Drifting in the Space of Ramblings

Ramblings About Offspring

I wake up in the morning and see Rachel sleeping beside me. We've been married for exactly five years, and I can't get tired of watching her sleep. I can stay like this for hours. She wakes up, slowly opens her eyes, and gives me a smile.

"Has she already woken up?"

"I have no idea what she's talking about."

Her face begins to fade away and give way to the countless stars in the black background that is the universe. I've already started daydreaming.

"It's not sleep or tiredness, but a side effect of despair. Despite floating in a vast space, I'm having claustrophobic spasms because of the suit. I feel cold for a few minutes and then feel hot and want to get naked. I try to keep myself under control, but it's getting harder and harder."

"Who has already woken up?" I reply. "What are you talking about?"

"Danika," she answers. "Our daughter?"

"Our daughter?"

"I don't have a daughter or a son or any kind of offspring. Everything I've done ends with me."

"Why does this bother me now?"

"Why bring a child into a world falling apart?"

"We place our unrealized dreams, our unconsumed desires, and our unattainable expectations on children who have nothing to do with all of this. We are monsters hidden in our children's closets."

"I try to return to the daydream without success. Rachel's face fades with the starlight, and I try to imagine why our daughter was named Danika. What would she be like?"

"A selfish feeling fills my chest, and I think I should have had a daughter, but I try to think of a logical reason for taking this step in my life, and nothing comes to mind. There is no reason."

"We are products of a depraved society with dreams that our parents cram into our brains. Not that I'm complaining. But I believe it's not very healthy for anyone to grow up like this, and maybe that's why we are so little susceptible to the frustrations of life. A child born in the early days of humanity had no choice; he had to be a hunter to feed his family, period, end of story. Too many options have spoiled how things should be."

"Are you feeling okay?" she asks, placing her hand on my forehead to check my temperature.

"Yes," I reply, holding her hand. "I just wish you would describe our daughter to me."

"Messy, playful, short black hair..."

"I can't hear you," I say, trying to pay attention to the dream.

"Organized, sulky, long blonde hair..."

"I'm losing focus; for a moment, I feel like I'm going to faint, but I suddenly wake up with adrenaline pumping because of a bright light coming from the space station in the distance... It blinks... Morse code... They're sending me a signal!"