Complete Blackout

“One day, the last star will die, and the universe will go dark. However, do not fret because it will be trillions of years from now, and if we are lucky, humanity will have already died out by then.”

-- Salvaged video clip from the YouTube Museum Archives

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D-45 (projected), Earth-5050, Base Camp

Every morning during breakfast, Victory likes to mention how wonderful it is to step outside the pods and breathe the outside air.

“We’re lucky,” she’d say after her comment. This small ritual began when we arrived on this planet six months ago. I understood Victory’s intention, but the silence that always followed made me clench my teeth until my molars squeaked. Yet, nobody was ever harsh or curt with her. Perhaps it was already too late for aggression.

“How’s your breakfast bar?” Freedom asked, his voice breaking today’s silence. I looked over at him -- tall, thin, his jumpsuit hanging off his shoulders -- and realized he was talking to me even though he wasn’t making eye contact.

“Um, fine. It’s supposedly apple flavored,” I said. Before Freedom could ask me another question, the door to the dining room slid open, and our captain came in.

“Good morning, team,” Captain Apollo said. Her hair was wet and curly against her shoulders, leaving two dark spots on her jumpsuit. We stood up from our seats and saluted her.

“Eat, eat,” Apollo said, waving her hand. The captain’s demeanor was becoming softer with each passing day. The more inevitable our mission outcome became, Victory’s optimism increased, and Captain Apollo’s treatment of us degraded from subordinates to travel mates.

“Any news from Earth-5048 or 5049?” Apollo asked.

“Not yet, ma’am,” Mercury replied. Her voice was elegant with an Old Earth accent. I sometimes wondered if she felt claustrophobic in the pods. Her home before joining our team must have been enormous with limitless staff and conveniences.

“Report to me immediately if there is no reply after the regular twelve hour window. The crew from Earth-5048 is supposed to join us in a few rotations,” Apollo said.

I glanced at Mercury, but her head was down. There was joy, but also deep sadness at the news that her father’s crew was joining us in a few weeks.

“When did their star die, Captain?” Freedom asked. Apollo unwrapped her breakfast bar and took a bite before answering.

“Two rotations ago. Science is reliable, but not perfect. They miscalculated the age of their white dwarf because the energy levels were deceptively stable. It was due to an anomaly in the core. Thankfully, their complete blackout was predicted with enough time to get everyone on the ship and into deep hibernation before takeoff.”

The end of the universe seemed almost impossible in this sterile dining room. Everything was spotless and organized to be in its most useful place. That included us, the human crew. I was seated closest to the door that led to the outside because I was in charge of security. Captain Apollo was the farthest from me and closest to the ship to ensure the highest chance of survival in case of an emergency. Freedom and Mercury sat on either side of the captain at the oblong dining room table. Freedom was the co-pilot, and Mercury oversaw communications. Victory and Triton, our two scientists and sister and brother, sat where they were comfortable minus the assigned seats.

Despite these official job titles and their corresponding duties, our main directive now consisted of leaving a record of anything related to humankind. We began filming our personal lives as well as our duties. Captain Apollo recorded tutorials on how to maintain and operate a spaceship, but she also recorded tutorials on how to make malleable clay from alien soil. She was a talented sculptor, and her sleeping quarters contained several clay miniatures of Old Earth animals. I mustered up the courage once to sneak into her room to take a closer look, and the textbook likeness of the oversized ears of the elephant to the rounded beak of the platypus was astonishing.

I recorded myself practicing ancient Earth martial arts such as Tae Kwon Do, Krav Maga, Muay Thai, and Jiu-Jitsu. As for something personal, I wracked my brain for a hobby or something worthwhile to leave behind for the vast unknown, but every time I thought about the end, my vision narrowed, and my breath became shallow. The ache of muscle, the push against the artificial gravity in the pods calmed me down, so I began freestyle dancing after my martial arts demonstrations, but deleted the data as soon as I was finished being silly.

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D-20 (projected), Earth-5050, Base Camp

“Today’s outside air feels especially fresh,” Victory said. I looked out the dining pod window – the desert landscape of Earth-5050 was a deep gold orange against the light blue of the atmosphere. Our white dwarf hung just above the horizon, its last rays keeping us alive.

“I guess we should breathe it in as much as we can,” I said. The last batch of explorer droids had flown in last night. There were no more viable stars within the number of light years we had the ability to travel before losing power. Captain Apollo had given the orders to prepare the deep hibernation chambers for us with the possible arrival of the Earth-5048 crew. However, they were late.

“Any word from your father, Mercury?” Captain Apollo asked.

“No, ma’am. And I’m afraid we’ve lost contact with the Earth-5049 crew as well. There’s been no data or message in 72 hours.”

A silence more awkward than the one that usually followed Victory’s morning comment pervaded the room. The vastness of space included the infinite possibilities of some malfunction or mistake. When one’s imagination began to act up, it was time to get back to work.

“The best we can do is hope,” Captain Apollo said. It was uncharacteristic of her to be so optimistic. Mercury finished her breakfast bar in two large bites and stood up.

“Excuse me, please,” she said. I stared at her full cheeks. She’d spoken with her mouth full. Old Earth bloodline Mercury. Born with a gold spoon in her mouth Mercury. The end of the universe really changed people, it seemed.

“Christopher, will you check on her?” Captain Apollo asked. She was just as surprised as me.

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied.

Strangely enough, Mercury was in my training pod, sitting in a corner with a box in her hands. The smell of my sweat rose sharply from the silicone mats. I walked over to the scent diffuser and turned it on before approaching our communications officer.

“Hey, are you all right?” I asked. She was around the same physical age as me, but sitting in a corner on the floor, she seemed like a child.

“I’m sorry for barging in on your training space, Christopher. I’m not quite sure why or how I ended up here,” Mercury said. She looked up at me and her face was drawn and tight with sadness.

“Your dad’s crew will get here before we go into deep hibernation,” I said, unsure if I was lying or not.

“Thank you for your kind words,” she said. The box in Mercury’s hands was made of wood, not plastic, and it rattled with her trembling.

“Can I ask you a question?” I asked. Maybe I was trying to distract her, or maybe I wanted the rattling to stop.

“Yes, of course.”

“I mean, you’re – you’re putting your neck out by being here with us, right? You and your dad. From everything I’ve noticed, you should be in premium deep hibernation in one of the Sleeping Old Earth planets. The chances of us surviving in these portable hibernation chambers long-term is almost 90% less than the ones you probably had access to. Why didn’t you and your dad go to sleep and wait for help or the birth of a new universe or some other miracle?”

Mercury’s answer took so long that I became fidgety. I shifted my weight from my left foot to my right and then sat down in front of her.

“I was looking for my sister,” Mercury finally said. She opened the wooden box and showed me a gold heart-shaped locket on a thin chain. The metal was burnished, and it looked fragile enough to crumble if I touched it.

“This was hers. She gave it to me before she left.”

“Left?” I asked.

“You’re right, Christopher. I’m from an Old Earth. My descendants are from the original Earth. I should be asleep, waiting for a new universe, but my sister didn’t want to be one of the 0.1% that survived. She still had hope that the majority of us could live on, so she joined an expedition to find viable stars against my parents’ wishes and left. She broke my mother’s heart. I broke my father’s when I joined this expedition to look for her.”

“Mercury.”

“Now it’s really the end. I never found my sister despite contacting every expedition I could find, and I forced my father to look for me. We’ve lost contact with Earth-5049’s crew, and my father’s crew is late, possibly dead.”

Her thin fingers covered her eyes as she cried, regret permeating from the ends of her hair down to her shaking knees. I wanted to pat her shoulder, but no action seemed powerful enough to make her sadness go away. To make any of our sadness go away.

“We’re still projected to have twenty days of energy before complete blackout. There’s still time, Mercury,” I said.

She looked up, her eyelids puffy and red.

“Thank you for trying to comfort me,” she said.

“I’m glad you’re here. You, Captain Apollo, Triton, Freedom, and Victory. Despite the inevitable, I’m glad you all are who I share the inevitable with,” I said.

Mercury wiped under her eyes and pinched her nose.

“Don’t talk like that. There’s still time, Christopher,” she said. I smiled at her, and she smiled back. I stood up and held my hand out to help her up.

“I think your sister deserves a large section in your recordings for posterity. You should wear the locket too,” I said.

“It might break because it’s an heirloom, but then again, we only have twenty days,” Mercury said.

“Yes, twenty days until complete blackout,” I replied.

We walked back to the dining room pod, together.