#it’s absurd let alone because of a dying sister and a rich man

[meatycatastrophe]

People who still think Juran’s fate could be saved sound deranged to me. Get your hope somewhere else! Let us grieve!

[soldatrenard]

The Moon Disciple

To Whom it May Concern:

Death doesn’t strike fear in my heart: the unknown does. The idea that I’ll never truly know the point of life nor will it ever be solved is unfair. No shining light of wisdom will grace me with its knowledge. If we give our lives to these teachings, shouldn’t there be a tangible divine presence? We can convince ourselves of internal enlightenment, but I need the grace of god bestowed upon me in an actual form. Selfish is what you may think of that request, however; hasn’t everyone looked up for guidance and been unanswered? We’ve spoken to men and women representing an entity, but they are simply providing their own opinions of guidance. We can justify what we think are signs from above but that doesn’t mean they really are. Here I am in my final moments, and I doubt my body will be found within the first week of my bittersweet end. A big joke considering what pain has followed me throughout the years.

Should I take it personal? There are those who have never experienced turmoil or adversity in their lives, yet I have been struck down time after time. My family was taken from me. My brother, my sister, and my father were all killed in a “tragedy.” A god damn joke. Not to mention, my mother didn’t have the chance to meet me as she died during my conception. I don’t even want to talk about her. Not my mother, but the love of my life. Trust me, there’s simply not enough time to explain (I’m trying to kill myself). It’s as if everything in my life was crafted to push me to the edge. I can’t help but ask: why? The people I considered friends abandoned me because I refused to gift them money from the settlement. I mean, isn’t ironic that I become rich due to the death of my family and all it did was push me towards seclusion. People angry that I didn’t want to throw them a bone. As if I owed them because they had to deal with my moping and crying.  

I stopped leaving the house, I quit posting on social media, and I don’t answer the phone. After a while, everyone forgets you exist. I still follow them and look at what they post, but no one tries to interact with me. They think I’ll go on a tirade about how depressed I am and even if they did listen, they wouldn’t believe me because I have a lot of money. I wish I could buy my way to happiness but company that is paid for is not company you’d wish to have. Sure, I’ve paid for drugs, escorts, and uber eats but those aren’t contributing to my well-being. Fleeting moments of euphoria that aren’t helping me move past my depression. I never got a pet because I worried what the hell would have happened to the poor thing. It just doesn’t make sense to me that I would be consumed with this kind of thinking. How can anyone be scared to have a pet? Regardless of how you feel about the things I’ve said, no one should be feeling the way that I am nor should they experience the hardships I have endured.

That’s the gist of it, and now that you’ve been given the cliff notes: I’ve fashioned a noose and my agony will soon come to an end. It’s been a shitty run. I look forward to seeing the gates of hell because at least I’d know there was some truth to the testaments. If some greater power wants to intervene, this is your...Page Break

A knock echoes throughout the house as I almost finished my death note. I’m a bit pet peeved by the transgression to be honest. I will admit it is a bit ironic considering the last words I wrote, but I hope it isn’t the Mormons because you can take that intervention back, God. I drop the pen and decide to answer the door. I open it and to my surprise; it’s a beautiful woman wearing a pants suit. I’m either being sued, or I am about to be surveyed. With the door slightly cracked as my eyes glare out towards this stranger, I ask, “Who the fuck are you?”

Taken a bit back by my bluntness, the stranger simply asks if I’m Andrew Purdy.

“Yes, I am, so who the fuck are you?” I reply.

A bit ruffled but still maintaining composure, she says, “I’m the director of Project Ascension, the global initiative to colonize the planet Mars.”

I must admit, I wasn’t expecting that. “Okay, and your name?” I ask.

“Melissa Munoz”

I turn my head and ask out loud, “Alexa, who is Melissa Munoz?”

In the background you hear, “Melissa Munoz is best known for her pioneer work in the field of Astronomy. Graduated from Harvard University in 2030, she is currently the director of Project Ascension. Would you like to hear more?” Man, smart assistants, what would we do without them?

“No, thanks.” I respond to the device as I open the door fully.

I’m either being pranked in such a radical way or this is some wild attempt for a donation. “What would someone like yourself be doing here in Palm Springs?” I ask, but quickly follow up with, “we aren’t flying any rockets out here.”  

“I understand that this is unannounced and a bit odd, but I’m here because I need your assistance.” She explains.

Of course, a fucking donation. It’s always money. But why would the director be doing this personally? I mean, she is a beautiful woman and that can work on most people; however, isn’t she supposed to be running this space program and not knocking on doors?

“Let’s say this is true, what do you want? Money?”

“No, we want you to join the Initiative.” She grabs a hold of my hands and looks me straight in the eyes as she says, “I can explain the details if you invite me inside.”

There’s always a reasonable doubt granted to those in most situations. Where the unexplainable seems to be the only logical answer. There are times where the unbelievable takes over what we perceive as reality, and I have arrived at that moment.

“Thanks, but that’s a hard no.” I pull my hands away and close the door on her face.

I hope I didn’t hit her with the door, but you must be a bit dramatic in order to scare off people. Hell, most of the time you only need to speak your feelings to get someone running. Although, it doesn’t seem like Melissa got the point as I hear her knocking at the door again.

I walk towards the center of my living room where I have a noose hanging from the ceiling fan. Ignoring the barrage of knocks at my door, I had hoped for a quiet demise but at this rate; my body won’t be discovered too long after my death now. I put the noose around my neck and get up on the chair. I’m not scared, and I feel at ease. Anyone fighting internally with living or dying would be showing signs of contemplation at this moment, but I’m more concerned about the pounding at my door. Now that I’m considering how feisty those knocks are sounding, I’m not too sure I’ll be able to properly kill myself. Am I about to make this woman a hero if I try to kill myself in this moment? As I dangle from the roof, is she going to peek in through my blinds and attempt to rescue me? Complications are not what I need right now. Can’t a guy die in peace?  

“Well, shit.” I remove the noose and walk back to the door. I open it, and Melissa had an intensity written across her face that made me believe she would have done whatever it took to get back inside.  

I move aside and welcome her in.

I invite her to sit on the couch. Of course, she notices the noose above my head as I sit in the chair under it.

“Would you like a drink?” I ask.

There’s a look of concern on her face that indicated to me that she wasn’t interested in a drink, so I say, “Just tell me what you wanted to so we can go our separate ways.”

She regains her composure and answers with, “Each country in the world was tasked with choosing an individual that would represent them on Mars.” She looks back up at the noose then back at me, and states, “The United States chose you.”

I almost stood up and put the noose around my neck at that moment. It was that absurd to me. Why in the hell would I be chosen for this project? Especially by Uncle Sam and the animal brigades.

“I don’t see why or how that is the case.” I respond. “I mean, what do I look like Neil fucking Armstrong?” I mean, an already trained astronaut in comparison to me is night and day.

She unconsciously nodded in agreement. She acknowledges how outrageous it all sounded by her expressions alone, but she adjusts herself before continuing, “No, you’re not; however, you are the one they specifically picked.”

I can’t help but scratch my head. I mean, I know that’s not what actual people do when they’re befuddled but this is strange enough to make me do that.

“How did they come to this terrible conclusion?” I ask.  

My utter confusion must paint me out to be a dumb ass in this situation as the next set of words were spoken to me as if I was being addressed by a first responder after being involved in a car crash.

“You were chosen through a raffle that utilized the nation’s consensus, and I know that you may think you’re under qualified or not the right fit for this role.” She pauses to emphasize, “Given your current situation.” She glances back up at the noose then back to me and continues, “However, we want normal citizens to participate in this initiative.”

“Why not get an astronaut? It seems like the obvious choice.” I’m generally curious on this part.

She smiles as if that’s the key question she wanted me to ask, and says, “We already have conclusive evidence that these brave astronauts can endure and live in space.” She stands up and continues, “This initiative isn’t for these specific people, it’s for the population of the world.”

She stands up from the couch, “This is bigger than us.”  

She walks towards me and knells down. She grabs me by the hands (again) to further her point of, ���The planet is becoming unsustainable and there will be a time where we will no longer live on Earth.” She lifts my hands up which forces me up from the chair. “You can be that person in history that takes the first leap in settlement on a new planet.”  

“I don’t think I can.” I claim as I pull my hands away.  

I walk towards the window that opens to my front yard and stare out, past the robust mountains and lines of palm trees, towards the densely cloud filled sky and say, “I couldn’t even handle life on this planet.” I turn to her and ask, “How could I be one of the first to live on another?”

“It’s perfect if you ask me.” She optimistically states before bluntly saying, “Why die here in your living room when you can die making history?”

The reasoning isn’t far fetched. It’s true that I could die and not be given a second thought, but I could die with a purpose if I did this. I could die outside of tragedy. Avoiding the same fate as everyone else I held dear in this life; although, I am concerned by how sure Melissa was with my imminent death.  

Science tends to step in during all my crises of faith, but isn’t that how it normally is? The contradictions to one another as one is based in belief while the other is in facts. I haven’t felt this way in a long time. The ominous feeling when contemplating life after death. Short of breath, lightheaded, and willingly thinking of an unknown shrouded in mystery for over an eternity. We fill ourselves up with ideals of a new beginning as if we are the keepers of our own fate; however, we are merely heading to a cobblestone grave or more likely a plaque plastered on a wall of death. I was perfectly fine killing myself in this moment, but something inside me has changed. It isn’t the reasoning or my will to live (just to clarify). It is a sensation that beckons to me through all this. It feels me with warmth, and it is continuously moving up from my feet to my head. A sensation that, I dare say, feels divine.  

Melissa patiently waiting for me to respond. There is a drive and determination to her that is far more attractive than her already stunning features. She has her arms crossed, and she smirked at me when I made eye contact with her. There are people in the world given far more than the rest of us. This woman was meant to be someone, and she was given all the tools to achieve that. Although, I can argue that people often throw these opportunities away. Whether it be for love or for a misguided passion, we make choices that hinder our development just as I have in life.

If I’m going to commit to this, I’ll have to assess her reasoning for being involved. “What inspired you to join the cause?”

“I have to warn you, it may sound pretentious.” She warns before continuing, “I was blessed to be born into wealth, and I have used that wealth to experience life in a way most could only dream of.” A look of shame filled her face as she finished that sentence. “I came across people of all cultures struggling to survive.” She looks at me and asks, “you know what I did to help these struggling souls?” “You made their lives better through donations?” I respond.

Her eyes look glossed over and she takes a deep breath. “I did nothing for those people.” She states. “I never gave them the light of day or even processed how much of a struggle it was for them to have basic necessities.” She sits down on the couch. “All these places were vibrant and filled with bustling workers, yet I never stood there and understood what their days consisted of.”

She pats the couch for me to sit next to her. I do to push her to continue, “I never gave it a second thought until I started to witness change in these regions. Forest fires, sea level rising, fracking, water sources being contaminated, and the displacement of these cultures.” She takes a deep breath, “If you’re living in a suburban home like you are now, these shifts in our ecosystems have created emergencies that are not easily resolved.” Guilt written across her face as she states, “It wasn’t until the virus outbreak that pushed the world to create a solution to humanity’s problem: can we viably survive if the world becomes inhabitable?”  

It is obvious that world is strained as the world’s oceans begin to acidify, and natural resources are beginning to disappear. I can’t help but make light of the situation given her stature, “Okay, so you got into aerospace science because your privileged life showed you the amount of misfortune most undeveloped civilizations experience as you vacationed?”

She wasn’t too keen on that assessment as her guilt filled face shifted to one of anger. I ease up with, “Look, I get it.” I continue, “You could have chosen to ignore it like everyone else in a position of mass wealth, but you were inspired and became a leading professional in your field.” The tension lessened at that point, but I had to ask, “Why did you come here yourself?”

I feel like I haven’t looked so intensely into someone’s eyes in quite some time, and she hasn’t broken eye contact with me at all. I’m like a child avoiding the inevitable as their father hovers above them with questions on why the chores weren’t done. I’ve been setup to do this task and even though I should honor it, I have my reluctance. She gazes into my eyes like a siren beckoning a sailor and simply states, “The importance of you accepting this invitation is critical, and I could not risk letting someone else fail at recruiting you.” She grabs my hand again. “You were destined for this, so please don’t pass on the opportunity to solidify your place in history.”  

I sit there silently as I contemplate my decision. When I was a kid, I always dreamt of going into space. I expect most had those kinds of ambitions, but the reality of that feat is most of us will never have the opportunity. You can put a fishbowl over your head and pretend to be important, but you’re more likely to kill the fish it housed than make it to space. Now, however, I could be the one paving the way for these kinds of fantasies to become a reality. I can transcend the expectations (some already placed on me) and create a new reason to continue my life.  

“Is there some kind of evaluation that I have to do?” I sigh as if being forced into this project which I will admit; I felt bad being rude to her that I couldn’t say no after that moment.

Her eyes lit up as she knew the hook had finally grabbed hold as my bitter end appears to have been postponed for now.

She explained to me how the Moon was chosen to test the technologies that will be used to colonize Mars. Through those tests, they built and established a space hub on the Moon which will be used to help transition civilians from their life on earth to their radically different existence. Everyone will be required to help maintain the facilities as they become adjusted to the confines of space. Once everyone becomes adjusted to this new kind of living, we depart from the Moon to Mars to do what has long been written about in SCI-FI movies and books.      

It’s strange how it all occurred but let me assure you; the weeks leading up to my departure were less than stellar. We talked about the procedures I would undertake in order to join the initiative. I signed a contract that I didn’t read because it would have taken hours to go over it. They explained the required tests and time of deployment, and the details sounded like a routine check-up for when someone joins a softball team and that’s about it. Melissa carried the same professional tone throughout her visit, and I was told everything was arranged for me in advanced. Even if I decided not to join, I have the feeling I would have been forced to go one way or the other. Melissa wholeheartedly believes in the decision that I am the only one meant for this. Why exactly? I couldn’t say, it is a bit perplexing; however, so is quickly deciding to postpone a suicide for a suicide mission. I’m told I’m not expected to die, but I can’t say I was thoroughly examined after seeing the doctor and other goons place in front of me.

The doctor I saw was more of a pediatrician. I’m certain I could have had my blood drawn with the butterfly designed kid’s needle if I had asked. Guy looked like an infomercial actor that mishandles the popcorn during the introduction. I could have looked in the mirror and gave the same prognosis: I am a complete mess. Not enough exercise, not enough water, and not enough in general. What did any of these people expect? I was on the brink of suicide, but they’re determined to shoot me into space like the test monkeys before me. I clearly should have failed these checks. I mean, I saw the notes the guy took, and they weren’t in favor of me. Oddly enough, this imbecile approved me. It was at that moment that my mind became consumed with conspiracies. The idea that I may not have a choice in this matter is becoming a real thought of mine. It’s as if I’m in the Twilight Zone, I’m being pushed through the floating door in-between time and space against my will. I’m hesitant to where it is leading, and I’m beginning to question everything. The only reason I’m continuing is the fact that others are legitimately involved in this project, so it isn’t a hoax itself: where do I fit in it?

I had to visit a training facility and do some exercises in front of an employee from the Ascension group. Outside of Melissa, every person that I met from the project was not friendly with me. If this was grade school, I’d be the kid with his head in the toilet and covered in shit.  Have you ever been snared at from various people under different circumstances? I made sure to shower before attending any of these mandatory tests, but it seemed more like a roast than a legitimate procedure. Side comments about my stature that maybe they didn’t think I could hear or perhaps they hoped I would hear it. The experience has left me intrigued.

A bit unusual to admit. I’m not seeking penance for sins or indulging in self-loathing. I’m seeking the truth. Clearly, these people have a bone to pick with me. It goes back to my first encounter with the organization, why would did Melissa personally meet me? Is it because she’s the one who wants me to go? It would be near impossible for me to back out now. As soon as I signed the contract, it became a media frenzy. They wanted me to appear on late night shows, be interviewed by the papers, and to represent my nation, but I didn’t want to do any of it. Luckily after I botched an early taping of the tonight show, they advised me not to make any more appearances. To be honest, none of what I told you matters outside of Melissa. It gives you an indication of what to expect and who I am, and this is to show that I never should have been involved in Project Ascension. Although I considered myself unfit for the position, it wasn’t until my departure to the moon that I realized I had made a grave mistake. My departure from Earth to the Moon will go down as a historical moment of misfortune.