He secures his helmet and double checks his gauges before depressurizing the airlock. In a matter of seconds, the entire world around him seems to come to a standstill. The violent sounds of the shift to vacuum give way to a few muddled thuds and creaks before disappearing entirely. The lone astronaut swallows, trying to hold back his rising anxiety, and takes his first cautious step onto the barren planet. He turns in time to see the outer-bay door closing lazily, and gives the hull a few gentle pats, as if a cowboy comforting his dying horse.

The planet offers little comfort, but amends with its eerie beauty. Its almost non-existent atmosphere allowing a picturesque view of the neighboring gas giant. A sea of harsh, blue sand stretches in all directions, giving way to sharp, mountainous spires and the occasional crater. The astronaut musters all his resolve and with a deep breath sets forth, stealing a final glance at his ship.

The landscape seems more and more bleak with every step he takes. His breathing labored by the effort of trudging through the glass-like sand, coupled with the high gravity. Time seems to have no place on this planet. With the absence of a stable atmosphere, there is no wind. Every footprint he sculpts with his journey lay perfectly untouched, like notches on a metaphorical timeline—his timeline. Still, he carries on, unsure of the reason. The only thing grounding him to reality is the familiar beep of his oxygen gauge. The pitch, slightly higher now that he’s reached 50%.

He’s been walking for what seemed like a lifetime. The once comforting tone of his oxygen gauge now screaming at him, desperately trying to warn him of his <5% breathable air remaining. Succumbing to the fatigue, he finally collapses to the ground. With the last of his strength, he rolls himself onto his back, gasping in as much air as possible. The system’s star, now brimming over the horizon, casts its gaze across the sea of blue, causing the expanse to glimmer like the oceans of his homeworld. The razor-sharp spires reach upward, desperately trying to pierce the gas giant above.

Seconds pass like hours, and minutes like days. The lone spaceman lay there, relaxed. The high-pitched tone of his oxygen gauge drowned out by the sheer serenity of his resting place. He smiles and pauses a moment to take in the beauty of the planet, his planet. Whispering a final thank you to his ship, the spaceman, comfortable with his fate, disengages the seal on his helmet.