182nd Entry

April 10th, 2037 

  

0900 

  

Dear Space Diary 

  

So… today’s the day. Launch day. The day we put our plan into action. I’m a little nervous. We’ve done  a lot of preparation over the last couple of days. And a lot of heavy living on the part of the Marys. But… it’s only been two days. Are we really ready? To be honest, I’m scared. 

  

“Pass the mustard.” 

  

That’s it? I bear my worries and soul to you and that’s what I get? Pass the mustard? 

  

“I can’t reach it.” 

  

Fine, whatever. Here. 

  

“Thank you.” 

  

…Are you putting mustard on toast? 

  

“I like mustard.” 

  

Yes but, on toast? By itself? 

  

“I haven’t had mustard in 20 years. And we don’t know what fate awaits us on Earth. Yes, I’m having mustard on toast.” 

  

Ok, ok, I’m not judging you. 

  

“Yes you are.” 

  

0945 

  

“Don’t say it.” 

  

What if – 

  

“Don’t.” 

  

What if they’re late? 

  

“You said it. I asked you not to say it.” 

  

But what if they are? 

  

“Then they’re late.” 

  

It’s launch day. They shouldn’t be late on launch day. 

  

“It’s not like we’re a corporation. In fact, we’re fighting against a corporation. Stick it to the man, etc.” 

  

What if it’s a woman? 

  

“Then good on her for making it in a man’s world. Also, she’s an evil bitch.” 

  

<INCOMING TRANSMISSION> 

  

“See, told you they wouldn’t be late.” 

  

Shut up. 

  

<INCOMING TRANSMISSION> 

__ 

  

WHERE ARE YOU GUYS? YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO MESSAGE AT 0930 

  

__ 

  

“We were?” 

  

__ 

  

DIDN’T HE TELL YOU? 

  

“You were supposed to tell me something, were you?” 

  

Oh. Yes, I remember now. They said they’d message 15 minutes earlier to give them more time to run diagnostics before they launch. 

  

“What happened?” 

  

I forgot. 

  

“You were so worried that they might be late, that we were late?” 

  

The irony is not lost on me. 

  

“Oh, that’s not irony. I can think of a few things it is, but it’s not irony.” 

  

Listen - 

  

__ 

  

NO YOU LISTEN. BOTH OF YOU. THIS MAY BE ALL ACADEMIC TO YOU ON YOUR SNUG LITTLE SHIP, BUT THIS IS OUR SAFETY WE’RE TALKING ABOUT. IF THIS PLAN DOESN’T WORK, NASA COULD COME FOR US, WITHOUT WARNING AND AT ANY TIME. 

  

__ 

  

“But…” 

  

But… 

  

__ 

  

NO BUTS. WE’RE GREATFUL FOR YOUR HELP SO FAR. REALLY. BUT ENOUGH BICKERING. IT’S GETTING EMBARRASING.  EITHER JUST KISS EACH OTHER OR DO SOMETHING ELSE TO DISPEL THE SEXUAL TENSION. 

  

__ 

  

“There’s no sexual tension.” 

  

__ 

  

OH PLEASE. BET YOU FIFTY BUCKS YOU GUYS GET YOUR ACT TOGETHER BEFORE THIS IS ALL OVER. AND WE WON’T EVEN GET A WEDDING INVITE, I’M SURE. 

  

WE’RE READY TO LAUNCH. COMMENCING FINAL DIAGNOSTICS. PLEASE DO THE SAME. 

  

__ 

<END TRANSMISSION> 

  

“…Well, they certainly told us.” 

  

Yeah. We’ve been a bit foolish. 

  

“We have… I’m sorry. We should focus on saving the Marys.” 

  

I feel strange. 

  

“It could be shame.” 

  

No, I’m not sure it’s shame. I feel bad, sure… 

  

“It could be unrequited love.” 

  

…Ok, yes, it’s shame. 

181st Entry

April 9th, 2037

1840

Dear Space Diary

I’m in my room, going over some star charts. This has everything to do with the importance of finding a planet for the Zubrin to orbit around. It’s important work. Vital work. Potentially lifesaving work. If we can get the Zubrin in orbit around a suitable planet of a similar size to Marysvilletopia, we may be able to fool NASA’s systems into thinking it is Marysvilletopia. Instead of thinking Marysvilletopia is Marysvilletopia. So I’m in my room, working hard in peace so I can save some lives. I’m a hero.

<CLICK>

Can I come out yet?

“No!”

<CLICK>

Also, Mary might have locked me in here.

Which is entirely unfair. It’s not my fault that the clones were two hours late for their next report. They could have been dead. The pod could have blown up while they were messing with the engines. A lightdog could have malfunctioned and lasered them to death. Bobo could have given them rabies.

But of course they were fine. They were late because the rocks were heavy and it took longer than expected to load them.

The rocks. Were heavy. Yes, their excuse is gravity. I could have pointed out that the gravity on Marysvilletopia is much lighter than on Earth so they’ve no excuse. And I did. Several times. And then gave them a detailed lecture on the importance of keeping to schedule and making sure we don’t fall behind. The end result of which was that the lecture took up the entire meeting, we couldn’t keep to the schedule, and now we’ve fallen behind.

Bet they won’t be late next time though.

1900

<CLICK>

I’ve found a planet.

“Which one?”

Can I come out yet?”

“Which planet?”

X-17 by FFG-3. Fourth from the sun.

“Hang on. Just checking.”

Let me out!

“Ssh. Ok, yes that looks good. Nice work. I’m unlocking the door.”

1903

Freedom! Beautiful, glorious freedom!

“I can lock you back in there, you know.”

I’ll be good.

“The planet’s good, thank you.”

It’s just one they prepared earlier. But I have a question. How is that going to stop then finding Marysvilletopia? They already know where it is. Surely they’ll just ignore this one and keep going?

“Ah ha, I’ve thought of that. You’re right. They won’t be able to use the autopilot, it’ll home in on one of our many scattered signals. But they do still have their star charts. They can get here manually. It’ll be much trickier, but it’s possible, if they’re determined enough.”

So the problem is the star charts.

“Right. We can’t mess with them from here. But I have a plan.”

Do tell.

“We go back to Earth. And we steal them.”

Steal the star charts?

“Without the physical star charts, they won’t be able to get there! The clones will be safe. It’s fool proof.”

Is it also bullet proof?

“I’m sure they probably won’t kill us.”

What do you think they’ll do, congratulate us?