(written in 2019 senior fall of high school)
Without any adjacent object as reference frame, I cannot tell if we’re moving at all. The only sign of motion is our gigantic sail, blown to its full curvature by invisible radioactive particles. I’m currently standing at the end of the boat, enveloped by darkness and the celestial map of distant light. It still feels like the penetrating cold in my hibernation capsule even though I’ve been awake for days. We have not had any telegram from the party in a long time. I remained awake for several days after we received the party’s direction to start our hibernation process. The last bit of news I had received was the devastating discovery of the passing of our chairman. Unable to withstand the blow, I activated my hibernation capsule hoping to boil the sorrow into oblivion.
This is the first decade checkpoint. As the executive of Red Vessel, my capsule was programmed to wake me up every ten years to do vessel chores: check the trajectory, update the Party and clean the Chairman Mao statue on board. We are traveling to the terrestrial planet 50 light years away. Traveling at 20% the speed of light, this would take us 250 years. We departed right after the Cultural Revolution, a young band of youth selected from the Red Guards. We swore our allegiance to the party and our mission: To embark on this cosmic journey and spread the noble ideology of Communism to other pockets of the universe.
I cannot possibly graspe the greatness of Chairman Mao’s vision. He was beyond wise launching the Great Leap Forward and educating us in discarding Old Customs, Old Culture, Old Habits and Old Ideas. The Old Fours had to be forsaken to enter the world of neo-humanism: not humans of China nor humans of Earth but humans of the Universe. Burning books was the wisest method to prepare us for the journey — intellectualism isn’t needed here in space anymore — food is. We thank Chairman Mao for the rectification program — ”Down to the Countryside Movement” — of youth in learning how to farm like peasants. We now keep a miniature farm on board that would sustain us when we wake from hibernation.
Hail Chairman Mao also for his strategy of protecting us from the knowledge of the public. My comrades, students feverish with the ideas of a new China, new humankind — they could do anything. They would do anything and make anything happen. In some way, the blinded are often the bravest. They made it happen — interstellar spaceships and hibernation cells. Why? Not because they had intellect or curiosity or some other nonsense that the western media boasts, it was because they had faith — an unconditional frenetic faith of revolutionaries. I’m one of the few officials of the party that knew that my comrades had used Einstein’s theories of general relativity to devise the novel propulsion engine for the vessel. This is why we must remain a secret. Einstein with all his western theories are completely capitalistic. They would not go anywhere. The technology cannot end up in their hands. To keep our mission a complete secret, once we have been scheduled to leave, western intellectual books were burnt under the direction of Chairman Mao. He was afraid that the coming generation of Red Guards would publicize us as propaganda- the best way for Western countries to spy and steal this interstellar technology. Dear Chairman Mao… how my thoughts wander to him like I’m a lost child seeking his guidance! He was like a father constantly worrying for his children, always thinking centuries into the future and sheltering the party under his wings.
It has been a decade since we departed and since the death of our beloved Chairman. I’m the only one who ages on the vessel, my comrades being sound asleep in their hibernation capsules. I’m the only one who can contact the party. The crew is denied access to the news and media. The party censors in order to protect the faith of the crew. Oh how delicate a property faith is! Before my trip I had believed it to be rooted and scorched unto our minds- how could our faiths ever change? But here I am, even the thought of the sea or mountains triggers nostalgia and my faith wavers in the prospect of 240 years more of drifting through space. Enough chit chatting, back to the matter, my crew’s only source of information is me, the executive of the vessel. Thus I face the dilemma of whether I should wake them up to inform them of the passing of Chairman Mao. The decision of waking them up is partly selfish, however,because it allows me to share my grief. But perhaps we could honor the Chairman properly! By holding a memorial service right here on board. Upon second thought, I believe this party would advise against me waking up the crew. It would be what Chairman Mao wanted to see, us carrying the seed of Communism far and into the unknown. I must not think about myself. After all, this one-way trip to the nearest planet is a Service for the People. Nevertheless, my heart constantly settles on the prosperity of the party back on Earth. I worry about the prosperity of the party. How are they dealing with the Soviets and the Americans now? I think of our comrades on Earth and of our place in the universe. Are we still humans from Earth or if the unanswering darkness would penetrate us and fold us into another species? Afterall, no science had been done on that.
I recite my mission and words of Chairman Mao everyday since I’ve waked. Serve the people, serve the human. My only entertainment is to tell my story via this voice log. I will go into hibernation once again for a decade in a few days. Hopefully by then we would have some news from the party. I fear becoming living fossils of a forgotten past.
