"And God said; let man infect my creation before he went and had his sabbath rest." I sarcastically spit as I look upon the rocket in which I'll be spending the next-however-long in space until I reach Earth's nearest, most habitual planet.

"Joan." My mother tsked. "Remember you're supposed to be happy and cheerful and all that team-building love." She laughs. I roll my eyes at her.

"ID?" A young security guard walked up to me. He was probably a couple of years older than me, doing some easy hours, trying to pay off his student debt.

"Gimme a second," I hold up a finger as I fish through my duffel bag and seize said ID card. Joan Enright. 16. Astronaut. Technician and Media relations. Level 7 security. With an impish picture of me next to it. The company logo watermarked underneath. I hold it out to the guy.

He takes it, scanning through the info. His face goes white and his eyes comically flash between me and the card. He flushes red and quickly hands me back the card. "My apologies, Miss Enright. Uh, have a nice day." He scurries off hurriedly. That's what happens when you try to trap one of the astronauts on this mission you butt. I think to myself.

My mother laughs, on the verge of doubling over. I looked her way and wait, after a while, she stumbles with me, wiping away tears in her eyes. "Oh my gosh, Joan. That was hilarious." She settles down and almost whispers. "I'm going to miss you so much."

"So am I mum." I say robotically, I draw my brows down, tip the lips of my mouth up and shape my eyes into a squint to appear like I'm going to cry. Pretend. Don't actually cry. "Please don't cry mum." I whisper, a lump forms in my throat.

"Okay." She says. "Okay, okay, I promised I wouldn't. I-it's just, I'm never going to see you again."

"Don't speak like that." I say sharply. "You'll see me on the computer screens and maybe one day, you'll be picked to come over." Ah yes, the reality to show that they're creating out of our trip. I'm manning the helm of Mars' side. Wonderful. How every moment of our colonisation is going to be broadcasted to another planet.

Mum shakes her head sadly. "I don't think so Joan, I do not believe that the Lord will bring us back together." My mother, the religious lady that she passed down to all of her children. I shut my eyes, sighing, swallowing down the lump that's forming doesn't work and it's making me appear weak.

"Well there's always FaceTime." I offer weakly.

"You've gotta go." She says, looking up at the rocket. "I'll be counting down to those moments until you do."

I give a final nod, she wraps me in a hug and doesn't let go until a few long minutes later. I rush to the check-in, looking at her one last time before I'm drawn into the chaos of pre-prep.

Somehow, I hold the feeling that I'm never going to see her again.