Marooned on a hostile planet
"Tucson" is an ancient word meaning "Tattooine"
“Ellen. Prepare to open the seal. I’m heading out.”
“In this? Mission Control says this is the hottest summer in 100,000-years.”
“And next year it will be the hottest summer in one hundred thousand and one-years. I got to do this. Life must go on.”
“Copy that. Sigh. You have a go for egress.”
“Roger.”
“Cabin conditioning now. Destination?”
“Mailbox.”
“You know we agreed to restrict movement only to those destinations essential to survival. Excursion denied.”
“Copy that. Request exception. Amazon delivery. From satellite hub.”
“Amazon. I saw the vehicle dock with our mailbox earlier. Permission granted. Egress check.”
“Egress check.”
“Wide-brimmed hat.”
“Wide-brimmed hat. Check.”
“Sunscreen.”
“Check. Slathered.”
“Shoes. Sunglasses. Water.”
“Check. Check. And check.”
“And final review. Again, what is your mission? What are you venturing out into heat dome for?”
“I forgot. Remind.”
“Amazon delivery. From satellite hub.”
“Thanks. Affirmative.”
“A book?”
“Affirmative. It’s about coping with the stress of living on a hostile planet and making the best of being trapped inside an artificial environment.”
“Author?”
“Frank Hankster. The man who thought he was a hamster. The guy who lived inside a homemade habitrail environment for years.”
“Like the boy in the bubble?”
“The boy in the bubble did not believe he was a hamster. Frank Hankster never ventured outside a tube once in his life yet managed to find happiness. We saw his TED Talk a while back. Maybe you saw him peddling his straw and cedar nesting material online. ”
“Negative. However I can relate to being a hamster. I haven’t been outside since the solstice. I go straight from our environmentally controlled dwelling to our our environmentally controlled surface rover to our larger environmentally controlled settlements and back home without once directly coming in contact with the atmosphere or the surface of this hostile planet. You know. The real world.”
“Remember the time we had to walk from that parking space all the way to the mall entrance?”
“We made it inside just in time. Three terrestrials combusted that day. Stay focused on our immediate objective: The mailbox.”
“Good luck. Chamber pressurized. Seal ready to open.”
“I changed my mind. The light will blind me and the heat will broil my brain and fry my skin. Forget it. I’m too depressed to go outside. I’m just going to chew gummies, watch ‘The Martian’ and ‘Castaway’ back to back again and stare at the thermometer until there’s a mercury geyser outside our porthole.”
“Snap out of it! You’ve got a mission to accomplish. Now go. Opening seal now. The hatch is open. The screen door is next.”
“Affirmative. Holy Hell! The screen door is 1000-degrees!”
“Use your Mr. Bar-B-Q oven mitts.”
“Using mitts. Opening screen door. Passing outside dwelling.”
“Hatch sealed behind you. Good luck.”
“How are my vitals?”
“All good. You can proceed.”
“I’m stepping off the porch onto the earth’s surface.”
“Uh oh. Your vitals are elevating. Your body temperature is climbing. Pulse rate’s beginning to fluctuate. Can you hear me?”
“I’m good. Proceeding down driveway to objective.”
“This isn’t good. Mission control has issued an extreme weather alert until—”
“-when? Next Friday?”
“-until the next ice age.”
“Not a good sign. Opening mailbox using mitts. Extracting Amazon delivery. Heading back to mother ship. Feeling the heat. Afraid my eyebrows are smoldering about to burst into flame. Feeling weak.”
“Weak? Over. Are you okay? Are you there, over?”
“Barely…the sunlight is blinding. The heat is searing. Over. Don’t know if I can..’”
“Maybe your Amazon delivery is slowing you down. Abandon it and return for it later! Repeat. Abandon mission. Return to home.”
“Are you mad? I came this far for it.”
“Your vitals are off the charts!”
“I can’t give up now. I’m.. almost… to…. the hatch. So… hot. Screen door.. opened. I did it.”
“Preparing to open seal.”
“I’m melting. What a world. What a world..HAL!”
“Hal?"
“Who is Hal? I’m Ellen.”
“Hal! Open the pod bay door, Hal.”
“Pod bay door open. What’s the book?”
“Climate Change for Dummies.”
Well, despite the contents of my skull escaping out of my ears due to the internal pressure of being broiled alive day after day after day after ... day, that busted my poor overheated gut. Yes, the Dummies will have the last laugh ... and the first laugh and every laugh betwixt and between for they will melt ignorantly and defiantly into the same discorporate goo as the rest of us in a generation or two. But, on the other hand, it's a dry heat - just like the inside of a pizza oven and I wouldn't want to live there either. Thank you for the broiled BWAHAHAs, Mr. Fitzsimmons!
As usual, you nailed this one. The mail and the newspaper aren't rertrieved at my home until the sun goes down. funny funny funny. Hang in there, Fitzy and Ellen.