Jefferson found comfort in knowing that death awaited him.

 

He relaxed in his chair and stared at the vast darkness of space outside the window. The ship would approach the Eagle Nebula soon. It would be the last thing he ever saw.

 

A chime sounded, and the door frame illuminated in blue. The door slid open and Jefferson’s nurse entered his quarters.

 

“We’ll arrive at the jettison point in 45 minutes,” the nurse said. “I’ll take your vitals one last time.”

 

“Why so much trouble to see if I’m alive if the whole point is to kill me?”

 

The nurse ignored him and attached her monitoring probe to his temple. Satisfied with her readings, she asked, “Do you mind if I ask you a question before you go?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Your illness, well, it will kill you…”

 

“I know that!” Jefferson said, annoyed.

 

“Of course.” The nurse shifted in her chair. “I was just wondering why now? You could still live for another two or three years.”

 

“Oh, that.” Jefferson’s lips tightened. “This illness took everything from me. Every time I go to bed, I wonder if I’ll wake up. Every time I cough, I think it’s the end. Every time I feel pain, I think I’m going to die.”

 

He covered his eyes with his hands and exhaled loudly. “I kept looking at their faces and wondering if it was the last time I would see my family. That was killing me more than this damn illness. No one should live like that.”

 

“I’m so sorry.”

 

Jefferson straightened. “The one thing I can control is this decision - how it ends. I want you to put me in that capsule, shoot me into space, and deliver that lethal gas while I take in the nebula.” His voice was thin. “I can’t think of a better way to go. Your company does a great service.”

 

“Of course.” The nurse stood up, touched Jefferson on the shoulder, and walked out of the room.

 

Thirty minutes later, Jefferson convulsed in a coughing fit while they strapped him into the sleek metal capsule. The nurse held his hand until he recovered, then pulled away so the glass encasement could seal completely. As the capsule lifted into position, Jefferson noticed the word “stop” scraped into the metal near his ear.

 

He felt a light sense of falling before darkness embraced him. Microthrusters broke the silence and kept his view oriented toward the luminescent nebula.

 

“The pillars of creation,” Jefferson said. The beauty of the nebula and the sudden realization that he was in his last moments combined like a wedge to split his callous shell. He wept uncontrollably.

 

* * *

 

A sudden scream jolted Jefferson awake. He shielded his eyes from the bright lights overhead, then squinted to observe his surroundings. He lay on a metal floor in a small room.

 

The scream came again. “Why aren’t I dead?” a woman said. “Where is this? What happened?” Jefferson considered the questions himself.

 

As his eyes adjusted, he noticed the legs of a table and those of a person on the other side of the room. “Hello?” he said and stood quickly.

 

“Hey, newbie,” a bearded man said without interest. “Start cleaning!”

 

Jefferson shifted his attention to the man’s hands, which were polishing a metal casing that rested on a workbench. “Clean?”

 

“Clean, clean!” the man said. “Before they…”

 

Jefferson’s body ignited with pain as if all his tendons had simultaneously snapped. His fingers curled inward, his arms arched backward like wings, and he slammed onto the floor motionless. The pain subsided instantly.

 

“Get up!” the bearded man urged. Jefferson jumped up and stared at him, wild-eyed.

 

“Grab that disc over there and learn your job fast. The pain gets worse the longer you mess around.”

 

Jefferson snatched the disc and scrubbed the metal casing in the same circular motion as the man.

 

“Are we dead?” Jefferson asked.

 

“We’ll never be dead. This is it.”

 

“What do you mean? Never dead?” Jefferson stopped working.

 

“Work, you idiot!” the man shouted.

 

Jefferson continued to polish the metal. “I thought I had died,” he said sadly.

 

“You’ll never die. You’re full of nanos now. If you get out of line, they’ll fire up hotter and hotter. The pain is unbearable.” The man continued to work.

 

“Where are we?”

 

“We call it Trinia, and we call them Trins ‘cause they got three legs. We’re slaves. You’ll see them soon enough.”

 

“Trins? What? How did I get here?”

 

“You jettison?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“That’s it then. Those bastards hide around the big four - Lagoon, Trifid, Eagle, and Omega. Everyone here jettisoned. They snatched our capsules, replaced our blood with nanos, and brought us back to life.”

 

Jefferson dropped the disc. “I don’t want to be alive!” Within seconds, he felt a searing pain afflict his body. He crumpled to the ground, but the pain intensified. His arm split open before his eyes. Then the pain subsided.

 

Minute nanos crept out of his exposed vein and resealed his arm to perfection. Jefferson stumbled to his feet, picked up his tool, and continued to polish. He worked diligently and silently on each component that he received, only realizing after a few hours that they were parts of a jettison capsule. The Trins were restoring them.

 

When Jefferson received what he recognized to be the interior capsule lining, he paused. He reached for the sharpest implement he could find and etched the word - “Don’t”.