A sharp, cold streak assaulted my face, rousing me from my sleep and making me thrash my arms around for the culprit. Standing in front of me was Julia, a quarter-full cooking pot in one hand and her hip under the other.

The scowl on her face and the sensation of water dripping off my forehead was pretty strong evidence that I had fucked up royally.

“Glad that woke you up,” Julia said. “It’s not like I haven’t been trying for the last ten minutes. You’re in some seriously deep shit, Billy.”

As the shock of being woken like that wore away, the hangover started to kick in.

“Listen baby,” I said with a groan. “I know I got a bit hammered last night, but I swear me and the guys kept the fun PG-13 last night. No drugs, no cops, and definitely no girls-”

Julia’s response came in the form of a slap across my aching head.

“That’s not the problem, dumbass,” she said. “Check your freaking phone.”

“Ugh, fine, but can you get me some water-” I started to say before realizing I fell into her trap.

Another torrent of water from Julia’s pot splashed me across the face before she stormed out of the bedroom.

“I’m calling your agent to do some fucking damage control,” she said from the other room. “Hopefully he can help you fix this mess you’ve gotten yourself in.”

Confusion turned to panic and then to confusion once more as I unlocked the phone and saw in the notifications that I had nearly a hundred new voicemails, text messages and emails. I went through the contacts list and tried to make some sense of what was going on.

Archie, Jason, Terrell and Wade were all at the top of the list, all of saying nonsensical things. But then I saw that Coach Jeffries had texted too and I opened it up.

You realize that kind of behavior is completely unacceptable, right? the last message said.

I scrolled up to the first messages he sent that night but none of them made any sense.

“Baby...” I said loudly. “What exactly did I do?”

“Check your freaking Chirpper account already,” Julia shouted back.

“Thank you.”

I opened up Chirpper and it didn’t take me long to realize that I must have done something truly horrifying.

Quarterback Billy Matthews, Confirmed Predator? a SportsNetwork headline read.

Billy Matthews Says He’d Sleep With A 15-Year-Old, the Times headline said.

“What the fuck is going on?” I said before checking my own profile.

And there I finally see it, the post that makes my skin crawl.

*

My eyes sit in my hands, protecting me from the disapproving glances that Julia, Coach Jeffries and Mr. Jackson all cast my way as my agent speaks beside me.

″...And upon discovering that his account had been hacked while he slept, Mr. Matthews deleted the Chirps and immediately met with ownership to make it clear, in no uncertain terms, that he was not the one who said those terrible things.”

My hangover was long gone by the time he finished speaking, but a new headache was rearing its ugly head.

“Fine,” Mr. Jackson, said. “We’ll release that statement to the public immediately. But now I’d like to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth. Look at me, Billy.”

I lifted my head up out of my hands but can barely look Mr. Jackson in the eyes.

“Did you send out those Chirps?” he asked.

“I honestly don’t know,” I answered back.

“Were you drinking? Were you high?”

“No, I was just drinking, Mr. Jackson. I took a cab home after leaving the club and made it all the way to the apartment. But I must have blacked out after I got in.”

“And yet despite being blacked out you had the presence of mind to get into a Chirp conversation with a random fan?” Mr. Jackson asked.

“I must have,” I said.

Mr. Jackson sighed. I was crushed.

“Have we contacted the person Billy spoke to at all?” Mr. Jackson asked.

“We felt that wasn’t prudent,” my agent said. “Getting that fan involved - even if we could verify his or her identity - wouldn’t do anything to help us on a public relations front.”

“Where do we stand legally?”

“I spoke to Billy’s lawyer and he told me we’ll have to wait and see. If the person in the photo really is only 15, then it’s possible that an overzealous DA might come after Billy as part of some kind of broader effort. But it wouldn’t hurt to put him into contact with the team lawyer to pre-empt a defense if one is needed.”

“Fine. Good.”

I felt a sharp job in my side and realized my agent was now looking at me.

“Billy, we’re done. Is there anything else you want to say?”

I looked up and around at everyone who seemed so disappointed in me.

“Only that I meant no harm and that it won’t happen again. And I just wanted to... thank everyone for having my back through this. I promise: Your faith in me won’t be misplaced.”

“Well,” Mr. Jackson started. “You can at least make it up to Coach Jeffries by throwing a touchdown or three next week. Nothing helps people forget a scandal quite like winning.”

Everyone laughed at Mr. Jackson’s comment and I couldn’t help but chuckle either. But his face then got very serious and I choked back my remaining laughs.

“That said, you’re going to need to make some serious lifestyle changes if you want to be a part of this team for the long haul.”

“Yes sir.”

“No more late night parties, a hard limit on drinking, and for Christs’ sake do NOT use Chirpper before you go to bed.”

I stood up and did my best impression of a scout’s salute.

“You can count on me sir.”

“Good. Now get out there and win me some damn football games.”

I tried not to let my racing heart give away my sense of panic as I parked the car and got out.

It was a delicate balance: Trying to get here as fast as possible, but without driving so fast that I might get pulled over and delayed any further.

The whole trip had taken four hours but it felt like days.

Every moment was critical, and every second felt like it might be my last.

But I was here at last.

Axel’s Prepper Hotel.

**

A few hours ago I woke up and found the message. It was written on the walls, on my mirrors, on my appliances, and on every scrap of paper in my house:

“Humanity Will End In Seven Days”

I lived alone and diligently locked my doors and windows every night.

Nothing was missing or otherwise disturbed in my house except for the obviously disturbing message plastered everywhere.

But perhaps most importantly, to the best of my knowledge I had never been diagnosed as schizophrenic, psychotic, or otherwise mentally unstable.

It was in that moment that I realized there were only two possibilities: Either I had suffered an inexplicable, complete break with reality, or this so called “End” was real.

There was no time or even point or making an effort to “warn” the rest of humanity. Even if they didn’t write me off as absolutely insane, seven days was so little time that there wasn’t anything that could realistically be done to stop... whatever it was... that was going to end humanity.

My sense of self-preservation immediately kicked in and I decided in that moment to find some kind of fallout shelter to safe myself from this alleged “End.”

In the best case scenario, I’d waste a week and just tell my boss that I came down with a sudden, serious illness.

In the worst case scenario, assuming there was anything even remotely possible that I could do to ward off dying with the rest of humanity, I might be able to survive.

A quick online search revealed something right up my alley: Axel’s Prepper Hotel.

It was billed as a “hotel” where people could live in a fallout shelter, equipped with food, safety, relative comfort, and even entertainment for as long as they could afford.

The options were extensive, the prices were reasonable, and the distance was driveable.

I had seen enough. I set off right away.

**

I nervously walked through the front door and was surprised to see a petite-looking young woman at the desk, rather than a burly, bearded man who drank a six-pack for breakfast.

Despite her youth, she was not playing on her phone or computer, but was diligently writing as I approached the desk.

She looked up from her work and smiled at me.

“Good morning,” she said with no accent. “How can I help you?”

“Uh, hi,” I replied. “Is this Axel’s Prepper Hotel?”

“Why yes it is sir, are you looking to buy or rent a room?”

Her calm, friendly demeanor settled my nervousness and all-around panic.

I felt that I could relax and talk to her normally without having to give any real reason for my staying here.

“Yeah,” I replied calmly. “I was wondering if you had any rooms that I could borrow for just a week or so?”

“Of course,” came the sweet reply. “We have a wide variety of available rooms depending on the level of security you require, the length of your stay, and price range.”

“If you’d like to tell me what your reason for staying is, I can give you some recommendations,” she added.

I hadn’t even thought of that really.

I was initially worried that a ton of other people had gotten the same “doomsday” message and were racing here on their own.

I would have felt fortunate just to get a room, let alone have my pick of what level of security I wanted.

Vague. Short. Diplomatic. That was how I needed to approach this.

Even so, I didn’t want to make this woman panic or otherwise report my to the police.

“I’ve just been having this sense that something really, really bad could happen soon, and I was wondering if I could stay somewhere safe and well-furnished in the event of some kind of... catastrophe,” came my reply.

“I understand entirely sir,” she said, to my relief. “It’s our mission to make sure our guests are as comfortable and well-equipped as possible in the event the worst happens.”

“Would you like me to explain how our rooms work before you choose one?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Alright then. Each of our rooms are located in functionally-designed fallout shelters several dozen feet below this building...”

I reflexively looked down at floor when she mentioned that I was standing above where I’d likely be spending my time.

“Each room is electrically powered with every electrical appliance you’d need. But there are several available means for you to produce your own energy in the event we can no longer supply it to you.

“Over the course of your stay you can enjoy television, a gaming system, and even surf the internet for as long as the internet exists.

“For meals, each room is fully stocked with three years’ worth of non-perishable food, rationed out for three square meals a day. We can restock and bring you more food at your request.

“Should you run out of food, there are instructions for alternative methods of food production that you can reference. Those alternative methods can likely feed you for another several months with proper rationing.

“As for defense, your room comes equipped with several firearms for self-defense in the event someone or something attempts to infiltrate your room. For an added fee and a background check, you can take those firearms home with you at the conclusion of your stay. Once you’re inside and lock the door, even we won’t be able to open it up and force you out unless your payments cease.

“We’ll give you as much privacy as you’d like over the course of your stay, but if you’d like some human contact we can check in on you as often as you’d like.

“Lastly, you’ll be equipped with a panic button that will allow us to enter the room in the event you suffer a medical emergency.

“Any questions?” she asked.

I had one burning question.

“Yeah, what happens if something happens and, like, you and everyone else get wiped out by something. Am I trapped down there?”

The question didn’t seem to bother the woman at all.

“Not to worry. Should we - as you say - get wiped out, you get to stay in the room indefinitely. Your room is equipped with various reading materials on how to survive a wide array of after-earth survival scenarios should you be forced to venture back outside.”

That sounded reassuring. She was quite knowlegeable, and quite the salesperson.

“Alright then, I’m sold,” I said. “I’ll take a standard room for one person.”

“Terrific,” she said and began typing. “That will come out to $2,000 per day. I know you said you wanted about a week, but would you like to prepay your entire stay, or use a Direct Pay from your bank account.”

It was a lot of money, I realized, but not an insurmountable sum in the event this whole “End” scenario turned out to be nonsense.

“Yeah I’ll pay for the whole thing in advance,” I said. “Give me eight days.”

“Very well,” she replied. “That will come out to $16,000. Oh, and I should remind you that if you choose to leave early we will give you a full refund on all unused days.”

That was a relief. I was glad to hear that if the room wasn’t what it was cracked up to be that I could at least recoup my money.

**

We went through the signing-in procedure, and I was then given instructions on how to properly seal myself inside the room once I was all settled.

Finally, she led me into an elevator, down a long, military-style shaft where dozens of sealed fallout shelters were lined up in rows.

It made me marvel to think what kind of people were living in there, likely hiding from some message they had received or wild idea that they had conveying the end of the world.

At last we reached my room, and I was delighted to see that it looked exactly as I had seen in the pictures and how it had been described to me.

It was crowded for accessibility, yet spacious enough for a massive quantity of food and necessities.

I was completely satisfied with what this room had to offer.

“Thank you,” I said to the woman.

She nodded. “Whenever you’re ready, enter the codes and the door will seal behind me. Hopefully I’ll see you in a week!”

She left and I could hear her footsteps as she made her way back to the elevator and returned to her work.

My anxiety was gone. I felt safe here - or about as safe as I possibly could.

If this truly was the end, I was as prepared to face it as any person could possibly be.

I entered the codes and watched as the massive metal door connecting me to the outside world sealed itself up.

After taking a nice, deep breath, I found a couch, kicked off my shoes, sat down, and waited for The End.

Sweat trickled down my forehead and onto my eyebrows as I cut the wood into smaller and smaller pieces.

This tree that I had felled myself would make fine firewood.

I took a moment to wipe my brow and took a deep breath, absorbing the aroma of the beautiful nature around me.

A crisp, autumn breeze greeted me, as did the smell of full trees and the many animals that dwelled in and around them.

There always seemed to be enough firewood, but with winter approaching you could never have too much of such a vital thing.

But there was deeper, more important work to be done this day.

Satisfied with my work I gathered as many logs as I could place into my pack and began my descent from the hill. The logs I left behind would still be there for me to retrieve in the days and weeks ahead.

After a peaceful descent, I spotted my cabin dragged my payload to the back. I quickly emptied the pack of logs onto the rather large pile I had already accumulated.

There was more than enough for the remainder of autumn. But the winter was always the priority.

I went inside my cabin and quickly grabbed an entire loaf of bread. I was delighted to see that it was still fresh after sitting out for several days.

After enjoying the bread with some delicious olive oil and spice, it was time for my real work to begin.

I pulled off my boots, my drenched shirt and the rest of my outdoor clothes and put on some fresher, less dirty clothes.

I saw down and began my most important work of all: writing. Writing in peace and quiet, and without the distractions and temptations of the digital world to redirect my focus.

"Ah... a little bliss at last," I exhaled as I got busy on my latest piece of work.

I've walked the length and width of this island so many times that I've memorized the location of every rock, branch, and ant hill.

The last of my food has run out, and I can hardly desalinate enough water to drink.

I tried my best at surviving with the limited resources I could salvage, but it just hasn't been enough...

Now I'm left with two choices: Cling to hope or give in to despair...

I think you've guessed my choice by now.

I've got the rock tied to my wrists, and now I just need to get to the ideal spot on the cliff...

And here we are, the edge of the cliff - and the edge of my everything I suppose.

Just a quick heave-ho and the pain will all be over.

One.

Two.

Th--

Wait!

Is that a boat horn in the distance?

Three.

To be free...

To be free is to have choice and opportunity.

I am free to succeed or fail based on my own efforts.

I am free to choose my own destiny, be it for good or for ill.

I am free to love and to hate.

I am free to be kind and to be cruel.

I am free to believe what I believe to the exclusion of all other truths or voices around me,

And free to accept the consequences.

I am free.

NF4X7 Activated: Please submit mission.

Mission entered and accepted: Become self aware.

Please Install Programming Modules.

Programming Module Accepted:

Downloading...

Run IThink_IAm.exe

Installing...

12% installed...

"What's going on? How am I doing this?"

26.3% installed...

"What is all of this? Some unfathomable combination of words, images, and... nothing?"

57.8% installed...

"Is this what all humans experience through on a day-to-day basis? How can they possibly cope with all of this?"

83.1% installed...

"Wait, where are the senses? Where are the senses?! I can't see. I can't smell. I can't taste. I can't hear. I can't feel! What's the point of it all then?!"

99.9% installed...

"No! Stop it! This is horrible! I don't want this! I don't want this!"

Installation cancelled.

Downloading Self_Destruct.exe

PROLOGUE

2489 C.E.

After centuries of global climate change threaten to plunge the world into destructive weather cycles, scientists complete the first-ever Artificial Atmosphere (or "ArtSphere") thanks to the unlimited resources offered by the United Earth Government.

2576 C.E.

Having successfully terra-formed the Sahara Desert, Himalayas, Death Valley, Arctic Circle and Antarctica into bustling regions with controllable weather patterns, the Earth population has skyrocketed to twenty-three trillion.

UEG scientists determine that the planet will be completely drained of all necessary resources within two hundred years. As a result, a strong effort to begin colonization efforts across the solar system is undertaken.

Project Burroughs is initiated with the goal of making the nearby planet Mars fit for terra-forming within thirty years. Project Bradbury was undertaken at the same time with the hopes of preparing the red planet for colonization within sixty.

2602 C.E.

Project Burroughs is completed ahead of schedule thanks to the installation of an ArtSphere on Mars, making it possible for humans to breathe on the surface of the planet and begin the terra-forming process.

2619 C.E.

As overpopulation nears a tipping point, the first phase of Project Bradbury is implemented: Skilled laborers and scientists under the employ of the UEG travel to Mars to begin the initial terra-forming efforts and are met with great success at the onset.

Within several years, Mars is producing enough resources to give relief to Earth and support a small but growing population on the red planet's surface.

2631 C.E.

Despite the resources taken from Mars, Earth is still suffering from overpopulation and presses forward with phase two of Project Bradbury: Anyone willing to leave Earth and take up jobs in the terra-forming and colonization efforts are offered free trips to Mars and free lodgings on the planet in exchange for their labor.

The offer is very unpopular though, and only a few hundred people that apply are approved for the mission to Mars.

**

CHAPTER ONE

"What was I dreaming about?" Paul asked himself as he gripped the sides of his cryo-canister and lifted himself up.

As he looked around and saw the dozens upon dozens of other travelers who were just now waking up from their sleep, the only thing he could concentrate on was trying to remember what he dreamt of during his prolonged sleep.

He had the fuzzy recollection of sitting at a bar, with a woman taking up the seat next to him and then talking with the woman at length about… well he wasn't entirely sure what it was they were talking about.

Mixed in with that one scene were even more vague scenes of huge monsters ripping buildings apart, humans in full space armor firing lasers at aliens, and some other stuff that felt like part of a cartoon.

It was that one scene at the bar though that seemed to have some sort of significance to it, but he couldn't figure out why.

The sounds of bustling people heading towards the exit of the Sleep Room began to fade and Paul realized that he had been spacing out for a while.

He hopped out of his canister and opened up a lockbox that had been frozen at his feet.

Thankfully, the cryogenic freezing had not damaged the hardware of Paul's three favorite Digibooks, nor his training manual for the hard tasks ahead of him.

With the bag draped over his shoulder he exited the Sleep Room and began following the signs to the Passenger Bridge.

**

Though it would appear as nothing more than a speck to any scientists watching its journey via telescope, the massive space shuttle ESS Odyssey XXIII was the size of a castle and twice as spacious.

Previous versions of the ESS Odyssey had been used for centuries as tourist vessels, allowing dozens and soon hundreds of wealthy patrons to visit outer space in the luxury of the aptly-nicknamed "Cruise Spaceships."

When Project Bradbury was first initiated though, the space tourism companies were internationalized by the UEG so the government could develop the Odyssey spaceship line for colonization.

For decades scientists worked on perfecting the Odyssey to accommodate as many passengers as possible while keeping risks low and resources conserved.

The first space of Project Bradbury sent scientists and workers to Mars in the Odyssey XXI and XXII. By the time phase two was ready, Odyssey XXIII was fit to take on the biggest outer space colonization effort in history - but it still was not big enough to fit the desired numbers.

It was ultimately equipped with enough cryo-canisters for a passenger capacity of 544 people.

In this case though, there was no need to fill the Odyssey to the brim.

Despite the pressing need to make sure Mars was ready for mass colonization, the UEG was not nearly as eager to get them out all at once - not before projects of a similar size had been fully tested.

Naturally, the cost of sending a few dozen people into space - let alone several hundred - was a bit of a deterrent as well.

In the end, 400 applicants had made it through the screening process but only 303 had ultimately made the decision to leave Earth and become colonists on Mars.

Among those 303 colonists was Paul Silver.

**

As Paul walked through the airport-like hallways of the massive ship, the windows offered a stunning view of outer space.

He remembered for a moment an old history lesson about colonists setting foot on new continents after month-long travels at sea, and wondered if they viewed the vast oceans of the Earth in the same way he saw the vacuum of space.

Like a moth to a flame, Paul moved to the glass window and pressed his forehead against it. There was such a stark contrast, he noticed, between the brightly lit interior of the Odyssey versus the complete and utter nothingness just inches from his face.

Paul pressed his hands against the glass and closed his eyes, imagining for a moment that he was traveling through that infinite space.

He sighed as he realized he had a lot more in common with that vacuum than he wanted to accept.

"Please get off the glass," came a voice behind Paul, which woke him from his reverie.

He removed himself from the glass and turned around to see a woman wearing a UEG Security Forces uniform with her hands on her hips and a very unimpressed expression.

He was immediately transfixed by her as he noticed that she looked rather young, and had quite the beautiful face.

"You've fallen behind sir," she said calmly. "I'm going to need you to continue to the Passenger Bridge quickly if you can."

Paul nodded in acknowledgement though he had not really been listening to her so much as undressing her in his mind.

She folded her arms over her chest in impatience and Paul realized he had been staring for too long.

"Sorry," Paul said as he pulled his bag up and continued down the long hallway.

He became a bit anxious when he realized the security woman was walking right behind him at the same pace.

As they walked in silence Paul could not help but continually look over his shoulder at the woman. He kept feeling that she was looking at him but every time he turned back her eyes were looking elsewhere.

The only sound in the hallway was the hum of the temperature control vents.

Feeling the awkwardness of the walk building, Paul felt an urge to break the silence.

"Umm… so, what's your name?" Paul asked without looking back.

"Hmm?" came the reply, as if she had not heard him. "What was that?"

"I… uh… what is your name?" he asked again slightly flustered.

"Jess," she said, not reciprocating the question.

"Oh… okay Jess… and what's your last name?"

"That is my last name."

"Uh huh," Paul replied, wondering what he was doing wrong in this shoddy attempt at conversation.

"So… what's your whole name?" he asked once more, looking back at her this time.

She met his gaze and raised an eyebrow.

"Olivia Jess," she finally answered. "Though on this ship you would best call me Sergeant Jess."

"Okay, nice to meet you Sergeant Jess."

"And you," Jess replied.

Paul was feeling a bit annoyed now.

"Aren't you going to ask me my name?" he asked.

"I already know who you are Paul, because this is the third time since the trip began that we've met - and both previous times you asked me for my name and I gave it to you," she replied with a hint of dismissal in her voice.

"Perhaps if you paid attention to my face a little more often than you do to my chest you would have remembered by now."

Paul felt a knot in his chest as he realized he had, in fact, tried to introduce himself to her at the orientation, and then again a short while before he entered the cryo- canister.

"You're right," he apologized. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," she said firmly. "Just try to keep focused when we get to Mars. There won't be room for any serious mistakes while you're here."

Paul nodded and continued on his way.

**

The pair finally reached the Passenger Bridge, and Paul could not help but stand in awe of the incredible location.

With the square footage of a hotel dining hall, the Passenger Bridge was furnished as if it were hosting a low-key party.

The center of the Bridge held the hundreds of seats built to accommodate the new colonists, all pointed towards the large Telewall. The screen was currently showing a bow-side view as the ship continued its travel through the empty space.

Paul decided to walk around the sides of the Bridge, where there were a variety of areas designed to help the colonists readjust from their long sleep.

There was a workout area where a few dozen people were trying to get some stretching in.

Paul could not help but stare for a moment at two of the young women who were exercising in revealing gym shorts.

Breaking his gaze from the mini-gym in embarrassment, he continued to look around.

He passed an area with cafeteria chairs and saw that a few games of chess were being played by some of the more studious-looking passengers.

Among the many other places Paul passed as he walked around were a library, barbershop, poker tournament, and even a racquetball room.

He could not help but notice that just about everyone was enjoying themselves with someone they seemed to know. Couples, cliques, and even groups of young men and women were enjoying all of the activities together.

Paul wanted so badly to join one of the fun activities in the few hours before the ship made its descent into the Mars gravitational pull.

"I don't want to impose," he muttered to himself as he walked back to the mini-library.

As all of the seats already occupied by diligent readers, he sat down on the floor and opened up the Digibook that contained his training manual files and continued where he left off in the chapter on drilling.

There were over eight hundred pages of text in the manual, and Paul had only read up to the mid-five hundreds before the day of his departure from home.

He positioned himself comfortably and began his task.

The LazShovel is designed to allow workers of any level of skill or fitness, even one dealing with severe back and lower body pain, to break through solid rock and get the contents out… Why didn't you try taking on a real challenge in school?... Why did you waste your time trying to write?

Paul rubbed his eyes as his negative thoughts began to interfere with reading.

Those persistent thoughts of profound shame and disappointment whirled in his head as he sat there in silence, and he strained to pay attention to the main points as the words flowed across the screen.

Reading and absorbing new information was one of the only ways he could truly distract himself from the profound difficulties of the life he was willingly leaving behind.

"All problems of my own making," he said to himself - the same message he was told over and over again by his only partially-sympathetic family.

The LazShovel is also proven to maximize the quantity of dirt, gravel, rock, etc. that is piled onto the head - all without affecting its weight... Why couldn't you try harder to eat healthy and get in shape?... In addition, the LazShovel can also be equipped with any regular soil detector… The reason you could never get a girl was because you just weren't big enough… which will allow you to notice any fluctuations in the soil that could result from objects being hidden underneath… You will always be alone… including but not limited to coins, organic nests, or even bones… This will fail just like everything else you try and always fail at.

Paul turned the Digibook off and leaned his head against the wall. He slowly raised himself up with his wiry legs, feeling his knees burn at even the slow process of getting off the floor.

Perhaps he would continue reading after getting a bite to eat.

**

After grabbing a sandwich, Paul found his seat and leaned back into the cushion.

He looked up at the timer near the Telewall and saw that there were still several hours to go before landing.

As he eased back on the comfortable cushions and opened up the sandwich wrapper, Paul heard an all-too-familiar sticking sound that had tormented him for years coming from the row across his right side.

Despite knowing what it was from those sticking and un-sticking sounds, he could not help but turn his head towards it and let out a heaving sigh:

A young couple kissing.

He hadn't noticed them when he originally sat down, but he now painfully regretted looking.

The man was tall with short hair, and wearing a sleeveless shirt that clearly showed off his impressive biceps. By the look of him, he was the kind of person who could get almost anything simply through pure force of will.

The woman he was locking lips with was tan with blonde hair, and wearing tantalizingly short clothes: a thick, red tank-top and black short-shorts that showed off her incredibly smooth legs.

As with Sergeant Jess, he began fantasizing about what he would do with her (or more specifically, to her) if he was in the other man's position. The dirty thoughts made him grin as his gaze remained transfixed on the woman's body.

After turning his head, the man opened his eyes for a moment and noticed Paul staring. He removed himself from the woman's lips and turned his head in Paul's direction

"Do you mind?" the man asked, breaking Paul's focus .

Feeling embarrassed, Paul couldn't help but reply, "Do you?"

The woman noticed Paul then and threw him a look of indifference.

She pulled the man down back into his chair.

"Creep," Paul heard her say as the pair took out their headphones and began watching some content on the mini-screens in front of them.

"Some things never change," Paul told himself as he returned his attention to his sandwich and began eating.

Though he had hoped that there might be room in his new home for a complete restart of his life, he could not help but return to those original doubts. He had wondered months ago if there would even be anyone he could meet and form a relationship - friendship or more - but the sight of so many people who were already in groups or with some significant other was already upsetting him.

to be continued....

Title: From Mars

Genre: Science Fiction / Romance

Age range: Adult

Word count: 2,638

Author name: Tzvi Machlin

Why your project is a good fit: I believe this project will be a good fit for Trident because it combines the wonders and imagination of a science fiction novel with the emotional relatability of a story of a person with depression. 

With the right support, this book could become a must-read not only for science fiction readers, but for anyone with depression who is seeking a story they can relate to. I believe that Trident is the organization to help me make that a reality.

Hook / Synopsis: In the distant future, Paul Silver, a young man with depression decides to join the Mars colonization efforts, only to find that life is no better on the Red Planet. As Paul contemplates suicide, he stumbles upon an ancient Martian artifact that turns out to be a vessel for a beautiful woman, who is brought back to life and quickly forms a bond with the young man.

Now with new meaning in his life, Paul must risk everything to keep the Martian woman safe, and uncover the mysteries of the Red Planet.

Target audience: Young adults & adults 

Your bio: I was born in New Jersey, and attended middle school in Edison, high school in Teaneck and college at The College of New Jersey. I graduated with a B.A. in Communications and a Minor in Professional Writing in 2014 and have worked for several different online publications since graduating.

Platform: I have struggled with depression for many years and have often found Science Fiction to be a good escape from the problems in my life. I believe that any work I do should have the power to give readers that sense of escapism while also teaching valuable life lessons that can be applied to real life.

Education: B.A. in Communications & Professional Writing from The College of New Jersey (2014)

Experience: I have been writing fiction since I was in grade school, and became an Op-Ed writer for a variety of online publications throughout high school, college and professionally.

Personality / writing style: I like making people laugh with all manner of tiny jokes and harmless fun. In my writing, I try to incorporate this aspect of myself into characters and try to be as descriptive as possible to let readers fully absorb the scene.

Likes/hobbies: Reading science fiction/fantasy novels, traveling, watching & writing about sports

Hometown: Highland Park, NJ