Only one question left. One question, and youâll achieve your wildest dreams. The dream youâve wanted for twenty years.
You looked down at the application, trying to curb your excitement.
âQ: What makes you eligible for the NASA space program?¨
Oh boy. You donât have anything specific to share that would make you âeligibleâ for it, per say. Well, you have one story. It was a pretty long time ago, though. Not to mention that it would sound insane to anyone whoâs even remotely grounded in reality. You try to find anything else that you could answer this question with, such as your actual credentials. You come up short.
Oh well. Youâve nothing left to lose. You pick up the pen and start writing.
á°.á đ¸ ŕË. áľáľ
In the dead of night (or, what you hoped was dead of night,) you gathered your belongings on your fatherâs small living room floor. A flashlight, a walking stick, a bag of trail mix, and your helpful guide, B. Manâs Book of Deserted History. It's a big mission. One that, in all honesty, youâre not sure youâre ready for. Youâre not sure anyoneâs ready for it.
You grab the ripped newspaper clipping from the end table. On it, reads:
 US SCARE ATTEMPT OR ROBOT GONE ROUGE?
Plane Driven By Artificial Intelligence Still Missing After Two Months
Yesterday, President Rotwright confirmed again for the uptteenth time that Courtship-17 is, in fact, still missing.. Authorities in the Dexter area, where the aircraft was last spotted, report that noâŚ
You shove it in your backpack, unamused. Dexter is a little under 30 minutes outside of Roswell, meaning that most of the government officials looking for Courtship-17 are looking there. The AARO spent a little less than 18 hours here before packing their bags for a tourist attraction. But you know better. You know itâs in this town somewhere. You grab your dadâs keys off the kitchen counter and bolt out the door, excited to make your discovery.
After a few minutes of driving, however, you came up short. It turns out you were wrong. You park on the side of an isolated road, the moon shining off the sand and rubble. Your mindâs racing. Maybe it did land in Roswell? You donât see why it wouldnât have been discovered by now if it were. But maybe itâs hidden somewhere? Do AIs know where to hide? Or how? Did it hate its creators?
You exhale sharply and grip the steering wheel, then check the time on the dashboard. 2:32 AM. Youâre out way later than you need to be. Placing the key into the ignition, you rush to dig your map out from the backseat. You try to find your place on the map by dragging your finger from home to the highway youâre on. But you canât find it. According to the map, it doesnât exist. You quickly start to panic, frantically turning the map and looking over it again. To no avail.
Desperately, you start the car and hit the gas, continuing down the road. You donât know where youâre headed. Your vision becomes blurry and blurrier, until you canât see much of anything. You press your foot down on the gas pedal. Suddenly, you hear a loud crack, and the car stops. Shaking, you slowly step out of the car. You were already lost. The last thing you need now is a breakdown in the middle of nowhere.
You notice the trail first. The trail of slime. It starts from the front left wheel and goes who knows where. You look under the car, only to find darkness. Darkness, and a pair of eyes staring back at you. You--you and that âŚthing-- stared at each other for what felt like hours. You donât know what it is. Still donât, honestly. But there it was. You backed up slowly, and a gloved hand popped out from under the car. Then a hairy spider leg. Only, it wasnât. It was too big, about the size of a human. You ran away from the car in horror as it started lifting off the ground.
Out came⌠you still don't know what it is. A spider. A man. A spiderman.. In a banana suit. You went from horrified to confused. As it started working towards you, you walked towards it. It felt like gravity. It felt warm and nostalgic. It felt like you were coming home. You didnât know where these feelings were coming from. Right when you were about to collide with it, your vision went black.
When you came to, you were at home, staring at the television in the darkness. The time? 3:17 A.M. A man in a yellow tux is hosting Haunted Horrors. You stared down at your hands. You were holding a half-eaten banana, only it had hair--human hair--all over it. Your mouth felt gross. Youâve never felt so lost and confused in your life. The audience on screen starts howling with laughter.
You stayed home from school that day.
