It was 10:30 in the morning. The crew was sweating buckets, seeming even more nervous than takeoff. I gazed up into the window covering the roof, soaking in the amazing view of the universe. I sighed, knowing that this might be the last time I would see the Earth, as we may never return from our journey. I turned, about to walk out of the observation center, only to be met with a strong, hairy hand holding up a rather nasty-looking bucket of water with a ragged broom. Groaning, I held my hand out and winced as the putrid smell coming from the bucket filled my nose.
“What is the bucket of water for?” I asked Oz, the commanding leader of the ship, who had also just given me the supplies.
“It’s for reminding you, Elijah, to stop slacking and actually get to work,” he replied while walking to the radar, where our distance from Pluto is tracked.
Knowing I would be better off brooming the ship than talking to Commander Oz, I slipped out of the room, hoping that something important would happen in the next hour so I could avoid breaking my back brooming like our oldest member, Gerald, had two weeks ago. I paused, taking a breath or two as I put down my broom and bucket. Suddenly, a tremendous cheer, even louder than an airplane landing, went up. It was coming from the Weapon Deck. Not wanting to miss out on the fun, I ran there, forgetting my cleaning supplies in the main hallway. It turned out that all the excitement had been caused because we were only 50 meters away from Pluto, our destination.
“For once and for all, Oz actually looks happy,” one of the younger members whispered to me after glancing over his shoulder a few times to make sure Oz wasn’t listening. He realized his efforts were in vain as we noticed Oz walking toward where we were standing.
“Who looks happy?” Oz asked as he shot a cold glare in the direction of the person next to me.
“Oh nothing,” he quickly replied and ran to the radar, where he pretended to work.
“So,” Oz said, looking at me, “I need someone in charge of the spacewalk, and you seemed like the best option.”
As he spoke to me, I felt proud and nervous at the same time, as speaking with Oz is a rare occurrence, only reserved for the best crew members. But at that moment, I realized what he had just said. A spacewalk was one of the most dangerous and terrifying tasks anyone could be assigned to. You’re sent out to fix an antenna or something while only attached to a cord that could detach and send you flying out into space anytime. I wanted to refuse and walk out of his face, but what came out was something more like this:
“Umm…Yes? Umm…Sure?”
I know, I know, I am so dumb for saying yes, but what else could I do? No one dared to disagree with Oz, which he probably used to his advantage. I walked out, still frustrated for saying yes. But then I thought, maybe this would change the way the crew would look at me. Instead of laughing behind my back, they would respect me.
I walked out—confident and sure of my actions—and bravely went out into space.
“What is the bucket of water for?” I asked Oz, the commanding leader of the ship, who had also just given me the supplies.
“It’s for reminding you, Elijah, to stop slacking and actually get to work,” he replied while walking to the radar, where our distance from Pluto is tracked.
Knowing I would be better off brooming the ship than talking to Commander Oz, I slipped out of the room, hoping that something important would happen in the next hour so I could avoid breaking my back brooming like our oldest member, Gerald, had two weeks ago. I paused, taking a breath or two as I put down my broom and bucket. Suddenly, a tremendous cheer, even louder than an airplane landing, went up. It was coming from the Weapon Deck. Not wanting to miss out on the fun, I ran there, forgetting my cleaning supplies in the main hallway. It turned out that all the excitement had been caused because we were only 50 meters away from Pluto, our destination.
“For once and for all, Oz actually looks happy,” one of the younger members whispered to me after glancing over his shoulder a few times to make sure Oz wasn’t listening. He realized his efforts were in vain as we noticed Oz walking toward where we were standing.
“Who looks happy?” Oz asked as he shot a cold glare in the direction of the person next to me.
“Oh nothing,” he quickly replied and ran to the radar, where he pretended to work.
“So,” Oz said, looking at me, “I need someone in charge of the spacewalk, and you seemed like the best option.”
As he spoke to me, I felt proud and nervous at the same time, as speaking with Oz is a rare occurrence, only reserved for the best crew members. But at that moment, I realized what he had just said. A spacewalk was one of the most dangerous and terrifying tasks anyone could be assigned to. You’re sent out to fix an antenna or something while only attached to a cord that could detach and send you flying out into space anytime. I wanted to refuse and walk out of his face, but what came out was something more like this:
“Umm…Yes? Umm…Sure?”
I know, I know, I am so dumb for saying yes, but what else could I do? No one dared to disagree with Oz, which he probably used to his advantage. I walked out, still frustrated for saying yes. But then I thought, maybe this would change the way the crew would look at me. Instead of laughing behind my back, they would respect me.
I walked out—confident and sure of my actions—and bravely went out into space.
