It’s Upon Us
It's peaceful up here, at the very least.
Watching networks of stars drift past an infinite void, finding new solar systems and new star formations never before charted with each thousand-mile stretch this old clunker of a ship passes. At the very least, it's relaxing.
I can't say much else about it.
It almost drives me crazy, sometimes, the silence of it all. I'll knock some equipment over or slam the doors or start talking to nobody just to hear something. Otherwise, I'll start to feel this pressure building in my head, it feels like all of space is closing in on me, the tiny hull of the ship starts to feel more like a casket than humanity's last hope. There are cameras in here, somewhere, used to monitor my progress. Before, I used to wonder what the people back home would think of me, knocking things around, talking to myself - but it's hard to think that any of them are real anymore.
Three years I've been stuck in this trashcan. Three years - by all accounts, that's nothing compared to voyages from the past - and I can't take it anymore.
There's a pipe that cuts through my broom closet bedroom and it always whistles. I've tried to fix it, seven times at least, but each time the whistling comes back. The worst part is, if I concentrate, I can hear it from every part of the ship.
Sometimes, I'll come to and I'll be standing, facing a wall, muttering words I don't remember. I'll check the clock embedded on the ship's dash, just past the autopilot-locked controls, and hours have passed. I won't remember what I was doing before I lost track of time. I don't know if I should be concerned.
It's not the weirdest thing to happen, all things considered. Lapses of memory can be common in those who have endured space travel for an extended period of time, but - this feels different, somehow. That pressure in my head comes back, when it happens. It almost feels like my head's going to fold in, like an aluminum can in an airtight vacuum. Just when it feels like it's too much, it'll dissipate all at once.
It just happened again today.
I came to, facing the wall, holding a wrench flaked with rust and covered in... blood, that was definitely blood. This time, I caught the words coming out of my mouth.
"It's upon us."
I didn't know what it meant - didn't want to know what it meant, but... I walked slowly to the windshield in front of the controls, gazing out at the massive expanse of space.
It's peaceful up here, at the very least.
Until the massive silhouette of something unknowable slowly crawls up from underneath the ship, blotting out all the stars until the only thing left around me was a pitch black void. Slowly, slowly, two massive eyes pull themselves open, focusing on me.
I was never an astronaut, I was a sacrifice.
"It's upon us," my mind whispers.
