good morning. here is more fiction. i had another story cooking, but it got out of hand and now i’ll have to start taking notes and turning it into a proper short story or novellette.
this story is based on an idea i had for a novella a few years ago. the idea still rattles around in my head occasionally, so this seemed like a perfect opportunity to write a little bit of it, almost like an opening chapter.
as always, Enjoy.
You May Not Survive the Trip
by Jeffrey C. Brister
Dear Jeff,
First of all, we want to thank you for your patience and strength through this process. Preparing an entire planetary population for transport off-world is a massive undertaking that requires cooperation, trust, and faith in our fellow man. We’re still not finished yet, but we’ve made significant progress in making as many Terrans as possible fit and able for transport. We are committed to enduring, even after such a devastating event like the one coming our way. Humans are nothing if not foolishly confident in our ability to adapt and overcome.
As you know, every human has been subject to extensive and strenuous testing, making sure that we save the most lives, and accomodate everyone, regardless of need. Our teams have innovated unimaginably far in a short period of time, pushing medicine and science ahead by centuries in a matter of years. Our goal has always been making sure everyone makes it off-world and into space alive, healthy, and able to thrive. No expense has been spared in making this dream a reality. No human shall be left behind—it is our duty, as people, to ensure the continuation of our species. You in particular have been exceptionally patient and strong through this, undergoing an even more extensive round of testing, working hard to prepare yourself for your own journey to the stars, and using what we’ve learned from your case to help others in your position. We thank you for the contributions you’ve made.
That said, it is with great sorrow that I write to you today. If you’ve not figured out what I’m going to say by the extensive preamble, this letter being sent to inform you that you have been deemed Unfit, High Mortality. Your constellation of health issues puts you at a very high risk of death before even leaving orbit. Everything we’ve done, all of the accommodations we’ve made, every single mitigation and regulation method available to us, none of it was enough to ensure anything better than 12% survival rate. Leaving in the standard method has you at a 2% rate. We tried everything we could, and set everything in the most ideal conditions possible, and these were the numbers.
All of us, myself included, are deeply saddened by this news. We have failed in our mission to guarantee the safety and survival of all of humanity. We knew that this would happen—has happened—but it never makes it any easier. Every loss means we didn’t do enough, that we didn’t truly try everything. For that, I’m sorry. The word feels meaningless, but it is the only thing I have.
You have three options, same as everyone else: you can leave knowing that you may not survive the trip, stay on Earth or Luna and perish from the impact, or undergo euthanasia. You don’t have to decide immediately, but the deadline is approaching rapidly. Take the time you need, get your affairs in order, and call me when you’re ready to make your decision, or just need to talk.
I’m sorry. I will always be sorry. We failed.