It takes about seven months to reach Mars. Assuming that there would be no coming back because of logistical concerns, I would have to assume I was part of a third world space program. Perhaps North Korea.
For me to be a part of a slipshod program, I would have fallen victim to something insidious. Perhaps kidney thieves (who moonlight as astronauts) kidnapped me.
Maybe the whole plan was to take me along as an organ donor. Have you heard what kidneys go for on Phobos? Astronomical.
It’s not as if we were visiting the Oort cloud. Not returning from Mars is like stopping at Circle K and vanishing. Nothing good ever comes from those scenarios.
I wonder what my captors have in store for me. They must be my captors, because I would have chosen comrades who know how to return from such a short trip.
In this prison, I can only think about home. The room is cramped with a small window. All I can see is the black void.
Written in response to the Daily Post’s daily prompt.