Why a Sentient Satellite Left Me in Tears

 I have never been a fan of sports. I appreciate the skill and strategy that goes into a game of basketball or golf, but I will most likely never spend the time or money keeping up with the latest news in baseball, or clambering to find tickets for a hockey game.

Football has to be one of the sports I dislike watching most. Again, due to my perception of it, and nothing to do with the actual people or content of the sports. However, a story about a never ending football game and a frightened interstellar being has managed to give me a new perspective on not just football, but the American Dream and lifestyle as a whole.

17776, described as a "serialized speculative fiction multimedia narrative" by Wikipedia, was created by Jon Bois in 2017. At this point in time, I can't even remember how I found out about it, but it was most likely via a Reddit post or Youtube video essay. I highly encourage you to read it, and you can find the story here.

If you don't have the time to read it, or if you simply aren't interested, that is completely alright. I'll try my best to explain without giving away too many details, but if you ever change your mind, it is truly a one-of-a-kind story.

Here we go:

Imagine this. In a split second, a spark of conscience wakes up, unaware of where it came from or where it is. There is no light, no sound, just what seems to be absolute nothingness. However, this tiny bit of awareness with no apparent form has the ability to call out into the void. It knows that something is incredibly wrong, but can't quite point it out. Nevertheless, with an awareness of time similar to that of a human, it watches the months and years go by, waiting for an answer. 

The patience finally pays off, for an answer appears. It talks about having to conserve energy and memory, but finally, prolonged communication is possible. Two other voices of conscience appear, calling themselves Ten and Juice, and they tell the initial spark of conscience that it is named Nine. Nine is understandably freaked out, trying to pinpoint a meaning behind these sudden events. Ten tells, or appears to remind Nine that they can take a look at themselves, and encourages them to do so. Nine suddenly realizes there's a screen they have access to, and looks into it, finding a grainy image that appears to be looking at their form. Nine realizes their true identity: they are indeed, the Pioneer 9 Space Probe, launched in 1968.

Yeah... 

But please stick with me for a minute.

Sentient space satellites aren't the strangest thing going on around here.

New friends Ten (Pioneer Ten) and Juice (Jupiter Icy Moons Explorer) fill in Nine on what's been going on. They explain that on April 7th, 2026, people stopped being born. People also stopped dying, or aging for that matter. And nobody has any idea why.

The year now is 17776, and with an infinite amount of time and no possibility of death, people have searched far and wide for ways to keep life meaningful and varied. Some have committed their lives to the past time of American Football, throwing in new rules and such to keep the game interesting. There exist games that span across the continent of North America, strategies such as footballs being shot out of cannons to start plays, even dedicated players, like a man who has been sitting in a cave for hundreds of years so that his team can win on a technicality. Our friendly sentient space satellites watch on from space, spectating these games with no end in sight, with no prize at the end.

So what does it all mean? What's the moral of this story? What's the explanation for these bizarre caricatures of sports as we currently know them?

To be honest, I don't really have an answer.

All I know is that I found myself feeling just like Nine, overwhelmed by this new form of life so incredibly different from what we've always known it. A life where all actions and thought are ultimately futile in the ever-growing expanse of time and space. A world where climate change and human motives continued forward while time stood still, and now nothing can be remedied. The lives on Earth must simply continue on, as it's up to them to find goals and satisfaction in a world that offers no closure or ending in sight.

We can only watch from thousands and thousands of miles away. Seeing lives and actions as nothing more than moving dots on a map. Whether looking on in hopelessness or curiosity, our space satellites spectate this peculiar situation, trying to apply their own reasonings and explanations as to what it all means. Trying to find a reason as to why the dots keep moving with purpose. Trying to figure out just how the infinite expanse of time can be filled by simple follies such as a game of football. 

In regards to your own explanations and thoughts, I'll have to leave that up to you. After all, it feels like we have all the time in the world to worry and fret about our own limited time on Earth, doesn't it?

I'll leave you with the short piece I wrote immediately after finishing 17776 and it's recent sequel, 20021:

To be a space probe, trillions of miles away, watching a game of football that has spanned amounts of time that I can only wish to conceive, over miles of unforgiving mountains and among people who have no reason to dream anymore. The clock is still ticking yet nothing is happening. No time to be wasted, yet something is still missing. How long will we continue to communicate, how long until I am swallowed up by the things I cannot know? I long for a home I have never known, for a body that I have never owned, for a cave I have never seen. Can we even call this football anymore? Cross country trekking for the chance to impact a game that has no end in sight? And why should I care? I’m lightyears away, the Andromeda Galaxy growing closer and closer to me, hurtling at speeds that should leave me as nothing more than a streak of ash and dust. Yet still I perceive and persist and exist. Is there a reason for this? I don’t know. Yet for some reason, I think that might just be perfectly okay.

 

What Nine saw when asked to look at themselves.