Drift

Gorey Community School

Dear who or whatever finds this,

Outer space is a funny place, isn’t it? It is an infinite plain of twinkly stars, brimming with life and devastating destruction depending on where you go. I’ve been drifting in space for two whole days now, ever since I accidentally got disconnected from my ship, The Athenian. When I started my mission a year ago, I never expected it to end like this. Though, what astronaut does envision being lost in space? It seems almost anticlimactic that I should have to die in this way. A proper member of The Athenian space crew would die in some dramatic planetary explosion or intergalactic alien war. But not me. I’m just some idiot who’s drifting about in an infinite abyss of blackness, waiting till her oxygen runs out. I suppose what I write in this letter will be regarded as my last words. I know last words are meant to be dignified and inspirational, but no fitting words are coming to my mind. I could keep up the façade of being a brave Athenian till my death, but I can’t do it anymore. I can’t keep living the lie that I’m some big brave Athenian, who fears nothing- not even the prospect of dying. To tell you the truth, I’m terrified. My brain keeps drifting off to the fact that in less than an hour, my oxygen will run out, and the icy paralysis of death will slip over me. Even worse, I begin to wonder what will happen to me. How exactly does a body in a spacesuit decompose? Will I become some sort of fleshy asteroid that floats through various galaxies? And then, what on earth happens to my consciousness, my thoughts, hopes, dreams? Where does the essence of Sophie Evans go? Perhaps I’ll wake up in a soft hazy world of clouds, one with no pain and only happiness. That seems a foolishly optimistic view of death to me. My scientist side is telling me that my brain will probably shut down like a faulty computer, and I shall simply cease to exist. My molecules will probably flit and dance around the universe like fireflies, perhaps becoming part of a rock or funky purple shrub. I suppose in 35 minutes I’ll get the answer to what happens after you die. I’m sorry this is such a depressing letter but being asphyxiated in space is generally rather a depressing thing to do. I would send my love to my family or friends if I had any, but I don’t. All my life, the stars and planets of our universe have been my only companion. Now that I’m dying, I have but one simple wish – that I may become one of the beautiful stars I have admired for so long and may too become a friend to the friendless.

Thanks for reading the last words of a failed Athenian but hopefully a future star – Sophie Evans.