[ WP ] You 're a human scientist living on the moon . One day , while out in your spacesuit , you notice a small human child playing in the dirt . She 's not wearing a spacesuit , but she 's breathing just fine .

“ Good Morning Mr. Thomas. ” I am awakened by a computerized voice. 
 “ Good morning Martha. ” I say, groggily rolling out of my bed. 
 I begin my morning routine, which has become a regular habit of mine since coming here. Morning stretches to stay limber, full breakfast of eggs, bacon and bread, singing and dancing to classic rock as I jump into the shower, and finally last minute prep before going into a full day ’ s work with my research. 
 “ Martha, remind me again how long I ’ ve been up here? ” I gargle, still brushing my teeth. 
 “ The current log is 1416 days, 2 hours, 38 minutes, and 26 seconds, Mr. Thomas. ” 
 “ Great! ” I shoot a thumbs up to one of Martha ’ s camera ’ s before spitting out the last of the toothpaste. 
 “ Hey Martha dear, make sure that everything is running nice and smooth. Wouldn ’ t want the trip to get cut short. ” I tell her, despite knowing the inevitably of the ship ’ s end. 
 “ Of course Mr. Thomas. ” 
 The last part of my routine, which I forgot to mention. I pull out a little picture, on in which was me, a woman, and a little girl. My family. I smile, before tucking it into my jumpsuit pocket, ready to tackle the rest of the day. 
 “ Sample time, Sample time. My favorite time. ” I say out loud, climbing into my space suit. 
 I step into the airlock, something I ’ ve done hundreds of times before. It seals closed, the audible clicking still able to penetrate my helmet, before the lights switch off, covering the little room with a faint red glow. 
 “ Airlock 3A opening. Airlock 3A opening. Stand fast. ” Martha ’ s voice repeats into my helmet. 
 It finally opens, revealing the craggy lunarscape. I leap out, excitedly hopping over to my rover, which was already waiting for me. 
 “ Good morning Spike!! ” I greet the A.I. driven rover. 
 It blinks its headlights in response. 
 “ You ready to collect some useless rocks that won ’ t result in anything? ” 
 Again, his lights blink excitedly, his wheels moving in glee. 
 I hop in, Spike taking control, headed in the direction of the sight I had been working on for the last two years. 
 I took a moment to glimpse at Earth. Its water was consumed by a dark shade of red, many of its landforms were perpetually consumed in flames. Towards the south Pacific, a massive crater glares its ugly, smoldering head. Sigh. It was once so beautiful. 
 We reach the site, digging equipment already set up, the A.I. controlled by Martha already processing samples, ready for me examine them at that very moment. 
 “ Not enough. ” I mutter, observing tiny, glowing green spec. 
 It wasn ’ t enough. There wasn ’ t enough. It wasn ’ t pure enough, it wasn ’ t the right kind, so many problems. Another day ’ s work I guess. 
 I work for several hours, digging, processing, digging, processing, over and over and over. In the end I was only able to collect about half an ounce, a substantially small amount. 
 “ Whaddya think Spike? I should be done in another, two maybe three centuries? ” 
 He peeks his headlights down in sadness. 
 We drove back to the base, entering back through the airlock, I step into my laboratory, the sample ready to undergo further experimentation. Several hours pass, I finally fall into a deep sleep, still working on the samples. 
 The little girl, gigantic smile plastered on her face, ran ahead of us, chasing after Spike, our dog. The beautiful woman by side, lock her arm tightly around mind, radiant smile on her face. “ Martha, ” I whisper to her, drawing close to her lips, embracing in a kiss. 
 Suddenly, it appeared from the sky. A massive machine, it emits a beam that scorches the landscape before us, its fiery tendrils spreading across the countryside, consuming everything greedily. I rush forward, calling out the girl, who was already far ahead of us, before she turns back to me, smiling, as the fire engulfs her form, fading away into nothingness. 
 “ Mr. Thomas! The sample! ” I wake up in a flurry. 
 “ Shit! ” I cry out in shock. 
 The room was engulfed flames. Martha switches on the sprinkler, as I scramble to recover the sample. I tear the machine apart, pulling the container from it. No good. It was ruined. That was a half year of work. 
 I angry throw it against the wall, crumbling down into misery. 
 Several days passed. The machine was in shambles. There was no way now. All hope was lost. I broke out the celebration whiskey I was saving, drinking myself into a stupor. All of this bullshit was for nothing. 
 You know what? I ’ m gon na die anyway, might as well have a little fun doing it. Drinking another bottle, I hop into my space suit, heading out again into the craggy wasteland. 
 “ Mr. Thomas, I would advise against this, your oxygen supply is drawing low. ” 
 “ Don ’ t nag me like that Martha, live a little! ” I slur. 
 “ Hey Spike, wan na go play some golf with me? ” 
 He beams excitedly in response, driving up and down hastily. 
 “ Good boy! ” I pet him, before throwing the golf set I brought out into his compartment. 
 As usual, we drove down to the dig site, which overlooked a large valley. Taking my post, I began to drive golf balls, the landscape becoming littered with slowly falling white orbs. 
 Suddenly, out in the valley, was the little girl, completely uncovered, picking up the fallen balls. 
 “ Spike! Spike! Let ’ s go! ” 
 We reach her. She smiles a familiar smile, before running up to greet me. 
 “ Liz! Liz! Liz! ” I cry out, falling to my feet before her. 
 I caress her face affectionately through my cumbersome gauntlets. 
 “ Daddy! Where ’ s Spike? Where ’ s Mama? ” She asks candidly. 
 “ Spike ’ s right here baby girl! And mama ’ s back home, she ’ s waiting for us! ” 
 “ That ’ s not Spike, Daddy! ” 
 “ What? What are you talking about? Of course it ’ s Spike! ” and of course, you ’ re Little Liz. 
 No. That wasn ’ t right. A normal person can ’ t survive in a vacuum. But, I went with it, attributing it to the effects of whiskey in space, of which I wasn ’ t much of an expert on. 
 “ Can we go home Daddy? ” 
 “ Let ’ s go home baby. Home. ” 
 “ But, Daddy, home is over there! It ’ s gone Daddy! ” She points at the fiery planet. 
 “ We can live here! ” I plead. “ We got Mama, and Spike, and now you ’ re here too! ” 
 But, Daddy, Mama and Spike are dead. ” Her face grows cold and mature. 
 “ Wha..What are you talking about Liz, there righ… ” 
 “ And Daddy…I ’ m dead too. ” 
 “ What are you talking about? ” I delude myself, knowing full well the truth. 
 She sighs, apparently disappointed by my answer. 
 “ I can never understand the human insistence on self-delusion in the face of despair. ” 
 “ Who are you? Why do you look like Liz!! ” 
 “ The human mind sees us as it wants to. As to who we are, the answer is not simple. To insist on an identity is state we are one, which is both true and false. ” 
 “ You ’ re making any sense. ” I angrily throw down my golf club. 
 “ If I was to give you an answer, we are humanity. ” 
 “ Humanity? ” 
 “ Yes. Just thus. ” 
 “ Why are you here? ” 
 “ Observing your progress, especially given the hopeless situation you have been placed in. ” 
 

