The 4th Sol
Episode 78 of The
Scene: Standing by the Marker on a Martian desert plain
The astronaut stood alone on the red plain, dust curling around his boots like something alive. The sign he’d planted three days earlier still stood upright, its lettering stark against the Martian horizon:
THE 4TH SOL — ARRIVAL + 3 DAYS
He didn’t remember writing it.
He didn’t remember why he’d written it.
Behind him, the rover hummed quietly, its systems running diagnostics he hadn’t initiated. The sun hung low, casting a long, thin shadow that stretched far too straight across the uneven ground.
He checked his oxygen. He checked his comms. He checked the sign again.
Something about the date felt wrong.
The Routine
Mission protocol dictated a strict schedule:
Sol 1: Habitat setup
Sol 2: Geological survey
Sol 3: Rover calibration
Sol 4: Begin deep‑range exploration
He had done all of those things.
He thought he had.
But the logs in the rover didn’t match his memory. Sol 2 was missing. Sol 3 was duplicated. Sol 4 had two entries, both timestamped at the same moment.
He tried to radio base.
Static.
He tried again.
A whisper answered — faint, rhythmic, like someone breathing through a cracked visor.
He shut off the comms.
The First Signs
The landscape had changed.
Not dramatically. Not violently. Just… incorrectly.
A ridge he’d surveyed yesterday was now a smooth slope. A boulder he’d marked with a beacon was gone. The dust patterns around the rover formed spirals he didn’t remember walking through.
He checked the sign again.
THE 4TH SOL — ARRIVAL + 3 DAYS
He felt a chill despite the suit’s thermal regulation.
He had only been here three days.
Hadn’t he?
The Realisation
He returned to the habitat.
The door was open.
Not forced. Not damaged. Just open, as though he had stepped out moments ago.
Inside, everything was exactly where he’d left it — except for the mission clock.
It read:
Sol 19
He blinked. Reset it. Rebooted it. Checked the backup.
All of them said the same thing.
Nineteen days.
He checked the food stores. Half empty.
He checked the water. Lower than it should be.
He checked the sleep logs.
There were sixteen entries. None of them in his handwriting.
The 4th Sol
He stumbled back outside, heart pounding, dust swirling around him like a living veil. The sign stood exactly where he’d planted it.
But the lettering had changed.
THE 4TH SOL — ARRIVAL + 19 DAYS
He backed away.
The sun dipped lower. The shadows lengthened. His own shadow split at the edges, as though something else stood beside him, just out of sight.
He turned toward the rover.
Someone was sitting in the driver’s seat.
Someone wearing his suit. Someone with his posture. Someone who turned its helmet toward him with slow, deliberate precision.
He froze.
The figure raised a gloved hand and pointed at the sign.
The lettering shifted again.
THE 4TH SOL — ARRIVAL + 20 DAYS
YOU SHOULD NOT BE HERE
The figure in the rover vanished.
The sign remained.
The dust whispered.
The astronaut realised, with perfect clarity, that he had never left the 4th Sol.
He had only been repeating it.
And something else had been repeating it with him.
Those little green men…