Floating through the vast void of emptiness known as space with the charred remains of a motor hooked onto the back of your ship with ruined wires that somehow managed to hold on even though said motor violently exploded isn't my definition of fun. It's lonely, dark, scary, and even depressing at times. However, even with all these horrible words I just provided to describe it, no words can describe how beautiful it is. Outside my window is a vast array of galaxies, all of which dot the "skies" like stars do back on Earth. Each of these galaxies containing millions or even trillions of stars much like ours, some with planets like ours, and hell, maybe some with civilizations and people like ours. Maybe, hopefully, one day I will find one. Even better, I'll find ours. But as of now, I am in the middle of nowhere, with nowhere to go, all alone. If I could just have one person, just one to talk to, I would be content. I know they sent eight of us with these same motors into the skies, maybe theirs had blown as well, and they were in the same situation I was.
I knew that radio waves traveled incredibly far distances in incredibly short times, especially in space. I also knew that I had a radio implemented into this craft, as did everyone else. Speaking of knowing, the travel has seemed to erase a lot of what I knew about my previous life; suddenly, I can't remember the name of my mother. I can't remember my family at all. Did I have a mother? I don't know, I don't even know my own name. That's really messing with me, and I just need to get it off my mind. Pressing the blinking red button on the radio that allowed me to call out, I spoke. "Hey, is anyone out there? My motor exploded, I'm stuck somewhere and I don't know where, at all- I can't remember my own name, nothing's gone right, I feel so alone. Please, if you hear me, just respond." I kept my finger on the button, which maintained a continuous blank message. After about thirty minutes, I began to lose hope. An hour after, I was crying. An hour and a half later, I opened my mouth to scream.
But it wasn't my voice I heard.
It was instead the voice of a girl. One that sounded quiet but confident, brave but concerned. "Hello? I got your message, sir, and I can't remember anything about me either. My ship number is six though, what is yours?" Perking up, I immediately pressed the button. "Oh, I am ship number five. Heh, five and six, we're in order. All we need is a four, huh?" I knew we were on the same channel, so responses would come way quicker. A few minutes later, the same voice. "Yeah, that's true. Hey, you know we have pictures of the pilots under the seat? You're five, huh? I was thinking that since none of us remember our names, that we could assign some. In your picture you have a shirt that says 'Seattle' on it, I think I'm gonna call you Seattle. How does that sound?" I looked under my seat, at the photos of each of the eight pilots. I saw number six, which was the girl I was speaking to. She was pretty, but obviously quite small, around 5'2. I was trying to think of names for her. 'Shorty' came to mind, but that would be too insulting. However, I did notice something unique - where her hair parted on the top of her head, she had two cowlicks, that almost looked like devil horns.
I pressed the button again. "Seattle? Sounds like a nice name. I saw your picture, you're quite pretty I must say. But I saw your hair, and how you have those cowlicks on your head. They look like devil horns, so I was thinking your name could be 'Satan'. What do you think?" I laughed at my own joke, what a loser thing to do. The returned message had her laughing before finally accepting the name. I put Satan's picture in the flaps on the visor, so it acted as a frame of sorts. I'd imagine she was probably doing the same thing to mine as well, considering the fact that that picture was the only thing we had of each other. Again, her voice echoed through the cabin. "So, what's the closest thing to you out where you are? For me, it's a big blue, cloudy galaxy, with a purple glow coming from the center. It looks like...a ring. It's an almost perfect ring. What about you?" I looked out of my window, hoping to see what she described. "I see a big, swirly galaxy with lots and lots of stars. It's blue, purple, white, silver, and grey. It's got a white center, and it looks like a- woah, wait a minute, just beyond mine, I see something like what you described, a ring with a purple center, right? I see one just like that, could it be you?" Doubtfully, however possibly, it could be what Satan was seeing. We did take off in kinda the same direction, and we did all have the same engines and motors and everything.
"It could be me, who knows? Space is infinite, and we left the observable universe. Maybe if it is us, we can get together, maybe name all the galaxies here, and hell, maybe we'll find someone else after that...or maybe I'm just thinking hopefully, it'd be like finding a needle in an infinitely large haystack. But it's still possible, don't you think?" I didn't want to respond honestly. This girl sounded incredibly positive, and optimistic. I didn't want to ruin her mood, and optimism seems like a good thing to have in this type of situation. It provides motivation to actually continue on with your journey, no matter how bleak it looks. And for me, well, it looks incredibly bleak. "Yeah, sure." Putting on a mock-optimist tone, I responded to her. It was obviously fake, but somehow she didn't see through it. Hopefully she wasn't stupid- wait, she couldn't be stupid, why would they send stupid people rocketing into outer space? I looked back under the seat, where the photos were, and below that was a reports on each pilot. Things they liked, things they did, etcetera. I read through six's- I mean Satan's, and it stated a few minor details on things she liked, how she acted, and gave a few notable traits.
According to the paper, Satan refused to wear the normal uniforms, due to the fact that she didn't like pants. Interesting. It also said that she was strangely happy and cheerful, even during pain tests. Her failed tests included tone reading, reflexes, and essay-writing. Holding the papers, I went back to the radio. "Heh, says here you don't like wearing pants. Did they send you up in your undies or something?" I said to her. Then, I forgot that she fails at reading tones. Preparing for a shit storm, I held the button down on the radio. "No, they didn't send me in my underwear. I don't have underwear! I made them make a dress because I don't like wearing things in between my legs. It feels weird. Hey, how'd you know I don't like wearing pants?" Immediately, I realized that this girl was open as well, even though it never listed that as a notable trait. I also noticed that she had not found the papers, either. "Check under your seat, where you found those photos. There should be some papers, and there should be one about me. Though, for some reason, they don't have our names. Which stinks, so I guess we should stick with Seattle and Satan." Within a few minutes, which I assume she spent reading through the documents, she radioed me again. "Someone wants to see people's privates. 'Fascination with anatomy'? Ha!" Looks like she misrepresented that. "Only if you can find me, you weirdo!" Again, her cheery tone is somehow getting to me. "No, I just studied the body..." I said this in a down tone again, and my words dragged out.
After a few minutes without a response, I assumed she had gone to do something really quick. When she was gone, I searched through the manual to see if there was some way to track where the signal was coming from. I knew it could be tracked, but it said just about nothing on the radio because that was a last-minute add-on. Of course.