[ WP ] You 're an astronaut who volunteered to take the first manned solo mission to explore regions past our solar system . You 've been alone for decades ... until you stumble upon a derelict ship that looks exactly like yours .

I think about us sometimes, you know? 
 
 Us, mankind, humanity. Whatever. What happened to us? I remember that day 30 years ago when I had left Earth with great pompous and fanfare. A hero they had called me, a pioneer. Hell, *I* had thought I was a hero. I actually laughed, out loud at that, interrupting for once the dull hum of the spaceship as it hurtled through space ( Though the laugh was more of a dry heaving ). Oh man. I had actually thought I would be advancing mankind's future. I had grand fantasies about meeting an alien race. Equally exciting to me were the prospects of being a God to them, or being interrogated or kept in a zoo. All in the name of us. Mankind. 
 
 I had kept that perspective for the first two thousand years or so. Well 2 thousand for Earth that is. Travelling at 99.999 % the speed of light had side effects of course, time slowed down for you. So much so for me that, 10 years for me was about 2000 for Earth. So when I finally realized what a fool I had been, I decided I wanted to turn the ship around. I had seen pretty sights, collected invaluable data, and transmitted it faithfully back to Earth, despite it being a one way communications system, but there was no meaning to it all. Nothing grand, nothing that would happen to a hero. 
 
 And we were nowhere to be found. Even on my return trip I noticed no signs of us. It was as if they were gone. Lost in the vastness of space. I knew somewhere in the back of my mind, that even if we had spread to other planets, the odds of us meeting was next to nil, especially considering the limited communications system. 
 
 `` We are approaching system Sol, reducing speed to sub-light'' chirped smooth feminine voice of the computer. The computer spoke very rarely recently, as nothing of any import happened. The voice took me off guard, and reminded of another. It reminded me of her laugh, her feel, her hai-. No. I stopped myself immediately. I used to think about the mission, I used to think about me, I think about mankind, and the future. But never her. I fear if I do, I may lose the little sanity I have left. 
 
 I focused at the task at hand. I pulled up the external camera and watched as the faint dot at the horizon got brighter and brighter. The Sun. I had expected to feel some sort of familiarity, but there was none it looked just like the thousands of oth-'' 
 
 `` Proximity alert. Another vessel detected. Reversing Thrust.'' We were somewhere near the orbit of Mars, though Mars itself was currently on the other side of the sun. I felt the sudden jolt of sharp deceleration as the ship slowed to a halt. I checked the computers. My mind refocusing for the first time in years, now that there was actually something to do. 
 
 I focused the camera on the ship. It was scorched, and dented in several places. But remarkably intact. And it looked exactly like mine. The serial number in stark white could still be made out, even through the camera. 
 
 `` The serial number matches none in records.'' Curious. It must have been made after my departure, though it was obviously of the same series as mine. 
 
 `` No life signs detected on board. Though there is some limited electrical power,'' remarked the computer. 
 
 `` Dock with the ship computer,'' my voice light from ill use, barely a whisper. 
 
 The computer obliged. I could feel the thrusters maneuvering as the ship moved to dock. 
 
 I felt a chill. After so many years. Finally I was going to have some interaction. It did n't even matter if any humans were aboard or not. I just needed a sign that we had existed in the first place. 
 
 `` Docking complete. Please exit out Door A to board the ship. Oxygen levels stable.'' 
 
 And with great trepidation and excitement I stepped onto the other ship. As I did, faint blue lights turned on. It was a surreal experience. I had walked though my ship into one that was virtually identical. I had even come in through what would be Door A. 
 
 The Computer in front of me blared to life. 
 
 I stumbled back, startled. But there was no program or AI running. Just a slideshow. It first showed a beautiful impossibly complex city. Impossible structures dominated the skyline. Several others followed. New York, Syndey, Mumbai, Paris. 
 
 And then other pictures followed. The same cities, in ruins. Structures fallen, bridges decaying. Ground smoldering. I stood there, transfixed in horror and a sick curiosity. 
 
 But then the pictures faded. And the word hope passed by in about 20 different languages. 
 
 The screen went blank. And then numbers flared to life. I recognized immediately them as stellar co-ordinates. 
 
 It was an address.
