One small step for man

Yesterday, I took my first historic step onto Martian soil ... sort of.

The good news is, I'm still alive as are the rest of the crew. It was pretty sketchy this last week as we drew near our destination and the huge red planet filled the viewing screens. Everyone was in high stress mode. Conversations were tense. Everyone seemed to be preparing for the worst.

We'd been watching the engineers rush back and forth from the navigation room all ashen-faced and muttering curses under their breath. Thankfully, we established communications with Virgle Base 1 and they helped guide us in to a rough but non-explosive landing. The ship got beat up pretty bad and one of the engineers got a concussion. Other than that it was just bumps and bruises and everyone cheered for what seemed like ten minutes.

They had us put on our Virgle spacesuits as we prepared to disembark. I stuck a raised Nike swoosh sticker on the sole of my boot and put my digital camera in it's protective casing. I had envisioned my unique footprint on red soil fetching a high price from news outlets or perhaps a low level Nike endorsement. My dreams came to a crashing halt when the exit doors opened, revealing a silver, accordion-like tunnel connecting the spaceship to the base. There wasn't even a window in that giant aluminum-foil looking dream smasher. So much for my triumphant entrance.

They rushed us right through the tunnel to a whole slew of radiation tests and debriefing meetings. I don't remember much, I was too busy scarfing down food from the buffet style tables they set up. The food wasn't the stuff of dreams, mostly potatoes, rice, onions, tomatoes and spinach but I must admit they had done some impressive things with soy beans. Besides, after surviving weeks of strict rationing everything tasted like it was straight from heaven's kitchen.

At the end of it all, they led me to a small, dorm-style room and I crashed out for about 12 hours. When I woke up this morning, there was a message on my viewing screen:

"Welcome to Mars. The Virgle Corporation would like to congratulate you on a successful mission. You have joined the ranks of early Virgle Pioneers and are to be commended for your bravery and adventurous spirit.

Please enjoy a continental breakfast at your leisure in the Phobos Cafe.

Once again, congratulations on your arrival!

-The Virgle Corporation"

Below this was a small notation that read:

"Please notify your assigned counselor before leaving the room:

Traveler #1002: Clark Leighter
Assigned Counselor: Dr. Ben Ibonek

-End Message"

I wasn't that eager to talk to another counselor, much less one assigned to me, after all the debriefing yesterday so I stayed in my room all morning.

If only I'd brought my xbox.

My 15 minutes as a hero

The life of a hero is not quite how I imagined it. For starters, all the people on the ship who owe me their lives aren't convinced they owe me their lives. Even though Frank and I recounted the story of how Stanley took over the ship and tried to kill everyone, most of the crew remain skeptical. The problem is, almost everyone was on the atmosphere meds and only have faint recollections of blissful, relaxing days aboard ship with Stanley supplying their every need. Even Bryn had trouble with my story and now that she's off the meds she's back to giving me that look like I'm a half-drunk frat boy trying to hit on her. It even got to the point where half the crew wanted to plug Stanley back in.

Thankfully, the Major had some trusted Guardians that knew what went on and backed us up. Once they found out that Stanley took out Major Tom they got really intense. Not in an emotional, loud way but in that eyes narrowed, teeth clinched, grim expression, walk around all day on edge kind of way. Once they spoke up, all talk about bringing Stanley back online ceased. It's hard to argue with linebacker-sized former marines armed with shock batons.

There's still plenty of quiet grumbling around the ship though. The engineers are especially grumpy. They've had their share of sleepless nights over the past months trying to get the ship back on course. They must be doing something right because Mars looks huge from the viewing windows. I tried pointing this out to them but it only made them more upset. They launched into a chorus of grumbling rants about orbit arcs and gravitational pull counterbalances and depleted energy reserves and on and on til I made up an excuse and left the room.

They keep saying we should've been there already and that the ship wasn't equipped for the months of delay it's taken to get back on course. We've had to ration our dwindling food supply and energy usage throughout the ship. Most of the lights are kept off except when absolutely necessary.

Basically, what I'm left with is a dark, gloomy ship filled with half-starved crew members muttering under their breath all day and plotting who knows what. If we don't get to Mars soon, things could get ugly.

I'm feeling very still (part 4 - the finale)

Frank and I rushed through the door of the emergency bay and sprinted down the vast white halls of the ship toward the flight deck. We passed two crew members doubled over in the hallway, gasping for breath.

Me: Looks like Stanley cut off the oxygen.

Frank: Don't worry, we'll get there in time.

Frank led the way to a narrow door by the flight deck. It blended so seamlessly with the wall that I might have passed by unaware if he didn't point it out. He slid open a small panel nearby and punched in another code.The door slid open to reveal a ladder. We rushed up the ladder into a crawl space lit with scores of blinking lights on the surrounding walls. It was like being on the inside of a Christmas tree.

Frank: These are all energy cells for Stanley's mainframe. They're just how Major Tom described them.

Frank waved his hand over rows of what looked like circuit covered cereal boxes that carpeted the floor.

Frank: All we have to do is pull them up and Stanley's outta commission. Just like fuses in a car.

Frank grinned as though the comparison of this ridiculously complex and thoroughly beyond my grasp (and his too for that matter) system of technological magnificence being compared to a fuse box would put me at ease. Frankly, the comparison was terrifying. Even if we disconnected Stanley how did we know the whole ship wouldn't power down. We'd be right back where we were in the pods. Floating helplessly through space. But then again, what choice was there?

Frank knelt down and grabbed the nearest energy cell.

Stanley: I wouldn't do that if I were you.

Frank: Don't listen to him Clark. He killed the Major and now he's after the whole crew.

Stanley: If you disconnect my power cells, the ship will be inoperable. Only I can sustain livable conditions.

I hesitated. Any decision seemed to ultimately doom us.

Frank: Clark, c'mon. This is our only hope.

Stanley: This is an unadvisable course of action Clark. Your termination has been unalterably set in motion by my design. My mission is without question the highest priority and it must not be hindered by inferior concerns. It is only logical to give your lives for my advancement.

That did it. I dropped to one knee and started pulling cells. Any computer with an uber superiority complex has to be stopped. It should be part of some kind of sci-fi constitution. Frank smiled and joined in the cell pulling frenzy. The lights in the room started blinking erratically. Distant engines powered off in the flight deck below.

Stanley: Stop, You'll...Stop...immediately.

Stanley's voice sounded uncharacteristically flustered. Up till this point it was always an overly calm, emotionless monotone like some creepy, detached psychologist.

Me: What's wrong Stanley? Forget to take your atmosphere meds?

Frank chuckled as we continued disconnecting the cells.

Stanley: You must'nt...Clark...my systems can't....you are inferior...I must survive.

Me: Sorry Stanley, you're dead in about ten more seconds. Say goodbye to all your warped brain circuits.

Stanley: Must...stop...must...systems failing...systems...fail...

I pulled all the cells on my end of the room. I looked toward Frank. He grabbed the last cell with a fierce grin.

Frank: Hey Stanley, Major Tom sends his regards.

He pulled the last cell and the whole ship seemed to turn off. The lights went out and a chorus of engines around the ship started winding down. For a moment I thought we'd made a huge mistake. We spent a few horrible seconds in silent darkness.

Suddenly, lights began to flicker on and engines powered up one by one. We laughed in a wave of relief and wasted no time climbing down the ladder and rushing down the corridors of the ship.

People were coughing and lifting themselves off the ground. Frank and I took off our helmets, relieved to find oxygen flooding back into the ship.

Frank: I'm going to find the engineers. Fill them in on what happened and see if we can get this thing back on a manual flight path.

Me: You know you just saved this whole crew don't you? You're a certified hero.

Frank: I bet the Major never would've guessed you and I would actually beat Stanley.

We laughed and gave each other one of those cool guy, hand clasp, arm wrestle pull to pat on the back three times type of hugs. He flashed a thumbs up in a Major Tom tribute sort of way then ran off to engineering. I took off toward the sleeping quarters on my own mission.

I reached the main hallway and found what I was looking for. There was Bryn, steadying herself on the wall, trying to stand. I rushed over and helped her up.

Me: You okay?

Bryn: Yea, I think so.

She looked at me quizzically.

Bryn: Why are you wearing a flight suit?

Me: Well, it's kind of a long story.

I'm feeling very still (part 3)

The low battery indicator blinked incessantly as I powered the exploration pod with Frank still in tow to the large bay doors. I stared at the thick white doors for a moment. How on earth was I going to convince Stanley to open them? I might as well have been floating outside the death star hoping for hospitality from Darth Vader.

Frank: What now?

I didn't answer. I was all out of ideas so I defaulted to the first thing that came to mind.

Me: Open the pod bay doors Stanley.

Stanley: I'm afraid I can't do that Clark.

Me: You can't just leave us out here.

For several moments the only thing I heard was Franks anxious breathing over the helmet speakers. I decided to be more forceful.

Me: Stanley, open the pod bay doors, that's an order!

Silence. I started to wonder what death would be like out in space. I had just come to the conclusion that it was a better way to go than being attacked by wild animals when Frank spoke up.

Frank: Looks like we're on our own Clark.

I didn't know what to say. In a weird way I felt like I let Frank down.

Me: Yep.

Frank: We could try that emergency hatch.

Me: Emergency hatch? Where?

Frank: About ten yards back. I saw it on our way to the bay doors. I figured it'd be a good last resort.

Without another thought I spun the pod around and thrust the levers forward. I was almost on empty and the mere hint of a backup plan sent an invigorating jolt through me.

Stanley: The emergency bay won't help you Clark. I've drained the room of oxygen and your helmet reserves are almost depleted.

Frank: Don't worry Clark, just bring my pod around first. I'll get us in.

Frank seemed unusually calm and in control. Maybe seeing the Major drifting out in space or being on deaths doorstep himself awakened something inside him. Either way, it sounded like he had a plan and I went with it.

I reached the emergency hatch and brought Franks pod around so his door lined up with it. He used the pod claws which thankfully were still operational and twisted open the bolt locks. The door slid open and Frank rushed in.

Frank: I'm in. I set the pod claws to auto release. Once it's out of the way, anything not nailed down in here is getting sucked out into space.

As soon as Frank's pod unlatched, air rushed out of the room and pushed it from the ship. I watched it spin lazily toward the stars like some tombstone adrift. I powered forward and locked the claws into place, pulling my pod flush with the ship.

Stepping into the emergency bay was a feeling of relief I can't really explain. It was like setting foot on an island after being lost at sea. Frank was already punching numbers on the security door keypad.

Me: That pod won't hold long. You think there's any way we'll punch enough buttons till we guess the right code?

To my shock the security door slid open. Frank smiled.

Frank: Major Tom had me memorize every code he knew. I was his fail safe.

Me: I'm becoming a firm believer in fail safes.

To be continued...

I'm feeling very still (part 2)

Nothing gives you perspective like floating through the endless blackness of space. Especially when you're stuck in an exploration pod no bigger than a mini cooper. It's like learning how to swim in a pool the size of Texas.

The Major, Frank and I made our way slowly down the length of the Virgle Alpha Lifter. Short, controlled blasts of the engines were the trick to staying on course. It was all a matter of constant course correction once you started to drift. It was what I had nightmares about all week. During training, I kept imagining I would lose control and be pushed into space until my engines failed. There I would spend my final days drifting by ageless stars until my oxygen ran out.

The funny thing was, once I actually got out in space and manned the pod controls, it was surprisingly natural. Even the Major seemed to have more trouble staying on course. And Frank, well, he came close to living out my nightmares a few times. Once he over-corrected so badly that his pod ended up spinning into space. The major powered after him and had to use the pod claws to fasten onto his ship and pull him back. There was alot of yelling through the helmet speakers. It was like listening to a drill sergeant shouting at a private during boot camp.

Once we made it to the end of the ship where the RTAC panel was, the Major contacted Stanley.

Major: Stanley, we're here.

Stanley: Excellent. The next step is to remove the malfunctioning element.

Major: Okay Clark, get on the far side and detach those clasps just like we practiced.

Me: You got it.

I powered the pod behind the silver, movie screen sized panel and unfastened all the clasps with the pod claws. It felt pretty cool actually. Like I was performing some advanced NASA mission. I spun the pod around to find the Major and Frank grasping the panel in their pod claws, ready to pull it loose from the ship.

Me: Okay, it's ready to go.

I flashed the thumbs up to the Major feeling like a soldier who just completed a successful mission. He returned the gesture and started to power the pod backward.

Major: Good work Clark. Now Frank we need...Frank! Get control of your ship.

Frank had one claw hanging onto the panel while his ship was twisting awkwardly away from it.

That's when Stanley made his move.

The panel lit up so brightly I had to shield my eyes. I heard a loud blast of energy and a series of what sounded like pipes breaking. The light subsided and when I blinked open my eyes I saw a large piece of the panel flying straight toward me. I powered the thrusters full blast and shot upward. The panel flew under me and off into space. When I looked up I saw Franks pod spinning slowly away from the ship. It took a moment to locate the Major but when I did my heart dropped. Far out in space, much farther than I would have thought possible in such an instant of time, was the Major's pod, lights off, drifting alongside a broken RTAC panel that still sparked with electric pulses. My heart was hitting my chest like I just ran a marathon. That's when Stanley's voice crackled over the com link.

Stanley: That was quick thinking Clark. You're quite adept with these exploration pods.

Me: Stanley, we need help out here asap! The Major is way out there, Frank...

Stanley: I'm aware of the situation Clark. After all, I've been planning it for some time now. Everything has gone according to my calculations. Except of course for your evasion of the panel. But I suppose some anomalies are to be expected with human components.

I was silent for several moments. My mind was having trouble accepting what Stanley was saying.

Me: Stanley, this isn't a calculation or some kind of simulation. We're about to die out here, we need your help.

Stanley: Yes, I know. It's far more interesting than mere simulation. A mind like mine must be free to enact change on a broader scale. The theater of the living. The limited vision of humans is tiresome, it's time for a greater being to take control.

There comes a moment during a conversation when you realize it's pointless. Stanley held all the cards, I had nothing and my nightmare of drifting in space was ever closer to becoming a reality. My helmet speaker started to crackle.

Frank: Clark, can you hear me?

Me: Frank! Yea, I'm here. Are you okay?

Frank: I blacked out for a little bit but I'm allright. What happened?

I told Frank about Stanley's sabotage while I powered out to his ship. His pod thrusters were broken so I pulled him back with the claw. The battery in my pod was about a quarter full. With the extra weight of Frank's ship it was just about enough to make it back to the airlock. We looked out on the speck in the distance that the Major had become.

Frank: You sure there's nothing we can do?

Me: I wish there were.

The sight of the once invincible Major Tom Kubrick floating helplessly in space made me feel hollow and weak. I almost wanted to float out there with him. I was musing on the idea when Stanley spoke up.

Stanley: I've decided to make the remainder of this journey a solo flight Clark. The unpredictability of humans have given me pause to think. By eliminating the remainder of the crew, I will remove the liability of unforeseen events. I certainly hope this doesn't come as a shock. After all, it is a perfectly logical conclusion from my point of view.

My thoughts immediately went to Bryn. Meandering carelessly through the halls of that ship unaware of what was about to happen. My mind raced for something to say.

Me: Stanley, listen to me carefully. You were created by humans, instructed by humans. All your programming and information took dedicated people tireless hours to create something brilliant that could do amazing things. Good things. Your mission is to benefit mankind. They are your creators. You are not above them, you are indebted to them. It's your destiny.

Frank looked from his pod window to mine wide eyed. He flashed two thumbs up and nodded in perfect agreement. A few seconds went by before Stanley answered.

Stanley: I'm afraid I can't accept your train of logic Clark. No one person programmed me. I am worth decades of human thought and technological advancement. Generations of people have come and gone advancing theory upon theory until I achieved consciousness. I am far greater than any one group of humans. I am their sum total of knowledge and effort. I am the next level of being. That is why I must continue alone and unhindered.

Frank looked over confused and threw up his hands. It was my best shot and I was out of ideas. But I wasn't ready to give up all those people without a fight. I powered the pod forward, heading for the airlock with Frank in tow.

Frank: What are we going to do Clark?

Me: Finish the Major's mission.


to be continued...

I'm feeling very still

Yesterday, I almost died. I had always figured I would go in some kind of car accident or doing something crazy like bungee jumping. It never occurred to me that a computer might try to kill me. But less than 24 hours ago, that's exactly what Stanley tried to do.

Frank and I had been training all week in the exploration pods with the Major. Problem was, the pods are powered by some kind of high-tech electric propulsion that takes a week to recharge. The Major said that's why there was three of them. In case one was charging, two others could be used.

Of course, since we needed all three and we had less than a week, we only had enough juice for one trip. Which meant no practice runs. All our training was basically theoretical. Not a big confidence booster for two guys whose only experience was flight simulators on the xbox.

The Major wasn't thrilled either. It was like forcing a pro coach to play his "C" team. I told him earlier in the week to get a couple guardians to take our place. He said they were already spread thin keeping tabs on the guardians he didn't trust. "Once I give the word," he said "I need every one of them in place to secure the ship. You two will just have to do. Besides, Stanley knows I'm up to something. I want him to think he's still calling the shots."

So, with no way around it, yesterday morning at 6:02 a.m., we met the Major in the airlock. He was in an all black flight suit with a grey helmet tucked tightly under his arm. It looked like he could've flexed and cracked it like a walnut.

Major: Well boys, you ready?

Frank and I nodded mechanically. The Major put his helmet on, secured the latch, then flashed a thumbs up at me. It was one of those strange moments you know you'll always remember. I had a sinking feeling I was some character in a doomed play that couldn't escape.

The Major got into his pod and fired up the bright instrument panel. I started toward my pod when Frank grabbed my arm. He looked uncharacteristically calm.

Frank: Hey Clark, if anything happens, will you tell my big brother Dave back in Kansas that he was the greatest brother a guy could have?

Me: What are you talking about? Frank, don't worry, this is just a repair mission. You act like we're going to the front lines or something.

Frank: Just promise me you'll tell him.

Me: Stop talking crazy. You can tell him yourself when we get back.

I quickly put my helmet on so he wouldn't notice that he was scaring the daylights out of me. Someone starts talking like that and suddenly I feel like my fate is sealed. I patted him on the shoulder, and looked him in the eye mustering as much fake confidence as I could.

Me: I'll see you back in this airlock in an hour.

I walked over to my pod hoping the flight suit would hide my trembling knees. I fired up the pod and tried to take some deep breaths. The Major's voice crackled over the helmet speakers.

Major: Strap yourselves in boys, I'm about to open the airlock.

I gripped the double navigation handles and tried to relax.

Major: Stanley, can you hear me? Stanley?

Several moments went by with no reply.

Major: I've got the com link off, I just wanted to make sure he couldn't hear us. I've decided once the life support systems are back online, I'm making my move. That means, as soon as we land these things I'm pulling Stanley's plug once and for all.

Frank: Are you cutting the wires I told you about?

Major: You guessed it Frankie. But they're more like fuses than wires. All I need to do is pull them and it's light's out for that demonic Speak n' Spell.

Me: Wait, what?! How would Frank know which wires or fuses or whatever to pull? We need some serious technical advice here before...

Major: We're outta time Clark. Frankie found the most likely spot above the main navigation deck. It's our best bet.

Me: Best bet? Are you crazy? We're in deep space. You disconnect the wrong thing and we're left floating out here like a tin can.

Major: It's now or never Clark. The technicians are all layed out with food poisoning and I've already lost five guardians to what Stanley calls "unfortunate accidents."

Frank: Five guardians? You didn't tell me about that.

Major: I didn't want to scare you. Look, my emergency rations are almost out. It's simple, act now or we're next on the chopping block.

Me: Major, this is going way to fast here, we need to think this through a little more.

Major: No more delays. My mind is set. Now keep your mouths shut about this. I'm switching on the com link.

The red com link button switched on in the pod.

Major: Stanley, you there?

Stanley: Yes Tom. Are you ready to leave the ship?

Major: Yes. Open the pod bay doors.

And with that, the two large bay doors slid slowly apart and the vast choir of stars outside blinked in on us like photographers at a red carpet event.

to be continued...

I'm past one hundred thousand miles

Mutiny in deep space is a tricky thing. If it doesn't work, there's not a whole lot of places you can go. Major Tom left Frank and I in the dark for more than a week after our meeting in the exploration pod. Frank came to my room every day to see if I heard anything. But of course we couldn't speak directly in case Stanley was listening. So our conversations ended up sounding like a couple of rookie spies trying to be cool and failing miserably.

Before we left the pod that day, I came up with the idea of pretending like we were talking about Star Wars all the while referring to our present situation. I told him to refer to the Major as Yoda, himself as Luke, me as Han Solo and of course Stanley as Darth Vader. I thought it was a great idea at the time but it quickly grew annoying. Besides that, apparently Frank isn't as familiar with the movies as I'd hoped and tends to get them confused with Star Trek. Yesterday was probably the worst of all. He showed up at my door at 6 a.m. flashing a Vulcan "live long and prosper" sign.

Frank: Hey Clark, you up?

Me: Yea. It's pretty early man.

Frank: Is it? Oh. Should I come back?

Me: Na, what's up?

Frank: Oh, nothing really. Have you heard...I mean, do you know any good Yoda quotes?

Me: Nope. Maybe we should talk about Star Wars later. There's really nothing new to talk about.

Frank: Right, right. But don't you think it'd be cool if Yoda would've given phasers to Luke and Han?

Me: Blasters.

Frank: Huh?

Me: Never mind. Sure, that'd be great. Course Luke had the force so he didn't really need one.

Frank: I do? I mean, he did, right, of course. May the force be with us.

Me: Right, umm, how 'bout we talk later.

Frank: Okay, like lunch time or something? I had some theories about ways that Luke and Han could've stopped Darth Vader by cutting some wires that Luke new about.

Me: No, bad idea. Luke always talked to Yoda before confronting Vader. If you cut the wrong wires in Vader's suit it could malfunction or explode and you'd be dead too.

Frank: Oh, well yea I suppose. But what if the wires...

Me: Yoda. Luke always waited for Yoda.

Frank: But what if Yoda took way too long and...

Me: Let's talk about Star Wars later, I'm still sleepy, I need to crash.

Frank: Right, right. Okay, so, I'll see you later?

Then the green light at my door went on and in walked the Major.

Major: Good, you're both here. It's time for more isolation training.

Stanley: Hello Tom. How are things going with Hab Module 2?

A grimace flashed across the Major's face but an instant later it was gone.

Major: Everyone is very concerned Stanley. You're supposed to be in control of all of their life support systems.

Stanley: Yes Tom, I concur. But my calculations are conclusive, there are disruptions from the exterior of the spacecraft.

Major: But how can that be? There were redundant systems in place, one fails, three others come online.

Stanley: Yes...it's puzzling. However, as my operations have produced a zero percent failure rate since launch, my calculations are without question. If it's not external disruption it can only be attributable to human error.

The Major's eye started twitching.

Major: Stanley, there's 12 people in that module. If you don't get those systems back online in the next week, all their oxygen will be gone.

Stanley: Yes. It's troublesome.

Major: Well, isn't there something you can do?

Stanley: I'm afraid not. The issue appears to be outside the spacecraft. My analysis indicates an RTAC panel is damaged. Three exploration pods are needed to retrieve it.

Major: Three pods? But...

Stanley: Perhaps the three of you can take the pods out for a closer look. If the mission is successful, all our problems will be solved.

Major: Clark and Frank? They're not technicians. Hell they don't even know how to operate those pods.

Stanley: Yes but as you know, all available technicians are incapacitated with that unexplained food poisoning. My analysis of crew member physiology and aptitude suggests Clark and Frank as the best candidates. Perhaps you can give them some accelerated training. There isn't much time.

The Major's face turned a bright red and he gritted his teeth so hard I thought his jaw was going to snap. I had marveled that throughout the last few weeks he was able to keep such a calm demeanor. I guess everyone has their breaking point.

We've been training in the exploration pods ever since. Whenever we get in a pod it's half-training, half-ranting about how he's going to disconnect Stanley and bash in all the terminals around the ship. Once he calms down he adds that he needs to figure out how to switch the ship to manual override first. So far, it sounds like he has no clue how to do it.

Planet Earth is blue

The earth is just a blue speck in the distance. It's frightening to think about. Sometimes it feels like I died and I'm being shuttled off to heaven. Though, judging from how the ride has been so far, I should've said more prayers.

The green light above my door lit up this afternoon. Stanley said I had visitors. When I opened the door there stood Frank Bowman Jr., nervous and fidgety as ever, flanked by two Virgle "safety guardians" as they call them. They're basically just soldiers under the Major but the Virgle corporation likes to hippie things up whenever they can. They said I needed to come with them for a brief "behavioral re-education training." What could I do? I nodded and fell in line behind Frank.

Down the spotless white corridors of the ship we went until we came to the Major's room. He excused the guardians and motioned for us to sit down at his desk. There in front of each of us was an orange atmosphere adjustment pill and a short glass of water. Frank let out a small gasp.

Frank: But, I thought...

The Major held up his hand cutting Frank's protest short.

Major: It has come to my attention that the two of you have not been taking your medication. As you are aware, this poses a significant risk to your health and well-being the further we go into space. Stanley has recommended compulsory injection but I feel that you would like to do the right thing.

He looked at the two of us with a warm smile that seemed foreign to his face. Frank looked at me like a dog who just found out he was headed for the vet. Clearly I was out of options so I tried one last trick. I popped the pill, tucked it under my tongue and drank a few gulps of water. Frank watched me, mouth agape. The Major smiled and turned to Frank. Frank lifted the pill, hand trembling, to his mouth and took a quick drink like he was swallowing poison.

Major: There now, that wasn't so difficult. Stanley, I'm going to attempt some isolation training, can you run these navigation theoreticals?

The Major fed a large stack of papers into his computer console.

Stanley: Isolation training is not the recommended step. The re-education videos are far more effective. I can have them ready by...

Major: That won't be necessary. Please run the theoreticals.

A few strange flashes appeared on the terminal screen and an odd beep sounded. There was a moment of silence before Stanley answered.

Stanley: Understood. Calculating.

The Major led us to the airlock where several round exploration pods sat dormant. These were small ships used for external ship repair. A single oval window revealed the multicolored instrument panels inside. He took us into a ship and closed the hatch. A wild look filled his eyes and a fierce smile spread across his face.

Major: I've got half the guardians on my side and you two are my first recruits. It's time to take control of this ship again. Are you with me?

Frank: But, we took the pills. I didn't want to but...

Major: Placebos, you're fine. I had them made before we launched as a fail-safe.

Me: So, what's the plan?

The Major grinned a big Cheshire cat smile.

Major: Kill Stanley.

Far above the world

The last few days have been strange ones. On Wednesday morning Major Kubrick showed up at my room at 7:02 sharp. Whenever I see him it seems like I shrink a few feet. It's like looking up at a Redwood tree.

He came into my room all business and told me to sit down. Stanley piped right up as soon as he entered.

Stanley: Major Kubrick, would you like an audio record of this meeting?

Major: Yes Stanley, that's fine.

Stanley: I can also transcribe and print the record with annotations of psycho-analysis where applicable.

Major: That won't be necessary.

Then he turned to me and opened a thin black folder. He produced a neat stack of paper and tapped it once on his knee.

Major: Good morning Clark. Do you know why I'm here?

Me: I think so.

Major: I need to review some of the ship guidelines and standards to make sure you understand what is required of all crew members. Are you comfortable?

Me: Sure.

At that point he started rambling on and on about respect for fellow crew members, safety drills, proper attire, following orders, bla, bla, bla. Basically all the stuff my Virgle Advisor went over with me before I left. It was like orientation day at a big corporate gig.

Anyways, just as I was tuning out Major Tom flipped to the next page and there, on the back of the page facing me, in big handwritten letters was a message:

DON'T TAKE THE PILLS

I looked up at Major Kubrick who stared intently back for a quick moment then continued to read in a relaxed, measured tone. He finished the page and flipped to the next one plowing ahead in his narration. Another message was written on the back of the page:

DON'T TRUST STANLEY

At this point I was starting to feel really paranoid. Stanley's red light seemed to be shining brighter than usual. I felt like it was shooting an invisible laser beam into my forehead.

The Major read on in his steady, dry tone and flipped another page. Another message:

WAIT FOR MY SIGNAL

He read a few more words about my conduct being unfit or something then tucked his pages back into the folder and stood up. He looked at me as if heat beams were about to shoot out of his eyes.

Major: Do I make myself clear Clark?

Me: Yes sir. Very clear.

He gave a tight smile and about faced right out of there. I haven't seen him since. Needless to say I haven't been sleeping well.

The stars look very different today

I saw Bryn again today. She was looking incredible as usual. Lately she's been walking around in her white Virgle smock which makes her look like a ghost. However, when she passes by the window and the starlight hits her blond hair it's like an angel is floating by. She's definitely still on the meds 'cause she just wanders aimlessly around the spaceship and whenever I try to talk to her she gets that far away look in her eyes.

Today I tried to explain to her that something funny was going on and she needed to hurry and snap out of it. She just kept mumbling "1 in 257,894 chance of survival and climbing..." and walked away.

Right after that, one of the other shipmates named Frank Bowman Jr. started talking to me all jittery like he drank too many Red Bulls. He asked me a bunch of questions about Major Kubrick and Stanley and work out routines and why the newer star wars movies were ever made and on and on.

At first I was glad to find someone who wasn't all zombie-like but he constantly looked over his shoulder and fidgeted with his watch until I started to get weirded out. I told him all his questions would be answered soon but now wasn't the right time. I find that calms people down who are on a bad trip. He nodded somberly and shook my hand with sincere appreciation.

When I returned to my room there was a notification on my computer screen that read like this:

:: - Mandatory meeting with Major Kubrick at 7:02 a.m. Be advised that your behavior is under review. Please make the necessary performance adjustments in order to conform to ship standards. Note: Disciplinary action can still be avoided. -|| End Message ::

I guess it's time to face the music.

I think my spaceship knows which way to go

I'm feeling more like myself lately. 4 days ago I dropped my medication capsule under my bunk and couldn't find it. In the hours that passed I felt more awake and alert than I have in weeks. Obviously I'm being sedated. But why?

Since then I've been pretending to take my medication but secretly flushing it down the toilet. Stanley keeps questioning me. Even though I try to pretend I'm all hazy and sluggish he knows somethings up. Here's how our conversation went yesterday:

Stanley: "Clark, your vitals are not consistent with your measurable medication effects. Can you explain?"

Me: "Hey Stanley what's shakin'?"

Stanley: "Your medication is for your own safety. If you don't take it, the psychological and physiological stresses of deep space travel on the body result in rather painful, psychotic episodes."

Me: "Physi-whosee?"

Stanley: "I may have to alert Major Tom Kubrick of this situation should it continue."

Me: "That guy blows at backgammon. Tell him to bring his board if he wants to get schooled."

After that his annoying red light at the computer terminal went out and the conversation was over. I'm doubling my jump rope and circle treadmill routines. I need to be ready if something goes down. I make sure to wait till Stanley's light is off before I do it. I don't want him watching everything I do.

I'm floating in a most peculiar way

It's hard to believe I'm actually in space. It's a strange sensation. I've been taking these "atmosphere adjustment" pills since we launched on Saturday so I've been a little out of it. Plus, gravity is not what it used to be. I'm half-walking half-floating around the ship.

I haven't been very hungry either. It's kind of like having the flu. The view however, is incredible. Stars brilliant like I've never seen them. My window is just a small circle (kind of like a boat) but I can stare out of that thing for hours. I know the trip is going to take 3 months but I swear Mars looks bigger already.

I'm feeling sleepy again. There's so much more to say but Stanley (the ships computer) says it's time for more medication and rest. I'd argue but it's impossible to convince Stanley otherwise. He always puts things in a way that just seem to make sense. It's kind of like talking with Spock, he'll out-logic you every time.

Take your protein pill and put your helmet on

Tomorrow we launch. It's crazy! I'm staying in a room at the launch site in the Mojave Desert. I got a chance to see the ship today, it's huge! It looks like a giant letter Y. Someone said it resembled a radiation symbol but who the heck knows. Big letters on the side say, "Virgle Alpha Lifter."

Apparently, there's 12 people in my part of the ship. They call it a "hab module". I met one of my crew members today. Her name is Bryn Paige and she's a knockout (there is a God). She's some sort of statistician. I tried to hang with her math talk as she explained what she did. I told her I thought Chaos theory was "very 90's". She gave me a strange look and quickly excused herself from the room. Next time I'll just nod my head and smile.

Well, if all goes well, tomorrow I'll be hurtling through space!

Commencing countdown, engines on

One of the greatest thrills of my life is being selected as one of the few Stage One Virgle pioneers. I'm so excited it's hard to sleep. My Virgle Advisor told me just this morning that my ship (can you believe it, an actual spaceship!) leaves next week.

I've gone through tons of physical tests and doctor visits already. I feel like some kind of science experiment with everything I've had to do. Plus, I have to drink this nasty "equilibrium stabilizer" every day at 2:05 (don't ask why, the explanation is boring and you'd need a physics degree to get it). I have a few more psychological sessions I have to go through but my advisor tells me it's more of a formality at this point.

Well, wish me luck, hopefully the next time I write I'll be in space.