"In individuals, insanity is rare; but in groups, parties, nations and epochs, it is the rule."

- Friedrich Nietzsche.

2 pm, 11th of March, Saturday. 2541. The MHA.

She couldn't withhold her surprise any longer. Her hands started shaking as the hedges of the handcuffs were unexplainably swiftly removed. She was going to kill Stoll for this.

"Miss Acharya, do join us on the stage," the director orotundly repeated, an imperturbable spark in his eyes.

If he didn't kill her first.

The woman slowly walked towards the podium, hands behind as if still clasped by the handcuffs. Her fingers twitched and trembled, her eyes focused on the road in front of her as she otherwise confidently strode onto the stage.

The platform wasn't vast, and the ginormous monitor shone brightly and covered the entirety of the backdrop, making everyone onstage appear in radiance whichever colour it portrayed. She stepped onto the stage and skimmed over the pairs of eyes now scrutinizing her being. Undoubtedly, she felt nervous, because the question of what she was to do next lingered like a rising Sun, yet she also felt a burning apprehension from the knowledge of not only how much people there was, but also from whom they were, keen eyes and agile minds. The most anxiety she felt was not from whatever task she had to undertake (despite the dull rage somewhat unsettling her mind) but from a distant past she didn't wish to recall. Once, she had aspired to be like them. Still yet, that dream was gone in a desperate whirlwind of emotion, poverty and duty. It was over.

Stoll asked... Mr Stoll asked.

Talissa quickly tilted her gaze far enough to be interpreted as requesting a repeat of the question. The crowd was looking on.

"In light of recent occurrences, Miss Acharya will be revealing as much of her professional self as necessary. She would be open to any inquiries centering around the sufficiency of her qualifications for the position, as she will now confirm herself?"

"..the position,..." lingered in her mind as she again prepared for whatever was to come. She had been through the military module, which required spy training, and she was fast to realize that, perhaps, Stoll's behest was a test; yet, if her guess would be proven right, she would be shortly presenting herself as another person. Fortunately, spy training had included some of that.

She braced herself. The silence scared her. But the wait scared her more.

"I am Rikta Acharya. I am twenty-six-years-old, and my alma matter is Boston University. Though I lived in Americ for some time, I research at Cambridge, after being an exchange student there. My main research interests are PI-adparition (oh how she hated the subject that she "majored" in), probability theory (the old game) and relativistic stringity (finally, something worthwhile). As was known, I trained as an astronaut and hope to continue applying my interests to my astronaut job," even though she was disappointed at unintentionally mentioning the collocation "astronaut job", as she had two professions in real life, she was more concerned about the chip possibly glowing on the outside of her wrist.

You see, the gadget was purely a synthetic one, and it didn't cause any harm, carry and any metals posing a threat to the body or soul. It was automatically installed in everyone born to chip-bound mothers, acting as a special governmental alerter if important bytes were to be transferred.

By the infamous 2511 decree "on announcements of the utmost urgency" it had been issued, following the war waged in which a former mind, Lenne Darren, was killed. An all-rounded "chip-ification" was swiftly undertaked in order to alert the population of danger, if live, nearby. Now, the hardily removable chip was used for more dormitorial goals and carried by every child born from a chipified parent.

Talissa didn't waste time on worrying much about the issue: after all, it was made of harmless metal.

And she was correct. Following a transient amount of silence, questions started rolling on the stage. Obviously, the crowd had a lot of them.

"What was the goal of your leaving for Cambridge? Why didn't you continue your research in Boston?"

Taking just enough time for the people not to notice her hesitation, she replied:

"I felt more at home in Cambridge. In Boston they didn't accept me for a Phd until I said I was half-Engelish. Since the act of 2138 the social-economic relations between Americ and India have been quite strained."

The random person sat, comfortably satisfied with his remark. However, more inquiries followed.

"What controversies did you settle in your Phd thesis?"

"How many space missions have you been on and what research-based goal have you been working on through all of them?"

"Who was your Phd advisor? What use has he brought to the scientific community?" (a disdainful Leviathan asked this)

"What additional education do you have?"

"What business education do you have?"

"Does your business education have anything to do with marketing?"

"Do you have a marketing goal?"

"How many companies have you helped build?"

She had to answer all of these questions by herself, because the chip now told no more.

Fortunately, her spy savvy aided her in coming up with reasonable statements, and with time, what was left of her nervousness faded away. With certainty, Talissa answered every question with the keenness of a hawk. She demeaned akin to a bishop, ready to strike at whatever piece dared to cross its long chess range. Gladly, she had been taught to do this.

Suddenly, LowMind Lana Smith stood up. A frail woman in sight, her sharp gaze pierced through Talissa like a knife; she thought that this was one of the best gazes skilled at slicing her open like the morning sunlight in her room. It wasn't that she was afraid of the look the most; it was the apprehension of what utterance her mouth would say that made her own mouth fill with lead and mercury.

The rest of the crowd almost parted by habit when the figure stood up.

"What did you decide to participate in the Hope space program for, the goal of this commune?" Lana Smith said. Her tone nonchalance exemplary, the suppressed curiosity in her eyes nevertheless made Talissa's own interest kindle with new ardour.

Not without a bit of uneasiness, Talissa's hand rose to adjust her shirt collar and instantly stopped; she knew it was an impulsive decision, and that to be quite a rookie mistake. She quickly brought her hand down to normal and slightly raised her eyebrows as If to add some more "questioned dignity" to her improvised façade. Her eyes widened in surprise as soon as Mrs Smith finished speaking; then she gaze her astonished gaze a more cognizant look, as if she was engulfed in wistfulness; she even added a sad half-smile to finish decorating her newly romanticized face. Her pose shifted to a more sophisticated state and her stature rose, shoulders straightened and her gaze leisurely incorporating more determination.

"Despite the extensive historical period of governmental injustice and ignorance coming from the elite towards socioeconomical innovation, I am willing to suppose that, in light of the issue, crowds will be allowing of a new mission to take place in hundreds of years," Talissa said. She didn't smile. She held her gaze, all of their gazes directed upon her, noticing their undecided expressions; what face to take? What words to mouth? What thoughts to conceive?

But, those words were spoken straight from her heart, even if for a space mission, for another hope for a dream that had been never yet fulfilled until now. Perhaps that was also a test. To see how she would struggle if the hope was to be killed.

Be it killed or not, the woman was satisfied that she had said those words. It was a hard decision, yes, for if the response was to turn negative, her family would be saddened greatly of her death; however, she'd done so for the greater good. The minds of those judges would be forever clouded by the demise of an innocent lower-class who had stood up for her kind, despite her future.

And, perhaps, that cloudification would seep into mass media. And mass media meant undeniable success.

She stood there, holding her pause, when the government leader decided to interrupt.

"And that is why Miss Rikta Acharya is the best candidate for our job in the space mission. The space mission, as it is called, Big Hope, will consist of four crew members, each one taking a key part according to their specialty. Miss Acharya, seen as she has graduated in the quantum and astro- physics faculty, will be making the astrophysicist and astronomer of the list," he said, and Talissa looked at him with mixed feelings. He didn't reveal her real name. Then, a thought emerged: had this indeed been a test, or was she meant to continue being an Indidesh astronaut, despite, as a matter of fact, being fair?

"Applause, please," Stoll said, wearing a tight-lipped smile, and a measured round of applause erupted from the auditorium. Talissa wondered: why the crowds, not always frivolous or hypocritical, often followed cue from a person who spoke up and assumed authority; why did one feel quite inclined to do as the people beside one had done; what was the force that, despite pride, despite dignity, pressured men to follow suit of any person if the most did it too? There could always be a force, a notion holding them together, yet never was there a case of mass treachery in history without some community, and a crowd following it forward.

In spite of all common reason, it seemed fantastical. Politicians and scientists were never inclined to clap, only if to consolidate their authority, in fear of treading and tottering beneath the tantalizing spotlight they thought they deserved; however, here stood Howard Badeau, Aloïs Vigier, professor Loughty - all infamous physicists. Lana Smith, sitting eloquently cross-legged with her head high, clapped with one hand to the other. Talissa supposed that even if all these personages knew she was a Belwoman, they would continue clapping. Perhaps if she told them she'd been in jail they would applaud. Maybe even more. With their resentment heightening the clash from the applause.

She wasn't pleased with the approval. It felt ridiculous.

"Thank you. Now as for the other three astronauts, they have already been interviewed and are ready to be presented alongside Miss Acharya. Mr Skylar Gregory, Hawking computer scientist and Mendson Space Centre astronaut, back with us," a young man of 21 years rose from the chairs, fixed his collar and promptly advanced towards the stage, slow but sure in his movements. His mahogany hair was sleekly pulled back and his face was quite pale; yet his defiant stance stayed put. He didn't glance at anyone but Stoll upon ascending the stage; he shook hands and blandly filled a spot next to Talissa.

"Playing as the technician in our game of solutions, he will be regulating most technical parameters of the spacecraft," Stoll continued. "Since 2539, he has been nominated a number of times for the Nobel Prize in atomic physics and was candidate for a position in the same field in the Hawking Laboratory of Oxford, yet due to his young age, some matters are still in need of taking care of," Stoll stated, and claps ensued without cue.

Talissa noticed a slight twitch in Skylar's shoulders when Stoll mentioned the position of rocket scientist at Hawking laboratory; however, he milled it swiftly enough for the rest to see. He didn't look at anyone absolutely, his gaze stubbornly fixated on an empty spot. She thought he wished it to be over.

"Next we have Mr Ender Ignacio, fellow picophotonics and metaparticle projector and research engineer and astronaut of the World Happiness Organization. Was also nominated twice for the Nobel Prize in chemistry during 2534 and 2537, but has since suspended trying," Stoll announced, but no-one rose straight away. After a few seconds, a shadow slowly rose from stygianity and glided towards the stage, indifferent to another round of applause that ensued. It was Ender. However, in contrast to the darkness of his clothes, eyes and hair, his face was hued with right away the most vigorous shade of undiluted white. If Skylar had looked as if he had seen a ghost, the chemist looked as if he had been one, and hovered by as a part of his day job watching over live souls. Nevertheless, the man appeared nothing like Skylar; it was as if light had two meanings; the first, the embodiment of turbulence, the second encompassing nothing of the sort. There were two exemplars of white; one of strain and traction, the other of somewhat restricted omnipotence. And perhaps there wasn't meant to be an opposition between the two, yet in the latter case, one was opt to suppose so. The chemist exuded nothing but confidence while he took Stoll's hand, yet the programmer - shear in the air all around him.

"Mr Ignacio will be taking down with him the role of astrochemist and co-pilot of the spacecraft; an honourable job, and the second most needed one," Stoll averred, marking time until the applause allayed. The chemist solemnly took his place near Skylar and stayed, head held high.

"Now finally, we have Avin Hanlon, the commander of the mission. Please applaud for Mr Hanlon," Stoll said, and the crowd obeyed. Avin Hanlon came up, with the same ruffled hair and the same awkward smile.

"The commander of the mission, he had been specializing in spacecraft control since he won the Hawking award," Stoll said, tone neutral. "In 2538 he had completed his first long-distance flight on the current spacecraft in a three-manned mission, breaking the long-held cessation lasting 4 and a half hundred years," with that, applause followed, and the crowd looked on to the causer of the prior with more interest than on to the previous couple Nobel laureates. Even for Talissa it functioned as a little reminder of next to who she was standing, observing and living her own life before, and currently. Stoll, however, indifferently shook hands with the astronaut showing no approval or disapproval on his face and continued his idiosyncratic façade of prodigious adroitness in leading the assembly forward.

"Now, I would like to thank everybody present," he said, lightly skimming over the masses of scientists, government personages and politicians - expectant, but hanging on to his every word. Tensive silence filled all. Talissa's eye started twitching, but she wilfully stood steady, anticipation seeming to cloud every man's mind. Lana Smith had quietened, Avin Hanlon sighed in mild disquiet, Skylar - the youngster, - held his breath. Talissa could feel it all, became - the silence pained. It was as if no one knew what foul was to happen. Not even those who announced. That made it even more frightening. Perhaps her life wouldn't be the same anymore.

Now did she crave this change? Definitely, not. All those years of kindling a hope for something, subconsciously, but still kindling, didn't do her well. She definitely didn't. That fear of the future, that fear of being wrong and that fear of the unknown were the same as ever, old foes, or friends that scared one away from extra troublesome conquests. She hoped it wouldn't be a mission, she hoped that it would be something like going to the ISS and help building a new one - that was a ground-breaking event that would be spread globally - or conducting some short-term research in a short-term mission with temporal relocations back to Earth for the rechargement of health and batteries, and then going back for the research purposes in a place pleasant for observation. Perhaps it was a one-year job that the four of them had to take, to enlighten society with discoveries or something like that. She didn't want to do it, but she could if she had to, especially so that no one was questioning her, be it the right way or the wrong one. Perhaps she could then make more money that could be sent to her parents and be saved for the education of her younger sister, who too had a passion for astrophysics. Then she could meet them and pay visits to their house more, because the office job would indefinitely be postponed. She would get to see them only in the breaks between flights, which could not range longer than a few weeks, but in that short time, she swore to make the most of it, if the idea would happen with the mission. She would rebuild her relationship with her family.

She would get to help her family.

"You have all aided a great deal in helping the astronauts in preparing them for the upcoming questions more people will ask of them, judging by the response this assembly will receive in social media. But not only this you have helped us to do, you have also helped to advance a quintessential search infamous to all curious individuals, and to humanity in general. We have always known about the Quintessential Treaty, signed between all of the Minds, about the advance of science stopping behind the doors of the entities of outer space. After 4 hundred years of waiting, pent-up waiting, we can finally see if we are to be given a chance to indeed find what we are searching for. In millions we have sparked hope before now, of theories that could explain the Universe, of a entity existing above us that could only be explained as alien life, of civilizations out there, united in the utmost types of organization and equity, helping poor to achieve their freedom and the rich to be humbler. But now we may get to alleviate that deal, violate the Treaty that has been held on to for so long of an age in our short lifespans, and be free at last. And these, astronauts - they will get to lift the fog off of us. They will undertake a gruesome quest; one, that will, in spite, lead to the opposite result - a result that would gratify humanity. It is time. We have already broken it - with one mission a few years ago by one of the astronauts standing before you. We are to send them on a quest to find possibility of human life; on a planet, spotted by that mission, of the speaking name - Pax. They standing by your side will venture out to find if this planet is habitable and to relocate the forty-eight billion human population on its virgin ground. We have observed it. Jake Richards proposed it. It will be hard, take long, perhaps a few decades of years, but over the hundreds of years, our need has grown stronger. In a month, we will see four people border the MHA spacecraft with over forty space launch operators translated momentously over all over the globe and to determine when we could finally, save our world.

We will not fall."

Silence. Then everyone rose.

The bomb had been dropped.

Aliens be damned. Of course. How could she have missed it? Stoll was mentioned in the media! The hints, the collocations! Now she would never get to see her friends again and family, for a very long time! Never again! The pain of torment singed through her chest when the applause roared, people standing, people paparazzi finally given the chance to start screening and achieve extra credit for their newspapers (it was valued more if the photographer was a human). What she had feared had happened.

What for could one live without a family?