My dear love,
It is difficult to say
what I have to tell you. But you must know. This is why I'm writing
this letter, coward as it may be.
I love you. I have always
loved you and been at your side. We have been happy all these years
together, notwithstanding the problems in this dying Earth. But in
the last ten years life has become ever and ever tougher. Scavenging
something to eat, struggling to find a
job... even that is nowadays an
insurmountable task. And finding fuel to
heat the house in winter is almost impossible. Not to talk about the
constant need to dodge the fate, to outwit the death, following you
into every street, lurking behind an
unknown face. And all that violence... I am worried for our surviving
children, for our grandchildren. Is this the
world we leave them?
But let's get to the
point. What was that I had to tell you? Do you remember when we used
to look at the sky so many years ago? I showed you the constellations
and talked you about the stories, the Greek myths, they concealed.
“Do you see that constellation like a bow-tie? It's Orion. It
encloses in its heart the most beautiful nebula, the horsehead
nebula. One of nature's masterful works of art, decorated with cyan
stars and rose clouds of hydrogen gas.” Ah, “Space, the final
frontier.” History hasn't followed the path of Star Trek films...
Do you start to understand
where I'm getting at? The ISS HANIWA, the last hope of humanity. Yes,
I admit it, I have handed in my application. Yes, I am old, and it
will be excruciatingly painful to depart from all of you, to depart
from you. Which where those verses by Ausiàs March? “Així
com cell qui es parteix de sa terra, / ab cor tot ferm que jamés hi
retorn, / deixant amics e fills plorant entorn / e cascú d'ells a
ses faldes s'aferra / dient plorant: 'Anar volem ab vós. / Oh, no
ens deixeu trists e adolorits!' /e l'és forçat aquells haver
jaquits: / ¿Qui pot saber d'aquest les grans dolors?”1,2
But I have to go. I need to do something useful while I still have
some years of life left. I cannot live any more in this desperation.
Someone has to remind those few people selected to embark on this
adventure that many more will be left behind. Partners and friends,
brothers and sisters, parents and children... Something must be done
to tidy up this old Earth a little bit.
I don't know yet if I have
been chosen. If I am among the elected ones, this will be my personal
mission: to make sure the discoveries and successes of this travel
are used to improve the world we are leaving behind. In the end, as a
scientist, this has always been my aim. If I am not elected, I will
continue to fight beside you for a better life, for as long as it is
possible. In any case I am rooted to the Earth and bound to you. It
won't be difficulties nor distance that will
break these ties.
I love you. Always.
1English
translation by Angela Buxton: “Like the one who leaves his
country / with the heart determined never to return, / leaving
friends and children weeping, each one holding onto his legs /
crying: 'We want to go with you. / Oh, don't leave us sad and
sorrowful!' / and he is forced to leave them: who can know this
one's great suffering?”
2French
translation by Miquel Pujadó: “Semblable à celui qui
abandonne sa terre / décidé fermement à ne plus jamais y revenir,
/ laissant ses amis et ses enfants pleurant autour de lui, / et qui
s'accrochent à ses habits / disant en pleurs: 'Nous voulons partir
avec vous. / Oh, ne nous laissez pas tristes et endoloris!' / et il
est forcé de les abandonner: / qui peut savoir les douleurs que cet
homme-là éprouve?”
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