My Bright and Shining Star

As I nestle into his chest, feeling the warmth of his worn skin, firm muscle, his slowly beating heart, I can’t help but feel electrified. The nearness of his heart and mine reminds me of my purpose. I wouldn’t be here without him, and at this point I’m not sure he would be here without me. As we lie here together I feel remorse for all the time that I wasn’t able to share with him. His journey has been so, so long.

Today we reawakened for the seventh time. I feel his chest heave slowly as his lungs fill with air and he lets out a deep sigh. “I love you, my bright and shining star,” I tell him. He musters his energy for a smile, gently presses me to his lips, and leaves the bed. So the routine begins. He stretches his arms, then his legs, and performs a few reps of an old workout routine. “It started when I was just a boy,” he says as if to remind himself as much as to remind me. “Just a kid in junior high who felt he had a duty— some grand ordinance to serve my country.” He pauses to focus on some sit-ups, which always feel so much more difficult after waking from the cryo chamber.

When he’s finished with his workout he re-hydrates a soup-like mixture for sustenance. Taking a sip, he continues, “Dad had me sign up with the Aerospace Association before I could think twice about it, before the Exploration Administration was even a thing. At the time I thought that becoming an astronaut was my dream. Serve not just my country, but the world, by testing the limits of mankind’s reach.” Here he trails off and looks out a view panel. The vast emptiness surrounding our vessel reminds us how tiny we were. Tiny, and desperately far from home.

“But we didn’t need scientists in the sky, we needed them on the ground.” His voice turned gruff and hard, revealing a battle he often waged in his head. “The damn planet warned us that things were changing. We had so many opportunities, the resources, the money. By the time we paid any attention to what was happening it wasn’t good enough. California burned up before the coast ate its way deep into the west, Florida was crushed and drowned beneath its hurricanes, and entire countries sunk into the sea. Everything was on fire, everything was drowning, and it all happened so fast,” his voice cracks. This is where he usually chokes, holding back angry tears for the lives that were lost.

“I love you, my bright and shining star,” I remind him after too long has passed. He needs to keep going.

Another deep breath, and an even deeper sigh, and he continues. Our ship is small and it takes only a few strides for him to access the control panel. A voice chimes out, “We are approaching Exoplanet Gliese 357 d. Please prepare your Environmental Assessment Rover and prepare to monitor for landing.”

He breathes an exhausted “Thank you,” to the soulless recording before rummaging through a locker. Clean vials are loaded into the body of a small rover that is equipped with sample storage, air quality devices, and chemical composition tests. When he’s finished he taps some buttons on the control panel to initiate landing. “Gliese,” he pats the machine as though it has a head. “Lucky number seven, lucky Gliese.” It sounds more like a prayer than a statement.

“The Exploration Administration was sent out as a desperate attempt to find more habitable locations beyond the solar system. Mars is only good for so many people, and by the time I left Earth it looked like the West was going to win the fight against Russia and China. My dream of reaching beyond the stars turned out to benefit my country and my world indeed.” On the screen in front of him appeared a large planet, illuminated by a rather small star. “And now, here I am, searching for a place to call our own. For our future… if they’re still there.”

In this moment I know he is thinking of his friends, his family, the commanders and generals who tasked him with this lonesome journey. Astronauts were deployed in every direction with one impossible task: find a new home. The rest of the Western world, what was left after the apocalyptic chaos the Earth unleashed after centuries of abuse, preserved itself in a massive cryo chamber in the sky. A small population, hopefully, keeps the station in order. How many generations of leaders have passed in our time among the stars? Travelling light-years while suspended in a deep sleep caused us to lose track of time long ago.

The pain in his forlorn eyes reminds me of my job, my duty. I wish to tell him how much I love him, how far I will go with him, how happy I am to be here and support him on his journey. But I have one job. “I love you, my bright and shining star,” I say again. I wish I could say more— I wish it on all the stars we’ve passed, and all the stars that may still come.

But all I am is a metal locket, two hearts clasped together. Yours, now beating violently in your chest, and hers, light-years away. Although my heart is but the empty recording of a voice you may never hear again, and though you will never hear the words that I feel, the things I wish that I could share with you, I will always dutifully repeat the words you need to hear as you open me up time and time again. And when you need encouragement the most I will say: “I love you, my bright and shining star. Guide us home.”