Seventh Entry

February 4^th, 2037

2136

Dear Space Diary.

You said I would be back.

Before I got your email, I was at a loose end. A complete loose end. My job was reliable. It was so reliable that I could see myself doing it for the rest of my life. The rest of a very long, very dull life. I had gone to college straight after school. And I applied to work for NASA straight out of college. Out of school, and into college. Out of college, and into a lab. I didn’t mind, NASA. You paid me and looked after me, and I lead a comfortable life. But there were other things I wanted to do with my life. And I never did them. Instead, I worked. For 12 years. Until I realised I had forgotten to do all those things. And I probably didn’t have time to do them anymore. No time, no money. Not enough money. Not enough time.

The email offered a lot for a little. Or so it said. Go into space. Test out this ship. Be a hero. We can’t use a dog, so we want you instead. Easy work. And we’ll pay you. Two years salary, and one year paid leave. A chance to do those things I never did. And money to do it with. Such a large reward, for such a little sacrifice. How could I refuse?

She took it better than I thought she would. In fact she was excited. Yes, I would be away for months. Yes, it was dangerous. Yes, there was a risk. But in return, we would have a life. She was so happy and so proud. And it turned out I wasn’t the only one with news. That extra money would arrive at the perfect moment. Our food bill was going to go up in about nine months’ time. And so I got down on one knee, because in fact I had prepared for this, and hoped for it too.

And so we set a date. Just after I was due to get back.

And now all of that is so far away. She is so far away. You all are so far away. I don’t even know if you’ll get this. I’m flying through space, in a ship that can’t slow down, and I am never, ever, going home.

You said I would be back.