the invitation

Log Entry: Cycle 88, Sol 5. Observatory.

Two days. For two days, we have floated in quiet emptiness. Just me and a ghost. The silence isn’t peaceful. It’s a tactic. A test of patience. And I’m failing it.

Instinct says to prod him. Ask. Fill the void. It’s my job. Isn’t it? It’s not a story if there are no words.

Move. I have to. Risk it. Push him? He’ll vanish. The trip’s a bust. Don’t? I’m just a tourist. Watching stars.

I can’t just ask why he’s so quiet. That’s what they would do. Categorize. Quantify. Diagnose. This is my chance to show him I’m not one of them.

My voice feels too loud. An intrusion. “I’m not here to write a profile piece.”

He doesn’t move. A statue against fusion and dust.

“I’m here because you did what I thought was impossible. You walked away from the noise. From the feeds, the chatter… all of it. I just need to know if it’s real.”

Silence. Heavier now. I’ve blown it. Stupid. Asked a ghost for a story… a story of a man who left his behind.

Then, he rotates. Slow. Zero-g. Looks at me, not through me. An assessment. A long moment. The same slow nod from day one, but this time, with a hint of a smile. Barely. An answer.

His hand raises. A gesture to the door. Unspoken. Clear. Follow me.

Alright. I’ll see where it goes.