Page 9 of The Lottery

—Alexi Leonov, Soviet and Russian Cosmonaut

* * *

A disembodied voice counts down from ten.

Ten seconds.

That’s all I have left on this planet.

* * *

10

I suck in my breath, every muscle in my body tense. Rigid.

9

As a young girl I would spend entire days outside, digging in the earth, discovering new flowers, leaves, and treasures of nature.

8

I never imagined I’d be leaving that earth behind forever.

7

That the planet I fought so hard to save would become unlivable.

6

That I’d be tasked with bringing a piece of Earth to Mars.

5

My stomach cramps. I blink, and swallow back the lump in my throat.

4

I am going to Mars.

3

The ship rumbles, readying for takeoff.

2

I take another deep breath and close my eyes again, silently mourning what we leave behind.

1

Goodbye, Earth.

* * *

Liftoff does not feel as I imagined it would. I expected a crazy, raucous departure, ship shaking, skin vibrating with my face pressed against a cold window as I watched in resigned awe my beloved planet move further and further out of reach.

Instead, the experience is sterile. Distant.

The engines and thrusters don’t make much noise beyond a steady hum and some vibrating.

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