Here it was. Everything Alfred ever wanted was right before him, right in his grasp.

But he didn't want it like this.

Far, far away was a little blue speck shined on by a relatively average sized star and there was nothing left on it. Alfred stood in his ship, locked in an outfit made to prevent the bad chemicals of the planet he would land on leech in and poison his veins. He stared at that small speck and held his hands towards it. In the crevices between his fingers the darkness of space leaked through. Stars poked holes of light in it.

Alfred closed his fist and leaned against the window, preparing for hyper-space to consume him and propel him through the galaxy. Beside him was a collection of old science fiction books. Most were written by men who had died long before going out to the stars seemed even remotely plausible. Some stories told of humanoid aliens coming to earth to commute and finding the actual humans scary and savage.

Other stories were about dystopias with dreary skies and drearier people. Alfred had already read through all of them twice, at least. Three months of travel can wear a man down, he realized.

His mama wouldn't have wanted him to be out here all alone, but mama wasn't there to judge his actions. No one was. He was the last human being and nobody could congratulate him on that. No one was there to shake his hand and pat his back.

"Hey, congratulations, Alfred F Jones! You're the last man in the universe. We're real proud of you!"

Corpses and ashes couldn't be proud. Alfred learned that the hard way. The depths of space engulfed him and hurled him through hundreds of light years. The greatest contraption of mankind was right around him.

...

Many, many years ago when Alfred's head barely reached his mother's hip-height, he dreamed of this. His cardboard boxes stood erect in his backyard, shivering in the wind. He stood on a tree branch, wearing safety goggles and rubber gloves.

"Here I come, aliens! I fight for Earth!" He cried and hopped on a rope, sliding safely down and racing through the backyard, his hands stretched out on either side of him. The sun glared down, catching in his lenses and glistening like a tiny star.

Mama watched in the window, hoping that he really would be able to sit in a vessel and roam the universe. She died five years later.

Alfred was thirteen and even then he didn't understand what was happening. A moment ago he was a space man, the next he was a sad man. He placed a bundle of pink and white flowers on her casket, tears sliding down his cheeks.

"Mama, I don't want to be alone." He said, touching the mahogany a final time until faceless men picked it up and buried it below the earth.

Three years later Alfred graduated from high school with higher grades than the rest of the nation combined. He smiled, his teeth still freshly without braces or metal of any sort. Other students looked on jealously. They wouldn't have if they knew where Alfred would be. Or maybe they would. Who knows, people are such peculiar beings.

...

The rocket slowed and Alfred stood, going over to the automated controls and checking on every dial and every screen. Everything was perfectly in shape.

He wished it wasn't.

...

"Alfred F. Jones, we have a job for you," the huge man said, holding a stamped envelope towards Alfred.

"I accept it, sir." Alfred said, taking the yellow papers that now meant nothing. Inside were the words spelling his doom and fulfilling his ambition. "Mama would be proud."

"I'm sure your mother would be the proudest any mother would ever hope to be." The man smiled toothily and patted Alfred's shoulder. He was only seventeen.

So he led Alfred into a room crowded with the world's leading scientists and engineers. They greeted him happily, their lips parted in a smile.

...

Alfred smiled to his reflection. His teeth had lost their vigor. He gave up on brushing them two weeks ago. The planet he was destined to land on was only an hour away, now.

...

So the team instructed Alfred. They made him memorize every detail of the ship, every equation, every little piece of matter that made it up. Alfred did so eagerly, consuming the information without trouble.

"This will be the greatest achievement of mankind! You'll be the first to use hyper-drive and the first to go to a planet similar to earth!" A plump, comely, and brilliant woman declared.

"If it's so great than why do we need the suit?" An intern asked.

Alfred chuckled, rolling his eyes. "We don't know if it's good for sure. We just have to see."

Alfred was set to go with a team of ten when he turned twenty one.

...

Alfred looked at the calendar in the compartment that was his room. His nineteenth birthday was today. He patted the square clock that counted down the earth seconds, minutes, hours, days, and years.

...

The team trained for hours each day. Though the date of take-off was still four years away and the capsule was only two-thirds done, they needed every moment to prepare.

When Alfred came home to his apartment he picked up a picture of his mama. "Aren't you proud, mama?" The apartment was cramped and cluttered. He could have afforded a mansion with what he was being paid for the expedition, but he didn't want one. He would be in space. Who needs a mansion with a fancy pool in space?

...

"Prepare for landing in five minutes!" Alfred called to no one in particular, sitting in the captain's seat and looking around at the sea of blinking and buzzing controls. It was meant for eleven people, not one.

...

The bad news came when Alfred was eighteen and the final touches were painted on the ship. One of his teammates, an exceptionally fit middle-aged man, nearly tore the door down with how hard he knocked.

Alfred jumped off of his bed and scrambled to the door, pulling it open and looking in shock.

"You have to go, you have to go right now. A missile has been launched on accident! It's going to wipe us all out in a minute! You're the only one who can handle the ship alone!"

The news shocked him into silence. He had fallen asleep in jeans and a t-shirt so he was already bolting out of the door after the man.

"What do you mean? Why can't you come along!?" Alfred called.

"I'm the only one alive! Last night some spies invaded our lab and killed all of them!"

"Then why can't you come along?"

"Someone needs to launch the ship!"

They raced into the building. Alfred tried to ignore the bloodied corpses along the floor but found he could not. He started to cry, but his partner told him to man up as he shoved him into the ship with one of his suits.

"Go on, go on!" He slammed the door shut, sending Alfred tumbling back.

"No—no!" Alfred started to cry. He realized then that being alone was much worse than dying of an explosion he knew nothing about.

"Lift of in…" Alfred couldn't hear the rest as he pulled the suit over his head.

The world spun before him, everything was so surreal, like a dream. At any moment his head would break the surface and he would be waking to the beeping of his alarm clock, ready for another day of training and calculating. Alfred wandered around the room before remembering what he was constantly told and finding the room designed for take-off.

The seats were heavy and heavily buckled. It took Alfred nearly a minute to completely bind himself on it.

"Ready?" The man's face came up on a board before them. His brown eyes were wide and pleading. Beads of sweat ran down his forehead.

Alfred nodded.

"I'm scared."

"So am I. Good bye, Al." the image turned off and Alfred closed his eyes, not wanting to see the lift off.

...

Alfred landed and stepped out of his ship, still connected to a tube supplying oxygen that would fill his lungs that did not want to breathe that would in turn nourish a heart that did not want to beat.

The dusty land before him whispered in the wind. In the distance a green, lush forest came into view. He had found paradise well above earth. He chuckled dryly at the irony. He walked towards it slowly, his feet coming down with the pace of a snail. The azure sky above him reminded him painfully of home. The winds were warm. Creepers dug into the sand or into the silver ribbon of a creek in the distance. Alfred clicked off his helmet, letting his lengthened hair loose and the stubble of a beard breath. Exotic wildlife twittered.

"Mama, I wish you were here."


I do not own Hetalia. "Wish You Were Here" is from the Pink Floyd song. I don't own that either.

An alternate title can be: The Kingdom of Paradise