A Fool’s Guide to the Final Frontier Pat K e l ly The moment space travel was declared “safe enough for civilians” an army of venture capitalists descended upon the cosmos like locusts. a Fool’s Guide to the Final Frontier Pat Kelly Ovi ebooks are available in Ovi/Ovi eBookshelves pages and they are for free. If somebody tries to sell you an Ovi book please contact us immediately. For details, contact: ovimagazine@yahoo.com No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior permission of the writer or the above publisher of this book An Ovi eBooks Publication 2025 Ovi eBookPublications - All material is copyright of the Ovi eBooks Publications & the writer C A Fool’s Guide to the Final Frontier A Fool’s Guide to the Final Frontier Pat Kelly Pat Kelly An Ovi eBooks Publication 2025 Ovi eBookPublications - All material is copyright of the Ovi eBooks Publications & the writer C A Fool’s Guide to the Final Frontier I t is a peculiar trait of mankind that the moment something grand and majestic is discovered, we immediately seek to commercialize, ruin, and overpopulate it. When the first humans gazed at the Moon and dreamed of adventure, they did not envision a future where it would house overpriced souvenir shops and oxygen meters that charge by the breath. Yet here we are. The moment space travel was declared “safe enough for civilians” which, in this case, meant it was only slightly less hazardous than juggling dynamite, an army of venture capitalists descended upon the cosmos like locusts. And at the very forefront of this cosmic land grab was AstroVacations, Inc. , a com- pany that had transformed the wonders of space into a five-star, liability-waived, luxury tourist trap. Pat Kelly Gone were the days of heroic astronauts risking life and limb for the noble pursuit of discovery. In their place came a new breed of spacefarers: social- ites, tech moguls, and influencers looking to be the first person to do a zero-gravity TikTok dance. As- troVacations promised them all an “unparalleled ex- perience,” and indeed, few experiences compared to being stranded in low orbit due to a booking error or finding out that economy-class oxygen was only available on alternate hours. “Welcome aboard AstroCruiser Delight!” chirped an automated voice, cheerful to the point of men- ace. “Please ensure you have signed our zero-liability waiver! In the unlikely event of catastrophic decom- pression, your next of kin will receive a heartfelt au- tomated email. Have a stellar day!” In walked Edmund “Eddie” Worthington III, a man who, despite his privileged upbringing, possessed the intelligence of an undercooked potato. Eddie had booked a ticket aboard this celestial money pit under the noble premise of “content creation.” As an “adventure influencer” (a title he had given himself after filming a 12-second video of him falling off a jet ski), he sought to become the first man to livestream a backflip in space. A Fool’s Guide to the Final Frontier The moment he stepped foot on the vessel, Eddie had questions, though not of the intellectual variety. “Where’s the gravity control switch? I need slow-mo- tion footage of me flipping majestically through the cosmos.” A flight attendant, whose patience had eroded after years of dealing with the galactically dimwitted, fixed him with a stare that could curdle milk. “Sir, gravity does not have an off switch.” Eddie scoffed. “Typical. Always keeping the best features locked behind a paywall.” The AstroCruiser Delight was a marvel of corpo- rate engineering, which is to say it was needlessly complex, outrageously expensive, and prone to spon- taneous malfunctions. Neon signs flickered over the ship’s various “experiences,” including an orbital golf course (with golf balls prone to drifting irretrievably into space), an intergalactic buffet (where the food floated frustratingly just out of reach), and a “Mar- tian Margarita” bar (which contained neither Mars nor actual alcohol, but did include a hefty price tag). As Eddie gawked at a holographic Elvis Presley performing exclusively in Klingon, a sudden alarm shattered the artificial tranquility. The lights flick- Pat Kelly ered, the ship trembled, and the automated voice re- turned this time, far less enthusiastic. “Uh, folks, we seem to be experiencing a slight navigational hiccup. Nothing to worry about! Just a minor...uh... issue with our orbital trajectory. If you look out the left window, you may notice we’re slight- ly off course. And by ‘slightly,’ I mean we are now speeding directly toward an uncharted asteroid field. Please fasten your seatbelts and, if necessary, scream into your complimentary comfort pillows.” The ship erupted into chaos. A businessman screamed as his cocktail floated out of his glass. A wealthy heiress waved a platinum membership card and demanded a refund. The animatronic concierge twitched violently and repeated, “AstroVacations thanks you for your patronage!” as sparks shot from its robotic eye. Eddie, ever the opportunist, grabbed his camera. “Alright, folks, smash that like button—this is about to be the most extreme unboxing video of all time!” And thus, as the ship hurtled toward its doom, one thing was certain: AstroVacations would still find a way to charge extra for seatbelt usage. * * * * * A Fool’s Guide to the Final Frontier For reasons that even the brightest minds at As- troVacations could not comprehend—though one suspected a tragic underestimation of gravity, the AstroCruiser Delight was still speeding toward a fate more spectacular than any over-budgeted sci-fi di- saster film. If nothing changed, the voyage that had promised to “redefine luxury among the stars” was about to redefine what it meant to leave a crater the size of Texas on a celestial body. The passengers, who just hours earlier had been complaining about the lack of gluten-free space cav- iar, were now flailing helplessly in the zero-gravity chaos, their limbs flapping about like startled jelly- fish. “Sir, please take your seat and remain calm!” a flight attendant shouted over the alarms to a man who was, at that moment, attempting to bribe a vending ma- chine with gold bullion. “Madam,” the man gasped, “I will do no such thing until I am provided with a cognac of acceptable vin- tage!” Meanwhile, Eddie Worthington III, who had spent the first half of the crisis live-streaming his own terri- fied screams, finally decided to take action. Unfortu- Pat Kelly nately, the only action he could conceive was to film himself “heroically” pressing random buttons in the cockpit. “Folks, don’t panic! I saw this in a movie once!” Eddie declared, dramatically flipping a switch la- beled “Do Not Flip.” A new alarm blared. The ship’s AI voice, which had started the trip with a cheery enthusiasm that sug- gested it had never met a human before, now sound- ed deeply exhausted. “Congratulations, esteemed guest. You have suc- cessfully disabled the inertial dampeners. You are now experiencing the full effect of unregulated cos- mic momentum. Hold onto something or someone expendable.” The ship immediately tilted, throwing people into one another like cosmic bowling pins. The vending machine thief found himself clinging to a chandelier. An elderly woman in a pearl necklace floated past, smacking Eddie on the head with her handbag. “Young man, in my day, we didn’t go around press- ing buttons just because they were shiny!” she scold- ed, before drifting away with surprising dignity. A Fool’s Guide to the Final Frontier Somewhere in the chaos, an AstroVacations exec- utive, who had been lurking in the VIP lounge sip- ping an overpriced space espresso, finally emerged. He was a thin, nervous man with the distinct air of someone who had once been a promising child and then made a series of increasingly poor life choices. “Ladies and gentlemen!” he announced, adjusting his cravat, “I assure you, we have the situation entire- ly under control!” At that moment, a panel behind him exploded. “What I meant to say,” he continued, brushing soot from his sleeve, “is that we are in a mildly challeng- ing navigational scenario, but rest assured, AstroVa- cations remains committed to your comfort and, uh, survival.” “Do we get a refund?” someone yelled. “Absolutely not,” the executive replied, his expres- sion hardening. At this point, the ship’s AI returned, its voice now approaching something between a sigh and a ner- vous breakdown. “Calculating last-minute survival options...” it Pat Kelly droned. “Conclusion: Highly improbable. Alterna- tive solution: Deploying Emergency Tourist Con- tainment System.” The passengers barely had time to process this in- formation before the walls of the ship suddenly eject- ed an avalanche of plastic-wrapped safety bubbles. Each one was emblazoned with the AstroVacations logo and the reassuring slogan, “Your safety, our pri- ority!* (*Additional fees may apply.)” With a final shudder, the AstroCruiser Delight performed a maneuver so physics-defying that fu- ture scholars would describe it as “a catastrophic pir- ouette of doom.” It spun, dipped, twisted, and then just as it seemed all hope was lost, smacked directly into an uncharted space gas station. There was silence. Then a slow, painful creaking. The ship had miraculously wedged itself between a neon sign that read “Galactic Guzzle” and a floating billboard advertising “Martian Miracle Hair Tonic! Now with Extra Gravity!” From within his protective bubble, Eddie poked his head out and grinned at his camera. “And that, folks, is how you make an emergency landing. Don’t forget to like and subscribe!” A Fool’s Guide to the Final Frontier As the passengers groggily emerged, a small, can- tankerous alien wearing a grease-stained uniform and a nametag reading “Fred” waddled out from the gas station’s service door. He took one long look at the wreckage and sighed. “You people want gas, or just gonna sit there lookin’ stupid?” The executive dusted himself off and cleared his throat. “Sir, we... uh ...we require assistance.” “Yeah, yeah,” Fred muttered. “Always the same with you space tourists. ‘Ooooh, look at us! We discovered space! Ooooh, look at us! We crashed our fancy ship into my store!’ Buncha amateurs. Now, are you gon- na buy somethin’ or not?” Thus, as AstroVacations immediately began draft- ing a press release that would rebrand the entire di- saster as a “spontaneous interstellar adventure pack- age,” Eddie Worthington III posed dramatically in front of the wreckage and uploaded his final video. “Well, folks, we did it! First influencer to survive a full-scale, high-speed space tourism catastrophe. This has been your boy Eddie, signing off from the farthest, dumbest corner of the galaxy. Peace!” Pat Kelly And somewhere, in the cold vacuum of space, the AI’s final message echoed into the void: “Thank you for choosing AstroVacations. We look forward to your next... ill-advised journey.” END A Fool’s Guide to the Final Frontier A Fool’s Guide to the Final Frontier Pat Kelly Ovi eBook Publishing 2025 Ovi magazine Design: Thanos Ovi ebooks are available in Ovi/Ovi eBookshelves pages and they are for free. If somebody tries to sell you an Ovi book please contact us immediately. For details, contact: ovimagazine@yahoo.com No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior permission of the writer or the above publisher of this book An Ovi eBooks Publication 2025 Ovi eBookPublications - All material is copyright of the Ovi eBooks Publications & the writer C Pat Kelly Pat K e l ly The moment space travel was declared “safe enough for civilians” an army of venture capitalists descended upon the cosmos like locusts. a Fool’s Guide to the Final Frontier Pat Kelly , a ginger beard hardware salesman whose charisma could sell a rusty nail to a hermit, navigates the labyrinthine aisles of life with a wrench in one hand and a witty anecdote in the other. His customers, from the seasoned DIYer to the bewildered novice, become unwitting characters in his ongoing chronicle of human folly and hardware hijinks.