A month after liftoff, I had traveled over 17 million miles, farther than any other person before. My ship was aptly named Horus after the ancient Egyptian god of wisdom. Horus itself means "falcon" and it seemed a suitable name for such a high-flying mechanical beast. I suppose now is as good a time as any to talk about my daily routine, monotonous as it was. In the first place, the human body atrophies in the absence of gravity, particularly the muscles and bones. To counteract this, I did cardio on a exercise bike for several hours per day in 15-minute sessions. It wasn't just for exercise as my pedaling also helped charge the ship's batteries, albeit very slowly. The main power came from a nuclear thermocouple. The heat of the radiation produced electricity, sort of like the way an electronic thermometer reacts to body heat when you put one under your tongue.
To keep my body strong, I did squats, deadlifts, and bench presses using a bar attached to the wall with elastic resistance bands. It was a simple way to substitute the effect of gravity given that it was too difficult to spin the ship in order to create a centripetal acceleration. In order to economize cargo space, I was allowed to fatten up in the months preceding the launch. Over the next two years, I had to be careful to lose an exact amount of fat per month. A scale wouldn't work in zero gravity, so I had a small device that measured by body fat percentage via electric impedance. I was 33% fat by mass on launch day: quite corpulent. I had the same body fat percentage as a blue whale, though in a much smaller package. One month later, I was down to 32% fat; right on schedule just as had been planned. I was on a fairly lean diet of 2,000 calories per day. To save space, all my food was freeze-dried. I measured by daily water use carefully as that was my most precious commodity after air.
My basic ration was bran flakes which contained just about all the vitamins and minerals I needed plus a healthy dose of fiber. I took a concentrated vitamin D pill once per week as well. For protein, I had supplies of modified pemmican, a survival ration invented by polar people and later used by explorers to the north and south poles. The recipe was modified to include olive oil, shrimp, and whey protein isolate. The cargo bay held thousands of miniaturized sandwiches about the size of a sugar cube. Of course, they were not nearly as tasty as a real sandwich, but they provided a welcome break from bran flakes and pemmican. I would warm them up in the ship's microwave oven so I could have a hot meal once in a while. What goes in must come out eventually, and so when I had to answer the call of nature, machines would recycle the water from my waste before ejecting the rest into space. The engineers had accounted for the change in weight. Even though the strength of gravity on Mars is only about 38% that of earth, every gram that got discarded on the way would make it easy to escape the red planet's gravity well.
At my distance from earth, any message I sent would take about 90 seconds to get there and the reply would take the same amount of time to reach me. For that reason, I communicated mostly by text, which used less power and was more efficient than voice. Once a week or so, I'd send a receive a few short voice messages. The NASA psychologists had determined that this was essential to my mental health, as cumbersome as the whole procedure was. In my spare time, I'd listen to music, watch movies, and play video games. That part was not much different than my life on earth. Being a bachelor an introvert, I was well-suited by personality to the rigors of space travel. A less glamorous and often neglected aspect of space travel is housekeeping. Every so often, I would turn on a large fan to filter the hair and dead skin out the air. Even though I did my best to breathe through my nose, being in such a confined space for so long required a form of ventilation. I'm sure the inside of the craft stank, but when it's just one person, you get used to the smell, and there is no one else to complain about it.
Speaking of interpersonal conflict, a cosmonaut named Solovyov said that if you put two men in a small room, all the conditions necessary for murder are met. For that reason, it was decided that a solo journey was the safest bet. As a creative outlet, I had an Etch-a-Sketch toy. I took photos of the creations I was most proud of and radioed them to earth. After many hours of practice, I was quite an artist. A copy of one of my works was displayed in a museum for a time. Many times, I got questions from random people asking how I was and wishing me luck. Magellan's voyage took three years, but he had a whole crew to help him and keep him company. Plus, they were able to walk on land every few months. I had none of those luxuries, but technology made my predicament bearable. Elmer remained by steadfast and silent companion. It was soothing to stroke his artificial fur. There were very few soft things on the vessel, and I had to strap myself into my bed to sleep.
I hasten to add that the view outside was quite boring, though I felt lucky to see the stars from such an exotic perspective. As far as space navigation goes, there wasn't much for me to do as the ship was basically on autopilot for the whole trip. I used the computer to study the geography of the landing site. I would have the luxury of a rover, and so would not be able to stray far from where I landed. In any case, the purpose of the mission was to prove the feasible of a manned voyage to Mars and long-term survival on its surface.
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