Into the Unknown

I reclined in a chair on the back patio, staring out into the night sky and sipping on my hot chocolate. The fire pit crackled and spat next to me, but other than the small amount of light it gave off, my house's outer suburb locale meant light pollution was low enough to see plenty of white pinpricks speckling the black sky. It was a little chilly out, but I was dressed warm enough and preferred to work in the fresh air when I could.

This was merely a break, since I needed to do another ninety minutes of work to finish up my required 50-hour week. I glanced at my laptop, sitting closed on the chair next to me. Then I shook my head and looked back to the sky. Don't worry about it yet. Just do your best to take in the wonder of the infinite space above you. The work will wait. For truly the first time, I realized that my inner monologue always seemed to take on the voice of my grandfather, who'd died about 18 months ago. I suppose my subconscious stereotyped him for his tidbits of wisdom he had never seemed to run out of and decided it would be natural to hear things in his voice.

As I continued to look up at the stars, it felt like something inside me was drawing me towards them. Ever since witnessing a space shuttle launch from Cape Canaveral when I was little, I'd been fascinated by both them and by space. Over time it had kept me invested in technology and computers, led me to my degree in aerospace engineering, and thus set me down in the job I'd been working since graduation a year ago: Aerospace Research and Design Consulting. But over those many years, my own passions and desires to be an astronaut and travel to far away places had faded some. I still loved my sci-fi though.

That was until the last six months. After years of _being _the leading edge of both transportation and aerospace advancement, Elon Musk had finally done it. SpaceX had finally developed–and successfully tested– what Elon first called the FutureDrive. He also posted on twitter that he'd thought of calling it the MuskDrive, but didn't want to name it after himself. After public backlash from the general public and employees, he was convinced to change the name officially. And thus, he gave the world both the MuskDrive and significantly more cost-effective access to the planets, with a second edition in development to make it possible to go beyond the stars.

Regardless, this had reignited my passion to travel beyond earth, and every clear night I would sit on the back patio and wonder what I'd have to do to make that dream a reality. Plenty of new companies, as well as old ones, were branching towards space travel and building fleets to go to Mars. I was hoping through contacts I consulted with in my job, that I might be able to ask some questions. But my aerospace expertise was more of the atmospheric, airplane-like types.

Eventually I yawned, checked the time on my phone, and stretched. 10:04, yeah, should probably get back to work.

I reached over and grabbed my laptop. Setting it on my lap I opened it, entered the password, and checked to make sure it connected to the wi-fi. When it did, I dove back into my work.

Several minutes later the back door slid open. "Alright, Babe. I'm headed back to my apartment."

I glanced back over my shoulder to see my girlfriend walking towards me. "K-Kay. Good night." I frequently used K-Kay to acknowledge something she'd say, grouping the acknowledgement with just the first part of Kayla. Her light-ginger hair was still damp from the shower she'd just taken and she pulled some of it away as she leaned over me from behind, but some of it still brushed against my cheek.

"Good night," she said as she pressed her lips gently to mine. It didn't last long, but I sensed the slight hesitation as she pulled away. "See ya tomorrow."

The fire pit illuminated things enough to see her sky blue eyes even in the darkness. I adored those eyes. "See you tomorrow," I said, before ending it with "lady." Kayla had admitted to me early on in our relationship that one of her all time favorite movies was Lady and the Tramp. The next day at dinner she ordered pasta, and from that moment on, my nickname for her was "Lady."

I heard the sliding door shut and re-immersed myself in my work.