Beyond the Horizon: Abby and the Martian Mystery.

It was the ultimate no-brainer.

I mean, I was already going to Mars. There were only a handful of people on the whole planet who had ever been there. I was one of them.

But now I would have the chance to go again... for free. Free because my company wanted me to do a little marketing for them during my trip.

"We'll even give you a bigger room this time," my manager said. "More space to move around in."

That was it.

It didn't make sense at first. Why would they do that? Why would they pay me *more* than what the trip would have cost if it weren't a business trip?

I suppose it could be because I'm an introvert and don't like talking too much in public settings (which is ironic, since I'm an astronaut... but that's another story), but it occurred to me after being there for two weeks that they might want me to do more than just give a speech or two and take a few pictures with some fans.

They were probably looking for some sort of stress test; possibly even interested in how an introvert like myself would react when put in a situation where I'd actually have to interact with people. The fact that someone else had done this before meant they could compare my reactions to theirs and see if there were any notable differences. Or maybe they wanted to see if it effected my mental state in any way; maybe they wanted to see if I'd exhibit signs of depression as a result of being isolated for so long, or if being on Earth would cause me to go crazy from all of the stimuli (noise, light, etc.) around me. Either way, it made sense why they'd want me to go for free: anything involving human subjects requires institutional review board approval, and that costs money. So offering a bribe was probably the best way to ensure their study got approved without any raised eyebrows from the ethics committee or whatever other bureaucratic nonsense boards are called these days.

Yeah, that made sense...

But I wasn't stupid enough to think that they were just giving me a free vacation and nothing more. To be honest, I expected something like this and prepared myself accordingly: I brought along with me three books—two serious works of fiction intended to challenge my own critical thinking skills while also providing me with moral dilemmas with which I could relate on some level, while the third was more lighthearted but still thought-provoking (and intended as comic relief) in order to remind me that not everything is so black-and-white and serious all the time—and some other items: extra clothes, an expensive pen (the one kind of pen I don't care about losing), etc.. And of course, there was also my phone... which was loaded down with tons of music as well as audiobooks on topics ranging from physics over quantum mechanics to psychology over sociology to economics over politics... *everything*. Basically everything under the sun. All genres of music and literature are represented here; just about every book or album out there has its own playlist or audio version available somewhere online these days (or at least, it will have by the time this mission is over). If nothing else, spending two years alone on Mars will serve as a nice opportunity for self-reflection and personal development; hopefully allowing me to grow in ways I never imagined possible before setting foot on the planet's surface again. It's no secret that astronauts are often considered heroes—driven individuals who want nothing more than exploration itself—but sometimes even heroes need somebody *real* to talk with after slogging through hours upon hours upon hours upon hours upon hours upon hours upon hours upon hours upon hours upon hours upon hours upon hours upon hours of isolation day after day after day after day after day after day after day after day after day after day after day after day after day... you get the point...

I can handle it though; I know how boring space travel can be and not just because of boredom but also because of loneliness: some people are just better off staying home instead of trying something like this while others thrive off being alone away from society—"stuck" between worlds like Alice stepping through her looking glass into Wonderland—and such people couldn't imagine themselves living anywhere else than on their own at one point or another in their lives ("Spending two years alone on Mars will serve as a nice opportunity for self-reflection and personal development"). Of course, you can find solitude almost anywhere these days but traveling tens of millions of miles into space is perhaps one place where you have more opportunities than anywhere else simply because there aren't many other people around you at those particular moments in time (but don't get used to it: once you're back home again at your regular job or whatever else you do in life besides working for NASA or serving on spaceship crews as an astronaut, you'll notice pretty quickly just how much "social interaction" there really is everywhere you look—how many strangers seem intent on making eye contact with you wherever you go instead of minding their own damn business). People everywhere tend to forget sometimes that we're all just strangers passing each other by once every few decades before dying; living our lives while most everyone else around us only gets older until they eventually die (and then somebody younger takes their place)... then repeat ad nauseam until eventually one person stays behind while everyone else moves forward into whatever lies beyond this mortal coil we call life (and then he/she dies too). That's all she wrote folks! There's nothing left except an eternal void/silence filled with billions upon billions upon billions upon billions upon billions upon billions upon billions upon billions and so forth ad infinitum "of things" before all life ends forever (if it ever does end... who knows?). Looking at it from another perspective though—thinking about those distant stars out there surrounding us constantly throughout our lives like Christmas lights illuminated against pitch darkness—it makes sense why we're drawn toward them so often anyway despite knowing full well what we're doing when we stare up at them: isn't it funny how we always seem drawn toward that which doesn't lie within arm's reach? Maybe we're stupid for doing so but maybe we're not: perhaps there really is something out there calling us towards itself like some siren luring sailors toward her rocky shores beneath moonlit skies? Maybe we're not stupid after all? Maybe deep down inside our souls know something most other people don't? Maybe deep down inside our souls know what lies beyond death? Maybe deep down inside our souls yearn for eternity itself? Who knows... but anyway... where was I...? Oh right! The trip!