You stand on the orange-brown sand and dirt, taking in the hills and vistas. In the distance you can see Olympus Mons, but then it is the largest volcano in the entire solar system, so it’s pretty difficult to miss. The hazy whitish sky is hard to accept if you’re used to the clear and beautiful Earth. Looks like there’s been a planet wide fire, and you almost think you could smell the smoke if you were breathing the air. But you’re not, because you can’t. Because it’d kill you. You have a helmet and suit on, protecting you from the minus 81 degrees Fahrenheit, and the whole lacking of breathable oxygen and atmosphere. Yeah, you haven’t really chosen that auspicious a date to come to Mars. The year is 2019. Not the distant future, when this harsh planet has been fully inhabited. It is currently occupied by a bunch of operational and non operational robots. And yet before you is a lander. A very special lander. InSight. Right now it’s digging deep beneath the ground, going five meters down. The deepest anything has ever been on a planet other than the Earth. In just a few moments it’s going to find something and bring up a sample to study it. Irrefutable proof of alien microbial life. Doesn’t mean that much on a galactic scale, but to you it means something big: a fact that there are things in the galaxy other than humans. These particular ones haven’t lived for millions of years, possibly billions, but at one time they did. Confirming, without a doubt, that life in this universe is not confined to the blue and beautiful third rock from the sun. #thoughtfulthursday
You step through the open doorway and enter the mead hall. You should be confused, perhaps shocked, but you are not. This is exactly where you expect to be. You made sure, clad in the same clothing as everyone else here. But it’s not all quite as you expected. The benches at either side of the long tables are full of people, but this hall of warriors is not just filled with men, but almost half are women, similarly garbed. They all bear weapons: mighty swords and heavy axes and intimidating spears. And they’re all . . . having a great time. There is talking and laughing and even singing. You can’t help but smile. It’s just like you imagined it. Better in fact, because it’s not a bunch of dudes with scantily clad women serving them mead from drinking horns, however, there are plenty of horns being passed around. Everyone’s just . . . helping everyone else. It’s just a great party and feast being had by everybody. At the end of one of the tables sits a man whose arms are weighted with rings. A man of fame and prowess. This must be Hrothgar. So that means, the other guy must be . . . ah, there he is. His hair is a little darker, his build bigger than those sitting beside him. He carries himself with confidence. This must be the mighty Geat, Beowulf. You join the nearest table and are welcome, drinking and eating like everywhere else, but making sure you don’t get too drunk. Time passes and soon people start drifting off to sleep and eventually its just you and Beowulf left awake. He is resting, but you know he is still ready for what’s about to happen. You are also. The roar comes from outside and then the door is ripped open and in steps the biggest, hairiest monster you’ve ever seen. As you leap back for the Ostium door, you realize you’ve pissed yourself. You know Beowulf will defeat Grendel, but it’s all just too damn terrifying. You flee like a frightened child. #thoughtfulthursday
You’re not sure why you’ve chosen this door. Maybe it has something to do with when you were a kid, or a teenager. All the video games? All the R-rated movies? The books on the subject you could never seem to get enough of. Fortunately, because you were a kid, it was almost expected that you would have this sort of interest, what with how media continued to portray it for the entertainment of the masses. But thinking back now, you were definitely a little obsessed with it all. Makes sense then that your first door should be this strange and horrific thing. You didn’t get any comment or question from the Ostium Network, which also comes as no surprise, since they know everything about you. You reach out, pull on the handle and step through into a world that has suffered the effects and consequences of nuclear war. There’s no sun. The sky is a bruised grayish blue of overcast that feels like an impending crust around the globe; whether it will ever be broken apart remains to be seen. Buildings are in ruins; hulks of vehicles of all shapes and sizes strewn along the roads and streets in haphazard ways, looking like complete dinosaur fossils waiting for the archaeologists of the future to come and excavate and critique the way this world was. And then you see the bodies. Some in pieces. Some whole and bloated. Men, women and children. Nuclear war isn’t racist or sexist or classist. It isn’t discriminatory. It kills everyone and everything alike, leaving the rotting remains for anyone left alive to see. This is not what you had in mind. This is not what you signed up for. Feeling your gorge rise, your mouth fills with bile. “Fuck this!” you say, as you quickly step back through the door to Ostium. #thoughtfulthursday
