The Space Farer's Lament

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Dear Susannah

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What do I miss most? The list starts and ends with you. Nothing else matters. Not part of the mission plan, as they say around here. I am on this mission for reasons I’ve not divulged to anyone. In the hope that I may find you Out Here somewhere. A fanciful notion I know and one that would have got me scrubbed from this flight if I’d ever mentioned it, especially to the mission psychologists who, true to type, were the most screwed up of individuals (“It’s ok to be neurotic, paranoid and defensive – we all are”). But if Galileo is here (his revenant self at least), why can’t you be? There are plenty of ghosts on this mission; the ship is filling up with them. Who’d notice one more? We’re all here for reasons both professional and private. That much is tacitly acknowledged. In this respect, I don’t suppose we’re different from the crew of any other ship. Everyone has their own agenda, as always. You are the only item on mine. 

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The ship’s pharmacy has what the mission medics describe as certain compensations for the restrictions imposed on us by the journey. I for one have not used them. What was that wonderful expression you used once in reference to similar compensations: “Like eating chocolate with the wrapper on.” Creams and oils, and various visual excitements. It all has the whiff of something slightly sleazy and back-street to it. And I can’t keep a straight face when I think about it. Neither one of us could in our more intimate moments; but that was different – the humour that should accompany such intimacy.

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How alone I feel now. A solitary atom rattling around inside the great empty conch of the universe. How happy I would be for just a glimpse of you (no more than a throw-away glance, a teasing look cast back over your shoulder) in the long corridors that make up much of Galileo’s interior. A maze I roam with no hope of escape.

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See also: https://www.facebook.com/thescreamingplanet