that!”

“I love you, Clark!”

“Daddy,” Phillip hesitated, “I lov--”

And that was it. Another small meteor took out my communications systems for good. Perhaps that was the best way it could have ended. I had said my goodbyes and told them I loved them. There was nothing else to say I suppose… except everything. For all I know, they’re still alive and I just have no way of knowing. In my mind they made it to somewhere safe, somewhere with endless supplies, somewhere where one day they’ll start a new life. Some might call it delusion but I think I’m owed that being stranded in space. Those might be the best kind of endings because it can end anyway you’d like it to. I don’t know if this will ever be found but if it has, this is Captain Clark Rogers of the ISS Bradbury, husband to Maggie Rogers and father to Phillip Rogers. And son, I lov--