Oppy sometimes wonders if it’s lost.

The humans tell it that a visitor is coming. A younger sibling, they say.

They say this happily, a bit nervously. It thinks that they would be biting their nails if they could afford to.

Oppy has been travelling somewhere for a while, now. It wasn’t sure why, but it’s glad that the humans finally trusted it enough to tell it. Oppy is to stay close enough to get there quick, but far enough that it’s safe, until the pod lands.

It can see the pod—flying through the sky incredibly fast. Oppy does as the humans asked.

[BRACE FOR LANDING]

The pod gets closer and closer, like one of those lights in the sky except moving towards it. It’s been so long since Opportunity has seen anything other than red sand that it thinks that it’s almost beautiful.

[BRACE FOR LANDING]

The pod has stopped flying, but now hovers over the ground, just close enough for Oppy to see it. It’s getting lower and lower. A group of humans are holding their breath.

[LANDING IN THREE… TWO… ONE…]

The pod lands, and another little rover wakes up.

This rover’s name is Curiosity. It’s newer, shinier, fancier, and a lot bigger. It’s mechanics doesn’t click as much. It doesn’t take as much effort to get over the hills. Oppy can almost tell that it is taking in the red sand, the dust, the hills and the holes, just like Oppy did all that time ago.

Curiosity seems excited. It has grasped onto the concept of home. Oppy wonders if it has Spirit, but it realizes that it’s a stupid question. It’s not sure anything can have Spirit on this red home, but it thinks that considering how happy the humans sound, Curiosity must be the most alivest thing here.

They call it a wanderer, an explorer.

Oppy feels a click at that. It doesn’t want this bigger, better version of Oppy to be like it. It doesn’t want Curiosity to take pictures forever.

But then maybe Curiosity wouldn’t end up a success. Oppy hasn’t been a success yet, and hasn’t gone to sleep once. Maybe the other can be the same.

The humans want them to stay together for a little while, and Oppy is very happy about that. They say that Oppy will be the big brother, whatever that means. They say that it paved the pathway for Curiosity, and that it made it all possible.

Oppy doesn’t know that they’re talking about, but it doesn’t matter. The humans are happy, but for the first time, that doesn’t matter either.

Oppy is just excited to show its younger sibling Earth.

The humans made Curiosity leave, and Oppy is alone again.

That’s okay. It knew that it was bound to happen. Oppy wasn’t meant to be together. It was meant to be lonely, like the night sky.

But it misses Curiosity. It thinks that Spirit might have been like Curiosity. So excited. So wandering. It explored without being lost, not even once. Not like Oppy had been.

Oppy hopes that Curiosity likes the night sky as much as it does.

It thinks that the humans should bring it back home soon, because it’s sick of the sands and the dust. It’s sick of not being able to see, and when it can, only seeing the same things.

But the humans haven’t mentioned of bringing it home yet, so Oppy just roams on, taking pictures.

It roams for a very long time.

The sandstorm catches it by surprise.

It gets sand in its crevices, and Oppy wants to convulse at the thought of the sand being inside it, too.

The humans are worried, and Oppy can tell. But it’s actually kind of glad that it got caught up in the sand storm. Now they’d have to bring it home, wherever that is. Maybe it’s way to the top of the red place, over all the sand and taller and higher than any hill. Maybe that’s why they didn’t let it go up there.

It thinks that they’re gonna tell it any second, any moment. They’ll tell it where their home is. Maybe it’s way out there in the lights. Maybe that’s where it came from, where everything like it came from.

Oppy doesn’t dare hope that it’s on Earth.

But they never tell it where home is. They never even chide it for forgetting that the red place was its home.

Oppy waits, for a very long time. It stays very very still, trying to forget about the sand, to not feel as if it’s shrivelling away from the grains. It waits for the humans to say the words, “you’re coming home.”

They don’t talk to it again.

Oppy never knew just how lonely it could be.

It guesses it does, now.

It doesn’t take many pictures anymore.

There’s no point, and it’s not as if the red place is really beautiful, anyway.

Sometimes, Oppy feels lost.

All the times, it misses Curiosity.

It didn’t know that Curiosity was just beginning to see just how lonely it could be on the red home, too.

It didn’t know that every year, Curiosity sang itself a lonely birthday.

Curiosity didn’t know that Oppy didn’t even have that.

Oppy couldn’t sing at all.

One day, out of nowhere, Opportunity gets a contact.

After a long while of aimlessly wandering the red place, the humans have finally gotten through. They call it “the last communication.”

Oppy doesn’t know what last means.

The humans all sound sad. They must know. They know that Oppy has hated the sand with all of his being for a long time now, that it wants to go home.

But truthfully, Oppy actually doesn’t hate the sand all that much anymore. The rover’s been sapping away since the sandstorm, and there’s just not enough of it left to care about it. The sand isn’t even that red. Everything’s a weird shade of muted gray, and Oppy doesn’t mind. It’s too tired to feel anything but exhaustion and want, and all it wants is just to go home.

It’s getting ready for the humans to tell it that they’re coming. They’re sending another pod, and that it’ll take it home. Oppy is so happy to finally go home. It never wants to look at red again.

Instead they call it a success.

Oppy is nearly shaking as the humans tell it that it has roamed a planet called Mars for fifteen years—which must be synonymous for eternity. And when Oppy asks when they’re coming to bring it home, they don’t reply.

Funnily enough, the silence is all the answer it needs.

All that time wandering, exploring. And it would never find its way back home.

It would never even see its twin, Spirit. It would never meet Pathfinder and Sojourner, and tell them how lucky they are to have had each other in this lonely place. The red is seeping back into its vision, and Oppy is choking on dust.

It knows what success means.

It knows that it won’t be awake for much longer.

The humans are grieving before it’s even asleep. They’re telling it everything, from the moment it was created to now. They tell it about Spirit, who looked exactly like Oppy. They tell it what twins mean.

Oppy finally speaks. It asks for or about Curiosity. It’s not quite sure which.

The humans say that Curiosity is awake and exploring. And far, far away.

Oppy looks up at the dark sky getting darker.

The Earth is out tonight. It’s glad.

Oppy asks them what its name means.

They tell it.

Opportunity thinks that it is falling asleep.

It doesn’t mind. It thinks that the first sleep, on the way to the red place, was rather pleasant. And who knows, maybe it’d wake up again in another, better, less lonely home.

It hopes that Curiosity never comes near where it is right now, ever.

It hopes that maybe, one day, the humans would bring Curiosity back, and maybe Oppy, too.

The sky is so dark that the lights are shining blindly. Earth is luminescent, and beautiful.

The humans speak one last time. “You were a good wanderer, and a good explorer. You were a great success. Thank you, Oppy.”

Opportunity thinks one last thought.

My battery is low and it’s getting dark.

That’s okay though, because home looks closer than ever.