Page 53 of The Lottery

We’re so close.

“Mars is beginning its 327th sol of its current year,” Metis announces as people crowd around. “Compared to a twenty-four hour solar Earth day, a Martian sol is twenty-four hours, thirty-nine minutes. It takes Mars 687 days to orbit the sun, making a year nearly double that of the Earth calendar.”

Sols instead of days. Years that take twice as long.

Everything is different.

The image on the screen doesn’t show the curves of a red globe, but rather the fuzzy glow of an alien atmosphere.

Except it’s not alien.

Not anymore.

Now, it’s home.

I feel so many things all at once. I miss Earth, and my grandmother. I miss streams and mountains, and trees most of all. I miss the smell of flowers and the feel of rain bouncing off my open palms. I miss the sight of bees drifting between petals and birds soaring overhead. Of sun soaking into my skin on a perfect summer day. Hard as it is to admit, I’ll miss my morning chai tea latte from my local coffee shop. At least before… before it all burned.

That’s the crux of it, isn’t it? What I miss no longer exists. We destroyed it.

But before me, I see a planet untouched and unsullied. Through the carbon dioxide and argon and molecular nitrogen, I see a world that we might inhabit without overindulging. I see chances for creating new life through a symbiotic relationship, growing plants for the sake of growth, not just to be chopped down and processed. I see hope. Hope that we can start anew. Hope that we can change and be better and do better now that we’ve been given this undeserved fresh start.

All of us died a little when we left Earth. That version of life is gone, and we had to lay it to rest.

This moment is scary. We don’t know what lies ahead, no matter how much data has been collected and how superb the terraforming is.

This is our rebirth. It was never going to be easy, but it might be beautiful.

I look at the gorgeous man to my side and our eyes meet, stealing one last private moment before we’re mixed in with the party.

As long as I can look into those eyes, everything will be fine.

We move next to Astrid and Robert, trying to act as though we’ve just been using the bathroom and nothing else happened. The moment we approach, however, Astrid glances at Marek and then looks at me. She gives the slightest smile, but it’s one that says everything.

She knows.

And that’s okay.

I exhale and smile back, stealing a peek at Marek before I look back at the screen. He and Astrid share the same content expression.

I glance at Robert, who gives me a friendly grin. Because he’s a friend.

Nothing more.

Lana and Silas stand nearby, both dressed in matching white. It is the first time I see them holding hands, their bodies buzzing with a nervous energy.

Whatever rules we’re supposed to follow, it’s not going to happen. If we have to have a conversation about it at some point, so be it. The algorithm got this one wrong, and I’m not going to pretend otherwise, or sacrifice my body and heart on the altar of a contract signed under threat of death on another planet.

“Shouldn’t you be on the bridge?” Robert asks Marek, noticing he’s still with us.

Marek looks momentarily shook by the question, I think for the same reason it makes my heart skip a beat. It feels like an interrogation, a pointed remark meant to uncover our secret relationship. An attempt to separate us.

Or, it’s a man who’s wondering why the one in charge of this entire mission isn’t overseeing the landing of his spaceship.

Marek and I relax in unison, both of us coming to the conclusion Robert’s interest is the latter.

“No,” Marek answers. “This is Captain Millard’s arena. For this I am just another passenger aboard her ship.”

“I’m not, unfortunately,” Astrid says, putting her untouched glass of champagne on a nearby table. “Duty calls on the crew deck.”

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