No-one can explain the expansive nothingness of flying through space; it makes you wonder if movement is an illusion hurtling through the flat darkness – everything looking the same as though you were stood still.
Our hero, our returner, Frank 4000, had been enduring this journey for six months. His automated system forged towards his pinpointed base on Earth; that beautiful, colourful, noisy, all-consuming, wondrous place that we take for granted. His slick, silver shell yearned to feel the heat of a human hand once again and his giant eye wished to devour something other than the same stagnant view he’d experienced for so long.
He flew through the galaxy like a giant pinball let loose; but luckily his system guided his way. As he lurched forwards, he made note to wish a farewell to the stars that had become a hated partner, and the planets that looked at him coldly in the distance. Plasma, dust, meteors, unknown flashes of light and junk highlighted his weeks, and now he was anxious to feel the rain, the breeze, the awe of a hero’s welcome. He’d done his job and was ready to be welcomed back and meet his new crew.
He had one final battle though; reentry and it was coming soon.
He began to speed up, advancing toward the atmosphere as though on a racetrack. Bracing himself, Frank 4000 took the hit and felt himself drag and slow, compressed air pushing against him as though trying to force him back out into the emptiness above. He pressed ahead, determined to complete his mission.
Then the heat hit.
Sharp, intense burning engulfed his face and licked at his sides. The immense warmth wrapped around his body in a fiery hug and in that moment, he felt the existence of Gods. It was as though Agni was cradling him in their hand.
After what felt like a new age, the aeroshells finally absorbed the hotness and his parachute deployed. Far below he began to make out the figures of his adoring audience. Hundreds of people crowded around his base, waiting to witness his expert landing.
Slowly, like a dance, he lowered himself onto the small podium. Smoke rushed up around him and he took a moment to feel victorious, like a singer stepping out on stage for an encore. It had only been a few months, so the world hadn’t changed much, but Frank knew that he had. He watched with satisfaction as the people rushed towards him, tools in hand.
He knew that he’d been away, but the faces did not seem to be that of much joy and instead, concern was painted upon them. Not quite the Champion’s greeting he had been hoping for, but he waited to see if things would improve.
Finally, the humans got his door open, and he felt exposed, relaxed, and free again.
This peace didn’t get chance to linger for long before he heard cries of horror as the emaciated and dehydrated bodies of his four crew members hung in their seats, and his adoring public began to scatter in despair.
