[WP] It's 2025. The Mars One mission is a complete success. One day while out on exploration, you find something shocking - the crash site of Malaysia Airlines Flight 370, missing since 2014.

"Oh, you'll see! Come on!", says Mike, pulling me by the hand. "What? Tell me!" I protest, while he drags me. "I can't tell you! You have to see it" So he drags me away, through the main hall, here and there dodging from the White Suits and the kids and in the crowd, all the way to the end in the hallway. From there we reach a hatchet. "Are you ready?" "We're going outside?" I whisper, between excited and a little scared. Mike is that kind of crazy soul. If he lived in the 50's, he'd be having knife-fights on parking lots, or doing that race car thing towards a cliff, where the first one to hit the brakes loses, you know? He'd be the guy with a convertible and the Ray-Ban glasses. The guy chewing gun. And I? I'm the lucky girl he chose. And I know I shouldn't. I know I should keep it cool and maybe even stop calling him every day, so he doesn't -- you know, think I'm so madly in love with him. Trouble is I'm so damn madly in love with him. "Go, go!" He says, guiding my hand and body towards the hatchet. I climb it and step outside, barely in time to put my helmet on. Mike follows me and we start walking through the red, windy landscape. "Where are we going?" I ask, looking around. "There is nothing in the outside!" "Chill out! You'll see, I told you!" Mike says. "It's awesome." We walk in silence for a while, enjoying the view. "enjoying" isn't really the right word here. Mars is crappy. Mars is a little old crappy broken down shitty Anytown - Solar System place. But -- hey -- my parents thought I would enjoy the 'one year experience', so here I am. Only good thing about this planet is Mike, I'll tell you. "We're here", he says, smiling from behind the helmet glass. He grabs my hand. "What? What am I looking at?" The answer to that question, from my perspective, is a big rock. "Behind it. Come." Mike guides me around it. I'm looking at him and I'm thinking: -- No. I'm not thinking anything else anymore. Behind the rock is an airplane wreck. "What... the... hell?" I whisper, more to myself than anyone else. "Cool, right?" "Where the hell did that come from? From where is it? Did you go inside?" I ask all these questions all at once, somehow. "I don't know! I don't know!" Mike answers, still smiling. "But it's pretty awesome, right? Let's go in!" "I'm not going in there!" I say, but already he's dragging me and -- crap. I follow. Why are people in love so stupid? "I think there's probably a... here it is." Mike finds a lever by a door and pulls it. The door hisses and smoke oozes from it. Then it lifts itself, ever so slowly. Inside is more smoke, and we can't see much more. "Come on", he says, stepping in. "Mike, I'm really not sure about this. Maybe we should go back. Maybe we should tell the White Suits about it. Maybe -- Mike?" I ask, because Mike disappeared inside the plane. "Damn it." I walk inside, carefully crouching away from the door. It closes behind me, with the same hiss as it opened. I turn back, startled. And then the lights come on. In front of me are rows and rows of passengers, dressed in leather and silk and suits and ties and dresses, all ready for takeoff. All frozen in the same position, eyes wide open, staring straight ahead at little screens that still play movies on repeat. A stewardess is frozen mid corridor, still pushing a food cart, her smile piercing me in a funny way. "Mike?" I ask, and my voice echoes through the place. No answer. "Mike?" I repeat. I notice an iPad in a man's lap, by my side. The man must be fifty, at least, and the iPad is still on. He was writing something, it seems. Or about to start. The iPad displays a single WORD document with nothing written in it. "Mike, let's get out of here. This place is creeping me out." I check the whole extent of the plane, down to the last cabin. No one. I mean, a lot of frozen people, but no sign of Mike. "Damn it, Mike, this isn't funny", I say, starting to panic a bit. I hate being in love. I would never have come here if I wasn't in love. You know what? Screw him, I'm leaving. This place is giving me the creeps. I'm leaving, I'm leaving, I'm leaving. He can meet me back at the dorms, later, I'll tell him that -- I freeze, almost at the door. By my side, the iPad man is still frozen, eyes facing the screen ahead of him. In his lap, his iPad is still running, the screen still bright and alive. The WORD document is not blank anymore. A single, 12-size, times new roman sentence reads: We are not dead. And then the lights go out.

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