The last Letter

 

Hello,

Our science was wrong, dead wrong. We thought the Sun was only about halfway through its life cycle. To be wrong about that, was just inconceivable! This was the last story to be told. I'm Major Dustin McReynolds, the last person alive, now alone on the International Space Station. This was the end of a long story of life on a planet we called Earth. I had no idea I would be the one to finish it.

Being on the International Space Station is never boring! However, after a few months normal routines set in. It goes without saying, this final day was anything but normal. I had learned to sleep pretty well. Screams, shrieks and shouting woke me up from a relaxing sleep. All of my crewmates were consummate professionals, highly trained with a proven ability to thrive under pressure. Panic was not an option here. Being woken up by panicky voices could mean only one thing - something had gone catastrophically wrong. 

I scrambled out of the sleeping area and made my way to the observation station where all the fuss was coming from. All six of the other crew members were there. That, by itself, was a bad sign Important stations were uncrewed. 

“Hey! What the hell is going on here?” I shouted at them.

 This at least quieted everyone down but only one looked in my direction..

“The Sun,” Commander Seminov finally answered weakly, motioning me to come see for myself.

The color was wrong. The dazzling, bright, white light we were accustomed to was changing. I watched in horror, along with the others, as the color quickly and inexplicably shifted from yellow to red and finally orange. At last, it looked like an ember from a campfire before it flickered out completely. The following silence was deafening. 

“We must get home,”  Mission specialist Savoy said at last, moving towards the emergency escape capsule.

Everyone but me followed unquestioningly his lead. My colleagues had turned from consummate, scientific professionals to a small, panicked mob. I'm not sure which was more surreal: the disappearance of the sun or the disappearance of my colleagues’ professionalism. While boarding the emergency escape capsule, a semblance of professionalism reemerged. They slowed down and entered the capsule in an orderly fashion as we were all trained to do.

Semonov was the last to go in. 

 “Aren't you coming, McReynolds?”  he asked before boarding.

“No, I think it's pointless,” I answered.

“Don't you want to be with your family?”  He persisted.

“My family is in North America. The capsule will land in the middle of Asia. That's if you survive reentry, which without help from the ground, I think is unlikely. Even if you survive, I don't foresee booking a flight to the US anytime soon. Good luck, Commander,”  I said.

 With a slight head-nod, he closed the door. A few minutes later I felt a small shutter as the emergency capsule detached from and left the station. There was another capsule available if I suddenly became interested in a suicide mission. 

I had enough air, water and food to last several weeks. Now the only question was what to do with my time? The station would plod along on auto pilot long after I had passed away. There was nothing I needed to do to keep it running. All the experiments we had been working on for years now seemed pointless. Gone were all the brilliant sunrises and sunsets that never got old or routine. Space never disappoints. The view of the Stars was incredible, there really are no words to describe it. Magnificent stars in every direction, sadly way too far away to be of any help now.  But the view. That's what kept me going. Seeing stars does something to our mind, something good. I found the new silence strangely comforting. Even the Earth in this final state was strange and beautiful. City lights, fires and lights from who knows what else blanketed the otherwise dark surface. It was hauntingly beautiful. A new routine set in for me.

 I would sleep, eat, stargaze and watch the lights on Earth slowly go out. There were no communications from the ground. A few times,  I tried to call mission control but got no response. I had no way to know if my crewmates made it to the ground. Still, the stars didn't disappoint! Looking at them, I was able to escape the horrific situation I was in. That was until the low oxygen alarms started to sound.  I had one of two options. I can simply go to sleep and never wake up again or try the suicide mission trying to return to the Earth. I chose the latter.

To whoever may find this I want you to know it was only a matter of years before we joined you among the stars. We came close. If you dare to take a closer look at the world below, you will find the remains of our once promising civilization. And if you look hard enough, maybe even a few survivors. I congratulate you on your obvious success and wish you well. I have the emergency capsule and it is time for me to go. See you on the other side! 

 Sincerely,

Major Dustin McReynolds