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32 days.
That's how long the record will show I lasted. 2764800 seconds and some change. Doesn't sound like much; it isn't much, really. But it's too much for me. Rocky lasted 46 years. I will make it to barely 0.2% of that. Goes to show I'm still a coward at heart.
The real food is about to run out, and I want this over before that one tiny remaining joy is taken from me. Rocky's ship finally disappeared from the Petrovascope yesterday, and I think it was that emptiness that finally cemented my decision. The inevitable disappearance of that tiny weak symbol in the black reminded me that I had lost the best thing that would ever happen to me.
I've gone back and forth on this for a couple of weeks now. I know the more logical option is the coma. I could wake up back in Earth's orbit and be hailed as a hero for the rest of my life. Just like Stratt said. But the more I've thought about it, the more I've realised that isn't what I want. I want a normal, boring life, and that is the one thing I will simply never be allowed to have again.
Even if the world is exactly the same as it was when I left, and I'm not stupid enough to believe that, I'll never be able to go back to anything resembling what I left behind. I'll be one of the most famous faces on the planet. Every government and scientific institute will be demanding my help for the rest of my life, and I know I'll give it to them because Stratt, hate her though I do, was right. I'm fundamentally a good person. I'll never know peace again, never teach another ordinary science class to ordinary kids, never be able to go for a walk on the beach without someone stopping to ask if I'm the Ryland Grace.
I'll have salvaged the world from the ruins for everyone else. The Shire will be saved, but not for me.
And so, I'm choosing not to. On Earth, my choices were repeatedly taken from me, and I know that if I return, that will happen again and again; this time I am making my own choice.
I've spent the last couple weeks considering my options. I was never given the opportunity to pick my own method, not that I would have done even if they'd asked; I'd have simply refused to answer, but that means I'm limited to what the others chose and anything else already on the ship.
Yao's gun was my first thought. It's the simplest choice. Fast and easy. However, I've decided against it. First, when the derelict wreck of Mary returns to Earth in a few years, I don't want whoever boards her to find that mess. Second, I'm scared about it going wrong. I want this to be over painlessly, and I'm terrified that if I aim incorrectly, I could end up missing the crucial targets and dying slowly over hours, alone and in excruciating pain. That thought is enough to mean the gun is out of the question.
Then there's Ilyukhina's heroin. One big dose, a few minutes of utter euphoria, and I'm gone. It sounds alright really. I've never taken heroin before; I'd hope that's obvious, but I have been very heavily dosed with morphine in the past, and I remember how incredible that felt. The overwhelming pain I'd been in rapidly draining away to be replaced with the most peaceful, blissed-out couple hours of my life. The thought of feeling that again is actually quite warming. However, I'm also terrified of needles, have no idea how to calculate the dosage correctly so it's pleasant and not harrowing, and don't trust the medical systems onboard Mary to give me accurate information on that subject, as they're programmed to keep me safe, not help me OD, so I've decided against that too.
There are plenty of other options available to me: lots of blades, endless amounts of rope, and a veritable pharmacopoeia of poisonous chemicals in the lab, some of which I could easily adapt to have a pleasant taste. But none of those are fast and painless enough, so I've decided to go with Martin's choice: nitrogen asphyxiation. I'm opting to do it in the airlock rather than my EVA suit so I can lie down in comfort with my quilt and drift off listening to music. I've already created the playlist. There's nothing else left to do.
I check the taumoeba farms and tanks one last time and ensure Mary's automatic programmes are set up to manage them over the next few years, just as Rocky and I programmed them in case I decided to enter a coma; then I gather my things and make a comfortable bed inside the airlock. The only guilt I harbour as I work is knowing how much this would hurt Rocky, but I have assuaged myself that he will most likely never know. Even if the news did somehow reach Erid one day, it will be many decades into the future, and Rocky will be happily living his life with Adrian. He'll probably have mostly forgotten about me by then anyway, and even if he does hold onto pleasant memories of our short time together, I trust he wouldn't begrudge me the decision to end things on my own terms.
I take one last turn around the ship, checking that everything seems ok. In the dormitory, I pick up a shirt each that belonged to Yao and Ilyukhina and bring them with me. They still have the faintest possible odour of other humans, and I hope that will make me feel less alone at the end. I enter the airlock and seal the inner door, then take a few moments to look out of the window. The stars really do look beautiful; I'm happy they'll be one of the last things I see.
I settle down and get comfy, ask Mary to play my music, and rest with my hand on the switch that will gradually start to replace the oxygen with nitrogen. I only hesitate for a moment before flicking it; the only thing that changes is a faint hiss that is almost lost beneath my music. I lie back and close my eyes.
Everything goes red.
"Contaminant detected."