I don't know how long I've been stuck in this space station all by myself, and honestly, a part of me doesn't want to know. The loneliness feels bad enough on its own, it really doesn't need a timeline attached to it.
How I ended up alone is still a big mystery to me. One day everything was running its normal course, and when I woke up the next, the other astronauts were gone. Their personal belongings were left behind, otherwise I might have started to believe they had never been there to begin with by now. So I have at least some of my sanity left, and I look forward to losing that too.
The negative spiral better known as my thinking patterns occupies me so much, I almost missed it. I do a double take, and it takes my heart a good while to jump up. My eyes can't quite believe it, but there is definitely a little light flickering in the distance, surrounded by the nothingness I have been staring at for days on end now.
I get in action as quickly as the realisation sinks in. There is one shuttle left, as the other one disappeared with my fellow astronauts. It wasn't built to transport me back to Earth (hence me being stuck here), but I'm willing to bet my life on the fact that it will be able to take me to the blinking light. After all, I can't keep living here forever.
After checking the shuttle one last time, it's ready for take-off. The tension in my stomach builds as the distance between me and the station grows. It's a big risk I'm taking, as I don't know what awaits me when I reach the light. I could be horribly wrong in thinking it's a signal, or even if I'm right about that, signals aren't always meant to be friendly.
I repeatedly tell myself I can't think like that; ignoring even the tiniest sliver of hope sure isn't good for my sanity. And so I lock my sights onto the little beacon in the distance, not allowing myself any distractions.
The distance is bridged so painfully slow, the despair starts sinking in once again. Then, finally, I can see where the light originates from. It is, in fact, a signal, as it steadily blinks from behind the glass of another space station. I don't recognize the logo on the side of it, which puzzles me at first. There is no way this space station originated from Earth, otherwise it would have been easily recognisable. The only other option... But that can't be either, my colleagues and I had been sent out here to look for life elsewhere in the universe, akin to humankind, and after all this time we still came up empty.
Whoever is in that station must have noticed my arrival, since an entrance on the side opened to let my shuttle pass. As soon as I'm docked and leaving the shuttle, everything starts to happen quickly. A dark fabric is quickly pulled over my head before I even get the chance to see more than silhouettes, and strong hands pull me away from my only escape route.
A few minutes later, I get thrown into a chair and the fabric is finally removed from my head. I'm sitting in what appears to be a cell, a small room with bare walls. If I have to guess, I would say the fabric was meant to keep me from seeing the way to my shuttle, or even to prevent me from discovering their technology. They clearly didn't care whether I saw them or not, because six of them are now crowding around me.
And by them, I mean the aliens. Think in stereotypes for this one: they have green skin, large eyes, and they speak to each other in sounds that don't sound human in the slightest. As one of them turns towards me and addresses me, I realise to my astonishment that they must have found a way to learn English. Which means that they not only observed us, but have managed to stay hidden for the entire duration.
Unfortunately, that isn't the last surprise I have to endure, as the alien says to me: "We were already wondering when you would show up. Your colleagues didn't leave us waiting this long."
Seeing the understanding dawn on my face, they continue. "Indeed, we lured them here as we lured you here. It's a little beacon we invented, when one's gaze falls upon it, one can't help but follow the path it leads. But that, of course, is of no importance to you, so let's just skip to the reason you're here. Ever since we discovered your existence, humankind has fascinated us. We observed your behaviour, your culture and your society. But we also noticed how your bodies seemed to work so very different to ours. After much debate, we decided it was in science's best interest to take the humans they send out into space, and perform vivisections on them."
The aliens all look at me expectantly, as if they all agreed there was only one way to take this news: with calm acceptance. It was for science, after all.
That is not my instinct, however, and so I make a desperate attempt at getting away. The last words I hear before the sedative they inject me with begins to work, are: "Our sincerest apologies, human, we just thought it rude not to let you know in advance."
