[ WP ] The death penalty has been replaced by a one way trip to Mars .

`` I sentence you to death!'' intoned the Judge. You balk at hearing this, a coldness settles in the pit of your stomach. 
 
 Several members of the jury gasp. A shocked silence envelopes the Court Room. The clerk clears his throat, which sounds louder than it should in the void of sound. He approaches the bench, each step echoing, leans over, and whispers something in the Judge's ear. 
 
 You do n't catch what he says. You just know that it ca n't be good. Anyway, did n't they remove the death sentence? You are quite sure they ca n't sentence you to death. 
 
 `` It appears I ca n't sentence you to death,'' the judge says. Almost as if reading your mind. His voice level and toneless. You are quite sure it would sound the same if he was telling you he'd won the lottery. 
 
 A brief respite then, you feel relieved for a moment. It does n't last long. 
 
 `` No, the death sentence has been replaced by something else,'' that same voice says. A Pause for effect, for drama. you always hated when they did this on quiz shows. What is the answer? Do n't keep me in the dark. 
 
 `` The replacement sentence is a one way trip to mars,'' says the Judge. He looks at you briefly, then back down at his desk, as if searching for the reason for the sentence. He wo n't find it there. 
 
 You run this through your head. So you do n't die, you just ca n't come back. It's as good as dying but somehow you grasp the chance of life even knowing this. Maybe you will find a way back to earth one day? 
 
 Suddenly the court grows louder again, almost as if you had lost your hearing temporarily and just now it faded back in. 
 
 You are guided out of the Court Room, back into your holding cell. You run the idea through your head. Over, and over. This seems like a better fate than death you tell yourself. What's the catch? 
 
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 You are being marched down a hall way, towards another cell. When do you get to go to Mars? No one has told you anything, you've just been kept in one cell after another. How long has it been since your sentence? Weeks certainly, maybe even a month or two. 
 
 The guards push you in roughly, they are deaf to your questions. They lock the door behind them. You hear their footsteps getting quieter as they walk back down the hall. 
 
 You pace around the room, your only company a mirror on the wall, the harsh light above you, and a door that lets no light in. 
 
 You stare at the mirror for a minute or two, you are not looking well. The stress, the uncertainty. These have taken a toll on you. You need a shave, you need a hair cut. You need a lawyer. 
 
 `` The time for lawyers has passed,'' they say whenever you requested one. You had your case in court, so maybe it has. 
 
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 More time has passed, still no change in your circumstances. Same room, same mirror, same light. They feed you once through a flap in the door. You have been in this room for a few hours now, at a guess. 
 
 Suddenly, you notice a change. A change is welcome at this point. 
 
 The floor is moving. 
 
 Then it dawns on you, the floor will keep on moving until there is no floor, then no you. 
 
 You bang on the door. The floor keeps moving. Not quickly, not slowly. The floor moves in the way of an escalator, no hurry. Inexorable, uncaring. 
 
 More banging on the door. You realise the futility of this. But what else do you have? What else can you do? 
 
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 Next door in the Film Studio, Tracy has failed to solve the puzzle. The game is lost. 
 
 The audience looks on as the last of the floor vanishes, then the poor soul in the room falls to his doom, screaming. 
 
 `` How does it feel Tracy? You were doing so well!'' the gameshow host says excitedly. `` I really thought you would solve the puzzle in time!'' 
 
 `` Well Bradley, I tried my best. I had a lot of fun being here today,'' says Tracy. 
 
 The audience clap and cheer. 
 
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 You scream. The hole in the floor swallows you completely. How deep does this go? You seem to be gaining speed with no end in sight. 
 
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 `` Well, I hope he enjoyed his one way trip to Mars.'' said the Director. 
 
 The other people in the darkened room on the other side of the mirror nodded, some general grunts of agreement. 
 
 `` Budget cuts, one way trips to Mars are n't cheap,'' the Director adds. 
 
 No one in the room really expected them to spend that kind of money. No one wanted to be the one to pull the trigger either to kill the man. This was the perfect compromise.
