176 Direct

Caleb looked out the viewport at the barren, red horizon. He realized he had never left Earth at all. 💡

The digital counter on the airlock door ticked down to . Caleb checked the seals on his gloves one last time. For 176 days, he had lived alone in the Automated Research Outpost on Mars. The supply ship was scheduled to arrive today. He pressed the release button. 🌌 The Loneliness of Mars Day 1: Caleb arrived with high hopes and a team of robots. Day 50: The dust storm severed communication with Earth. Day 100: He began talking to the hydroponic tomatoes. Caleb looked out the viewport at the barren, red horizon

Underneath the number, a line of text scrolled by: Test 176 Complete. Cognitive endurance within acceptable parameters. Initiating extraction sequence. Caleb checked the seals on his gloves one last time

As the airlock hissed and the heavy door slid open, Caleb did not see a supply ship on the landing pad. Instead, a small, silver capsule sat in the red dust. 📩 The Message He pressed the release button

Caleb pulled the capsule inside and cracked it open. There were no fresh supplies, no spare parts, and no letters from home. There was only a small digital interface that lit up with a single number: .

The primary oxygen scrubber failed, forcing manual repairs every six hours.