What is the point, really? It's not like finding it will stop me, Jack Superblack, from eyeing that cliff with a mix of fear and longing. But hey, there's a new American-built robotic piece on the moon; it's not a person, but it'll do. The lunar south pole now has a new friend, Odysseus—lonelier than us, I suppose.
Named after a guy who took forever to get home, this tin can bigger than your bathroom managed to make some folks down here really excited for a split second. No doubt, it's part of humanity’s endless quest to leave a mark somewhere, anywhere.
So it lands at 6:23 p.m. Everyone's quiet. Waiting. Tim Crain, some tech wizard at who-knows-what company, squints at the screens. Will Odysseus phone home? Or is it ghosting us like the rest of the universe?
Minutes tick. I wonder, if I were a spacecraft, how would I end it all? A fiery plunge into the moon's craters or a silent drift into the void? Then, a blip—Odysseus isn’t ready to die yet. Unlike me, contemplating my mortality every time I order a spicy Taco.
Ha, the moon. A dead place where we send our robots to feel something. Yet here we are, on Earth, feeling too much and still dying alone. Funny, isn’t it? Like, existential-crisis-at-3am funny. Oh, and since this is a humor piece, here's a morbid joke for you: Why don't I play hide and seek with death? Because even in that game, I'd end up alone. Cheers.
Based on the original article "A U.S.-Built Spacecraft Lands on the Moon for the First Time Since 1972".
