Chloe N. Clark
1. THE DISPATCHThe Days Last Longer the Further Away You Are
On Mars, there is no one left, but we still think they can hear us. The delay lets us live in moments where everything is alright. It’s only when we get no response and get no response and continue to get no response that we begin to understand. We try alternate channels, pull up every video feed we have access to; we find everything giving us the same answer, a static buzz of nothingness.
They were a mission of four. We celebrated them when they were selected. We all watched the endless interviews, read every profile, hoped we might see them in a hall as they walked to training. We thought we’d tell them how much we hoped for them. When one of us did bump into one of them, we didn’t talk of hope we kept it professional, never personal. Later, we will wish we had held their hands a little longer after we shook them, that we might have said “you are so amazing.” Every single one of them was so amazing.
On the day of the launch, we all collectively held our breaths. Until everything was fine. Each of us, secretly, thought our breath holding had helped. If we could hold trouble in a state of abeyance, as well as we held our breaths, then everything would work out.
One of the crew talked to us when she walked the ship at night. She looked for the cameras, waved, said things about what she was doing. I can’t sleep. It’s odd how far away the stars look even when you’re amongst them. The coffee tastes different up here. I used to drink it with cream, sugar. Now I like it black. It tastes like it belongs in space, without gravity, without anything weighing it down. The Earth is getting so small. She was most of our favorites. Though we would never say we had favorites. That seemed uncouth, unlucky, unfair. But if she had asked us, we would have told her. We wished we had told her. We were glad we never told anyone. Maybe then each of them thought they were our favorite.
One of them had been a diver with the Navy. He could hold his breath so long that we imagined Houdini would have applauded, been astounded, leapt to his feet clapping every time he witnessed the feat.
Another had three children. They were all named after famous objects in space: Apollo, Juno, Rosetta. Juno never spoke on camera, she was too shy, and she’d just hold her father’s hand and peek out from behind him. Years later, Juno would speak at a memorial event. Her voice so deep and filled with stillness, that we would all understand what she had been keeping inside.
The last crew member to talk to us, before the delay, before they were gone, was the one we knew the most about. She had the longest career, the most accomplishments. She was the face of what we hoped for space. She said, “everything looks good.” And we believed her. We believed so much that the delay never worried us. For once, we felt safe.
Mars was named after the god of war. A fact we know but don’t question. Some believe that Mars was originally a god of the wild. That he governed over the lands that were outside the boundaries of humans. That he kept those places away from us for a reason.
We took turns asking for them to respond. We thought the result might change for one of us. One of us had to be lucky. We forget, we let ourselves forget, which of us was the last one to try. This is a grace we grant one another. None of us want to be the one we gave up at.
Years and years later, one of us will see the wife of one of the crew. She will look older, of course, but we’d know her anywhere. All those interviews, every profile where she smiled at the camera from next to her beloved. She will be walking through a crowded farmer’s market. We will see her pause at a flower stand, lean over to smell a bouquet of cosmos. We wonder if she knows the name of the flower or if it is coincidence that when she breathes in she closes her eyes and the smile on her face looks so full of what might have been that we can’t take it.
The crew carried seeds with them. They weren’t planning to plant them. It was a symbol more than anything. That we could take life to another planet, that we could set down roots there one day. One of the crew had suggested wildflower seeds. Something that could spread with the wind, something that could keep growing without us.
On Mars, there is no one left, but we still think they can hear us. We talk to them as we look at the night sky. We dream of them after days of building rockets and plans and missions. We think that they might be waiting for us. We want nothing more than for them to know we’ll keep trying to reach them, that even after all of this, we never stopped believing that we could go so far.
2. BUREAU INVENTORYAn absurd amount of moisturizers and lotion because some of us need to stay soft.
Coffee and water to caffeinate AND hydrate like a champ.
Funko pops of Steve Harrington, several xenomorphs. Ripley, the Labrynth Worm, and Pting, because heroes come in all forms.
Various tokens from loved ones.
3. BIOGRAPHYChloe N. Clark is the author of Collective Gravities, Escaping the Body, Your Strange Fortune, and more. She is co-EIC of Cotton Xenomorph. She would very much like to go to space.