‍ ‍

Chapter 1

The Object

Sunday, January 25, 2026

 12 Months Out

A bright line streaked across the sky the way light pans across a scratch in a black mirror.

"Make a wish," I muttered to myself.

But I didn't bother.

Wasn't in the mood.

I've been feeling alone in the universe lately. Not the melodramatic tortured poet kind of alone that makes for good journaling. The ordinary kind, not worth writing down. The kind that settles into the corner of the room and collects dust like every other piece of mismatched furniture from college.

The house was as dark and still as the evening outside. The muted TV in the other room flashed a commercial across the screen that brightened the room. A reflection of it bounced off the kitchen tile. I turned back to the half-washed dishes in the sink. The water in the basin had gone lukewarm while I was standing there and my hands were beginning to prune.

I do have a dishwasher; I just don’t always use it. Handwashing reminds me of my Mema. She didn’t have a dishwasher. She'd cook spaghetti every evening I stayed with her because it was all I would eat, and we'd wash the dishes together after dinner. Her washing, me drying with a dish towel that smelled faintly of pine.

Now I find the whole ritual cathartic. The warm water. The repetition. The way your mind empties itself into the task and drains with the dirty water. My Mema was a teacher, I think because of that, she had a way of guiding me that my parents couldn’t really. She was able to engage and soothe my curiosity rather than not knowing what to do with it.

Just then, something darted outside my window.

I swear, I saw a man running.

Past the corner of the house.

My stomach dropped. Goosebumps crawled up my arms and gripped my scalp as I threw my hand to my mouth. I saw the movement again. I refocused on my reflection in the window and waved my hand back and forth.

I sighed in relief and let out a half-hearted chuckle.

My face turned red even though there was no one around. I’d spooked myself.

My mind still tickled with apprehension, but I was pretty sure I had only wound myself up. I waved at the glass one more time just to make sure. It seemed it was so. My reflection and I leaned into each other as I tried to peak around the edge of the house for more comfort.

I saw nothing.

I examined the rest of the dishes and decided they needed to soak. I was just being lazy, but framing my procrastination as productive soothes the soul a bit. My phone called to me. I don’t mean to end up sitting on the couch and scrolling for so long, but sometimes I just need the moment of escape, but everything is so overwhelming, I never feel like I escaped at all.

I’m never sure if I control the algorithm or if it controls me. Sometimes something sits in my head for days and then suddenly it’s everywhere online like the internet read my mind first. Half of the time I don’t even like the experience, but I keep finding my fingertips slipping back to that little black rectangle.

Most times I am immediately lambasted with the worst news to ever grace the planet and then scroll up to see that some new word just dropped, and everyone is pretending they’ve always known about it and anyone who didn’t is a huge fucking loser.

And now, everything is referential, which I kind of enjoy, because it is comforting. But I am constantly craving something new, something interesting, and I couldn’t even tell you what it is. But I know when I see it, and it does scratch an itch. For a second, anyways. I can't decide if I find that comforting or exhausting.

Both, probably. Usually both.

I opened TikTok.

The first video was of this girl that I watch who is obsessed with Space. I appreciate her content because it’s concrete, it feels like she is one of the few content creators who adds clarity instead of making more noise.

Lately, I don’t know how to decide what is true online. But with Alexandra, I find a little comfort in just getting a space factoid and moving on with my life. She’s a real one for that. Who knew space news could be so grounding?

I lip-synced her opening line as I scrolled onto her video.

"Breaking Space News!" we said in unison.

"Artemis III, the first manned mission to the Moon since the 1970s has been delayed, again." Her voice piped through the speaker, warm and unbothered.

It's exciting to think we're revisiting the idea of Moon landings in my lifetime. I've always wondered why we stopped. I grew up in a world with an optimistic view of the future. Lately, that was slowly being whittled down. For some reason, despite all the other issues going on in the world, this gave me a little hope.

She ended the video with something smaller:

“In other Space News, on January 22nd, 2026, students from Stanford University discovered what could be a new dwarf planet or distant solar system object. We aren't certain yet, but it doesn't appear on any current catalogs in that region of the sky. For now, it's going by 2026 AB1. Just goes to show our neighborhood is getting bigger every day."

"Breaking Space News!" the video started to auto-replay.

I tapped the side button and the app disappeared behind my lock screen.

I set the phone face-down on the coffee table.

Outside, through the window above the sink, the sky was dark and still. I lay there looking at the ceiling for a while, the way I usually do, listening to the house settle.

Eventually I stopped listening and drifted off.