Page 46 of The Lottery

I can’t stay away.

I pick up the tablet and continue to read. It’s through these notes I get to know the man behind the image. The man I saw a few glimpses of in our brief but powerful connections before we nearly ruined everything by getting caught with our pants down. Literally.

I see a marvelous mind at work, analyzing and extracting data that most would not see. I smile at subtle turns of phrases he uses, intended, I think, to evoke humor, but in such an offbeat way. I admire how he can parse data down to its core relevance, while still maintaining the nuances the information requires.

What I’ve learned about him over these weeks, even without having set eyes on him all this time… well, it makes me fall even harder. I can’t help it. As sexy as he is from head to toe, his brain is what melts me. The way his mind works turns me on more than rock hard abs, though I’m certainly not complaining about those. And then there’s his heart. The bits of vulnerable compassion I’ve seen when he talks about his motivations, his life as a child, what we all left behind. The way Marek Volkav has been woven together into utter perfection is the exact recipe for how to destroy me entirely, body, mind and soul..

I’m desperate to talk to him. To share ideas. To spend time exploring each other mentally, emotionally, and yes, physically. I can’t stop thinking about the night we almost went too far.

We did go too far.

But damn, we also didn’t go far enough.

“Good evening, passengers,” says Metis, pulling me from my thoughts. “Tomorrow night, we shall be hosting a ship-wide ball to celebrate our final descent through the stratosphere of our new planet.”

I almost leap into the air with excitement, and Lana looks at me oddly.

It’s an exciting night for so many reasons, but I’m only considering one. If the only way I can see him again, talk to him, be close to him, is to put on a ridiculous dress and party like we’re still on Earth even as we land on Mars, then fine. I will gladly play the part of a fool in a farce if it means I have even the slightest chance of filling my soul with Marek once more.

14

MAREK

“Unless humanity gives top priority to the space science, there will be no future for the humanity!”

- Mehmet Murat ildan, Turkish playwright, novelist and thinker

* * *

It is absolutely absurd to cling to our old ways on the eve of beginning a new life on a new planet. Why look back when there is so much to look forward to? Despite my objections, Elspeth assures me this is the right course of action. That everyone needs a night to bid farewell to one world as we say hello to another.

That, apparently, means hosting a ball hours before the ship passes through the exosphere of Mars. How very Everyman, is it not?

If they want a ball, they will have their ball, but I refuse to make anyone work who is not part of the core crew. Even engineers and pilots can take shifts to enjoy the festivities, as long as everyone takes their positions for landing. To that end, I made sure food and decor were prepared and set up in the days prior, so tonight can be a celebration for all.

It is bad enough we brought with us a toxic social structure when we escaped Earth. I do not want to arrive on Mars propping up the outdated constructs that spelled our doom from the start.

Something Azalea wrote in one of the reports I sent her has weighed on me for weeks. I look over her work every day, often sitting in the same document as she adds notes. It is as close as I can come to being in her presence. In one report, below all of her scientific notations, she wrote that we owe it to everything we left to get this right. To not make the same mistakes. To not destroy another planet.

What a weight for all of us to bear, and I fear too many are not taking that responsibility seriously.

In the course of the last several weeks, whether it be from cabin fever, living too long in close quarters with strangers, or just raw nerves, I have had to intervene in an increasing number of passenger conflicts. I hate policing the ship’s guests, and it does not bode well for our impending community if they are already at each other’s necks like wild hyenas.

Elspeth says a party is just what everyone needs. I fear a party is a mask over a cadaver. The rot will still stink.

In the end, I heed the advice of our captain. While I might have been a CEO in another life, used to managing large groups of people and making sure they stay happy, she has more experience captaining a ship full of stir-crazy passengers. It is an entirely different beast altogether.

At the end of the work day, my employees were able to go home to their families, their friends, their lives. On a ship, there is no leaving. We are it. This… this is it. This is all that remains.

So it has to be enough.

I would not admit to anyone outside myself that I am looking forward to this evening. Not for the ball or all the pretentious peacocking. I would gladly avoid that altogether. No, I eagerly anticipate the ball because after weeks of trying to stay away, I will finally set eyes on Azalea.

It has been an agonizing experience. I have only survived it by hiding in my room or the bridge, but every moment--waking or asleep--I think of her, wonder about her, drive Metis mad asking about her.

Tonight, I will get to see her. Speak to her. Perhaps even touch her.

I should not want this. I should avoid interaction with her lest it set me off course. We were lucky to come out unscathed from our near-scandal. We cannot count on luck twice.

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