- True passengers / Chapter 1: Fuck it!
- True passengers / Chapter 2: I come to…
- True passengers / Chapter 3: Gradually…
- True passengers / Chapter 4: There is one thing
- True passengers / Chapter 5: Three days
- True passengers / Chapter 6: I wake up
- True passengers / Chapter 7: Let’s think
- True passengers / Chapter 8: I finally finish
- True passengers / Chapter 9: 2841 words
- True passengers / Chapter 10: Day 11
- True passengers / Chapter 11: Day 13
- True passengers / Chapter 12: Day 17
- True passengers / Chapter 13: Day 19
- True passengers / Chapter 14: Day 23
- True passengers / Chapter 15: Day 29
- True passengers / Chapter 16: Day 31
- True passengers / Chapter 17: Day 37
- True passengers / Chapter 18: Day 41
- True passengers / Chapter 19: Day 43
- True passengers / Chapter 20: Day 47
- True passengers / Chapter 21: Day 53
- True passengers / Chapter 22: Day 67
- True passengers / Chapter 23: Day 71
- True passengers / Chapter 24: Day 101
- True passengers / Chapter 25: Day 137
- True passengers / Chapter 26: Day 163
- True passengers / Chapter 27: Day 181
- True passengers / Chapter 28: Day 199
- True passengers / Chapter 29: Day 211
- True passengers / Chapter 30: Day 239
- True passengers / Chapter 31: Day 241
- True passengers / Chapter 32: Day 257
- True passengers / Chapter 33: Day 293
- True passengers / Chapter 34: Day 491
- True passengers / Chapter 35: Day 509
- True passengers / Chapter 36: Day 569
- True passengers / Chapter 37: Day 571
- True passengers / Chapter 38: I couldn’t bring myself
- True passengers / Chapter 39: When she comes to
- True passengers / Chapter 40: Day 577
- True passengers / Chapter 41: Day 593
- True passengers / Chapter 42: Day 599
- True passengers / Chapter 43: Day 601
- True passengers / Chapter 44: Like two clumsy helium-filled condoms
- True passengers / Chapter 45: Bitch!
Day 43. I went up to the control compartment again. I don’t know why. The first signal I sent didn’t even travel a tenth of the way. Another dry message: “Day 43. I’m still alive. Regenerating oxygen and water. Food supplies for 157 days. Awaiting instructions.“ Signed. I pressed ”Enter,” and my message flew off into nowhere again…
What instructions am I waiting for? What am I hoping for? A hundred and fifty days will pass, and no one will ever see my messages. It’s too far away. Space is too vast for humans. Or humans are too small for space. I think about this as I float weightlessly in the middle of the central compartment. From somewhere below, Sinatra’s voice breaks the deafening metallic silence. Or from above. Or from the right. It doesn’t matter here. I assume the position of a fetus in its mother’s womb. Like the space baby in Kubrick’s “Odyssey,” which I rewatched a couple of days ago. A space baby. Naive and romantic. Egocentric and smug. Who are we to space? Children? No… Just pieces of meat inside a metal can. Canned food that no one even has to eat.







