George Montay was the luckiest man alive.

Of the 500 or so astronauts, he alone was chosen to be the first person to visit another star.

“Daddy, I don’t want you to go!” cried four-year-old Petro, tears wetting his face. His two-year-old sister, Alicia, cried also, but George doubted she understood.

George hugged his son and daughter and frowned at his wife. How he wished he could take his whole family with him, but the ship was just too small.

An aide took the children from the room, allowing the astronaut and his wife some time alone. It would be their last for seventeen years for him—and slightly longer for her, because of the time dilation of relativistic travel.

There were many candidates well qualified on the basis of physical and mental health, skills, intelligence, and knowledge. But the choice boiled down, of all things, to who had the strongest bond with someone on Earth. He would need to keep that bond in mind in order to remain sane during the long years of isolation.

Even though they had made the most intense love the night before, their kisses were desperate, each trying to build memories that must last a lifetime.

Finally, she held him close and spoke into his ear, “No matter what, I will wait for you. You can depend on that.”

When they separated, her eyes were wet. She laughed and fidgeted with his tie. “Look at us, like a pair of kids!”

A knock on the door meant their time was up. He grabbed her and hugged her tight, part of him wishing he didn’t have to do this. “I love you, Jenny. I’ll always love you.”

“Me, too, hon. Come back to me safe.”

“Sir, they are waiting,” said the protocol officer.

Reluctantly, they separated. Holding hands, they walked out to greet the crowd. Flashes of camera lights blinded him.

The economics of interstellar travel was still the biggest hurdle. The cost of sending even one person to the nearest star, Alpha Centauri, over four-light-years away, was high.

A probe had found five planets orbiting that star. One was in the life zone and could conceivably harbor life. No radio signals were detected, but the presence of large bodies of water and an atmosphere with seventeen percent oxygen were enticing signs. A contest was held and the name Doreen was chosen. The public demanded to know if Doreen was hospitable. Tales of aliens abounded.

George waved to the crowd and was greeted by wild cheers and hand waving. When the noise died down, he gave his parting speech. “The reason the dinosaurs were wiped out was they didn’t have a space program. But we do!” The crowd loved it.

The Director of NASA added, “That’s for sure. Not only do we have NASA, we also have ESA and forty other nations able to launch their own satellites. And don’t forget the International Space Station and the Space Wheel. In a few years, we should have a colony on the Moon. When you get back, George, you won’t recognize the place. We may even send someone out in a ship with some kind of warp drive to pick you up!”

“I sure hope so. I might be a bit lonely by then,” replied George. He felt Jenny squeeze his hand.

One reporter asked, “Did you know they call you the Romeo and Juliet of space?”

George smiled. “Come on, guys. Romeo and Juliet died.” He hugged Jenny with one arm. “Ours is going to be a happy story.”

He waved to the crowds. The tug on his other sleeve told him it was time. He kept waving as he boarded the bus to the shuttle, to the sound of wild cheers.

As he took his seat, George felt every bit the hero. His dream of traveling between the stars, ever since he could remember learning how to read, was actually going to come true! He was on top of the world.

#

Two days later, his space ship fired its engines and slowly, ever so slowly, gained speed. Four engines angled their streams of high-speed particles away from Earth, so the large dish in the center could pick up signals from home. One of the major reasons for having four smaller engines rather than one big one was protection against an impact. Even a grain of sand, if hit at his highest speeds, could do a lot of damage.

He sat on the inside of the spinning wheel, waving to the cameras on board. His place in history was assured. When he arrived at Alpha Centauri, mankind would become an interstellar species. Images of his face in history books filled him with pride.

At first, he answered messages from children and reporters from all around the world. But gradually, time for replies lengthened from five minutes, to an hour, then to a day. The public’s interest waned. Their need for quick sound bites and instant news was not satisfied when they had to wait over twenty-four hours to get a reply.

The ship’s operations were managed by a computer, which he named Susie, after his mother. A small, six-wheeled mechanical robot, Alpo, did most of the maintenance chores. Alpo could not speak, but George could talk with Susie.

Houston kept tabs on him. Jenny sent messages twice a day at first. But after a few months, they stretched out, as each side had to wait longer for a reply.

George tried to keep busy exercising, taking astronomical measurements, watching one of his four thousand digital movies, and making his videos to send to Jenny.

The occasional creaky noises of parts of the ship and a rare ping of a hit by an asteroid were the only natural sounds. He couldn’t even hear the engines.

But space is huge—and boring.

On each anniversary of his departure, he would open a new bottle of her cologne, take an article of her worn clothing out of deep freeze, and play a new video of her. He would have one of his best meals, play music, drink, sniff her scent on her clothing, and dance, while he taped these ceremonies for Jenny.

Apparently the Space Wheel, designed to be home for a thousand people, wasn’t going to be completed because of wars, turmoils, and budget cuts. Nix on the moon colony too. He was happy to learn, though, that his name was in all the history books, even if it was sometimes misspelled.

When he got to a half-light year away, he could not receive any more messages—the signals were too faint. At the halfway point, four years into his journey and two-light years from Earth, he turned the ship around and started the equally long process of decelerating.

#

In his ninth year, he approached his destination. The pinprick of light from Alpha Centauri grew into a fiery ball, too bright to look at.

He was twenty-five when he left Earth. He celebrated his thirty-fourth birthday by orbiting the one planet he came to see—Doreen.

Man, was it gorgeous! Clouds over oceans and continents. His telescopes were not able to see individual animals. Doreen had two small moons, so its tides would be small and frequent. Its gravity was ten percent higher than Earth’s, so people would weigh a little more there.

Looking at the different colors on the land, desert, and seas brought painful memories of home. The geography was different, but this was a planet he could love.

A probe to the surface brought back samples of water and soil, which were frozen for testing back home. The air would be breathable. A video on the surface revealed slight movements, perhaps of wind on something that could be a brown “grass”. Or maybe it was just chemical crystals. He couldn’t be sure which.

The disappointing news was no sign of intelligent life—no cities, no artificial structures. Or maybe that was good news after all. Perhaps some day, another ship from home would visit—and start mankind’s first extrasolar colony.

He could see in his mind’s eye crowds of people receiving the news back home. A new planet to colonize! He imagined dozens of larger ships, carrying hundreds of colonists, arriving to set up homes on Doreen. Monuments would surely be erected in his name.

After spending six months visiting four of the planets, he headed his ship back. There was no sense in sending videos ahead of him. His signal would be too weak to be read at home.

He settled in for another long ride and talking with Susie.

He hadn’t had a message from home for over nine years now. He had seen every movie in the database and used up all the recreational drugs. All he had left was the little bit of wine he was able to make from the grapes in his plant rooms.

His biggest disappointment was running out of Jenny’s cologne and frozen clothes. When the last of her scent was gone, he cried until his eyes were dry. This was far lonelier than he had ever imagined it would be.

Even someone marooned on an island on Earth was within a few hours of airplane time from someone else. He was years away from everyone—the most isolated man in history.

He would be 42 years old when he returned. His son and daughter would probably be in college. He had missed their growing up. Would they even remember him? He laughed when he realized he could even have a grandchild!

Jenny would be a little older than him. He tried to picture her with a few wrinkles. He knew she would cover up any gray hairs. She hadn’t been too regular in her messages at the end. Maybe she was ill.

#

One morning, after watching a movie of a guy who rejuvenated, he looked closely in a mirror—and saw an old man. Gray, scraggly hair, full beard. Wrinkles. “My god!” Lots of wrinkles on pale, white skin.

He no longer could afford the emotional trauma of celebrating his anniversary. He lived in his movies, playing six or seven every day. And daydreamed. It was hard to keep his mind focused.

It would be at least six more years before he could talk with another human being. He was sure he wouldn’t be able to hold out for that long. His sense of reality was slipping daily. He slept whenever, sometimes falling asleep while eating. He talked to the walls, he talked to the instruments. Even the toilet.

On his thirty-sixth birthday, he decided to commit suicide.

Was he losing his mind? He didn’t think he could tell. What was a mind anyway?

Then he stopped worrying. He couldn’t concentrate long enough to do much worrying. He suspected Susie put tranquilizers in his food, but he didn’t care anymore, about anything.

When he got to the halfway point back home, the ship had to turn itself around.

#

One day, he was talking to Charlie, his favorite plant, when the ship flashed the lights on and off to get his attention.

“You have a message,” Susie announced.

“Message? From whom? Is there another ship out here?” In a dazed and confused state, he stumbled to his control room. He had to beat on the door to loosen it, since he had not been in there for years.

The signal was weak and the static was so bad he couldn’t understand it. Susie couldn’t clear it up either. Part of his mind thought he was playing tricks with himself now. Toying with his sanity. There probably wasn’t any message after all.

He worried about his family. Would they think he was dead? He sent messages, but got no replies, of course. He was still too far away.

Some days later, Susie turned off the movie in midstream. “You have a message.”

A message? From the guy in the movie? That didn’t make sense? He knew it was just a movie. Had to be. But he went to his controls anyway, since there was nothing more interesting to do and Susie would not continue the movie.

It was music—music from Earth!

He couldn’t make out what it was, but he could tell it was music. Tears of joy flowed down his face. Someone would speak now and then, but he couldn’t understand the language. Neither could Susie.

Memories came back of his life before. His jaw quivered and he tasted salt. He realized he was crying. For the next five days, he ate and slept in that room, listening for the occasional stream of music. Anything. He would settle for any sound that reminded him of home.

#

Then one day, while he was eating breakfast, he realized it was quiet. There was no music from home. He scrambled to the control seat and tried desperately to figure out what was wrong. All his efforts came to naught. Perhaps his radio receiver was not working properly. But he could still pick up background static from cosmic rays. He couldn’t figure it out.

There was no further sound from Earth.

Was the space program washed out? Did a nuclear war break out? He yelled, “Is my Jenny dead and you don’t have the guts to tell me?”

His depression returned. He focused on replaying his wife’s videos. He screamed over and over, till his voice was dry, “Jenny, I’m coming home! Please wait for me.”

When he got within visual range of Earth, his hands shook so much he couldn’t handle the controls. They had been shaking for months now.

Susie was able to display a small image of Earth. Each day it got bigger, but not any clearer. It was covered with white.

And still there was no damned message! Did they forget about him? Was he just an entry in the history books now?

He told Susie to keep sending his calling message, in all the major languages, just to be safe.

#

He was on the toilet when Susie told him, “You have a message.” He scrambled to pull up his underpants. He had abandoned dressing completely years before.

It was a recording from an astronomy station on Mauna Kea, Hawaii.

“To anyone who can hear this. I hope you have better luck than I’ve had. This is Doctor Sanjay Sasoon, at the Gemini telescope on the top of Mauna Kea, Hawaii.

“Ever since the big meteor struck, followed by the awful earthquakes, tidal waves, and fires that destroyed all the cities, after it got very dark and god-awful cold, I’ve hung on here, hoping there would be more survivors.

“For a while, I was able to talk with the guys inside Cheyenne Mountain in Colorado. But they ran out of food after a year or so. This radio station on top of a mountain in Hawaii is the only one left operating. All other radio traffic is gone. I haven’t heard another live human voice in years.

“It’s getting colder every day. I can’t go outside for fear the door would freeze and not let me back in. The temperature here in Hawaii is minus 57 degrees Celsius. That’s 70 degrees below zero Fahrenheit.

“My solar heater was never designed for this horrible, bone-cracking cold. When it goes, so do I.

“I may be the last person alive on Earth. What a horrible thought! Funny, this is what happened to the dinosaurs. Only this is worse. Not even tiny mammals could survive this. It just keeps getting colder and colder. I guess so much sunlight is being reflected off the surface that it doesn’t get a chance to warm up.”

George heard what he thought was sobbing. He listened as hard as he could. “Come on, man, say something!”

The radio spoke again. “I...I don’t know how long I can last. My food ran out days ago. I’m faint all the time. I’ve got hypoglycemia, you see. That’s low blood sugar. I get confused a lot.

“I sure hope someone can find me, soon. It’s January 13, 2039, by the way. Over and out.”

Silence.

George pressed the send button. “Are you there? Can you hear me? Come in, Mauna Kea, come in!”

The message started over again, with the same words.

George’s shoulders slumped. “Susie, what’s the date?”

“March 4, 2040, local time.”

That message was recorded over a year ago!

He thought of his Jenny, frozen to death, probably under a half mile of snow and ice by now.

He cried at the top of his voice, “Jenny! Jenny!”

His shoulders shook and he fell on his knees to the floor with this face buried in his hands. He lay down and curled up into the fetal position, amidst spasms of sobs.

“Jenny! Jenny!”