The Chosen Few

The results were undeniable.

My name stood at the top of the leaderboard, bold and absolute.

There were no cheers. No congratulations.

The others looked at me as if I had torn apart the very fabric of reality.

I had seen this expression before—on criminals who had just been outplayed, on skeptics who had just been proven wrong. Disbelief, frustration, denial.

But the numbers did not lie.

Mr. Angel had won.

No one had to like it. They just had to accept it.

A NASA official, clad in a sharp navy uniform, stepped forward. His voice was firm, impassive.

"Congratulations. You have been selected as the astronaut candidate for this section."

It wasn't a question.

It wasn't up for debate.

The room was dead silent. The European man clenched his fists, his shoulders trembling as if he wanted to speak, to protest, to deny reality itself.

But he didn't.

Because he couldn't.

The official turned on his heel and gestured for me to follow.

I did.

The corridor was pristine, the air thick with sterilized efficiency. As I walked, I caught glimpses of other candidates being led in the same direction.

We stopped before a large, reinforced door. With a swipe of a badge, it hissed open, revealing a chamber filled with people.

I stepped inside.

The winners.

Each of them had conquered their respective sections—the best astrophysicists, the finest engineers, the elite medical experts. They stood scattered across the room, wearing expressions ranging from exhausted satisfaction to quiet contemplation.

I assessed them for a moment, but in all honesty, I couldn't care less. They were strangers and I had no interest in learning about them right now.

That was until I saw him.

Elliot.

He emerged from another entrance, his gaze scanning the room before locking onto mine. His expression flickered between shock and excitement, before he tried to smother it and return to his usual composed demeanor.

Yet I could see it in his eyes.

The fire of victory.

He had done it.

I moved toward him.

"You made it," I stated, not as a question, but as a fact.

Elliot scoffed lightly, though there was a faint trace of pride in his voice. "Barely. I passed by the skin of my teeth."

I tilted my head. "A win is a win. No one remembers how close the race was—only who crossed the finish line."

He exhaled, shaking his head. "You're… impossible, you know Mr. Angel?"

I smiled. "I get that a lot. Also, keep your head up, someone's walking in." I said, as my Instinct skill informed me.

He opened his mouth, perhaps to say something else, but then—

The door at the front of the chamber swung open.

A presence filled the room before the man even stepped forward.

Authority.

Power.

A figure clad in a meticulously tailored suit walked in, his very existence demanding attention. Silver at his temples, lines of experience etched into his features, yet his posture was strong, unwavering.

Every conversation in the room ceased.

He owned the silence.

And then he spoke.

"Welcome."

Calm but firm, his voice echoed across the room with the weight of importance.

"You stand here today because you are the best in the world at what you do."

A pause.

"You have demonstrated your worth. You have outperformed the others thanks to your brains, fortitude, talent, and discipline. At this point, you will join something bigger than yourself.

He looked around the room, evaluating each of us.

"This is NASA. An organization founded on the unrelenting quest of completing the impossibly difficult. On the unwavering will to push past the limits of what humanity thinks it is capable of."

He stepped forward steadily.

"And now, we embark on our next great endeavor."

A screen behind him flickered to life, displaying an image of Mars.

A world of rust and rock.

Empty. Desolate.

Untouched.

"Many have looked to the stars and dreamed. But dreams alone do not take us forward."

His eyes, sharp as knives, locked onto the room.

"We are not here to dream."

"We are here to conquer."

The room remained utterly still.

He let the weight of his words settle before continuing.

"This selection process was not just about choosing the best individuals. It was about choosing pioneers. Those who will not only survive the unknown but shape its future."

His hands clasped behind his back.

"The mission is simple."

The screen changed. Diagrams, plans, projections of what was to come.

"We will take humanity's first steps on Mars. We will establish the foundation for a permanent presence. And you—" he gestured toward all of us, "—will be the ones to make it happen."

Another pause.

His gaze shifted.

And then, he turned to me.

His expression unreadable, yet measured.

"As for you…"

The room seemed to shrink, all attention converging on where I stood.

"You shattered expectations today. You defied every assumption placed upon you. Whether that is a gift or a curse remains to be seen."

He took a single step forward.

"But tell me, Mr. Angel…"

A moment.

A pause, heavier than any before.

And then, with a steady voice, he asked—

"Are you ready?"