text: They told me the name of this planet is Calliope. As soon as my craft lands, I waste no time in exiting the impossibly cramped vessel. I escape onto the dense soil with both feet tentative but strong, and with an overwhelming relief, I summon the first breath of the only truly fresh air I have known in years. I feel I've spent lifetimes in that small metal casket, waiting to be liberated once more. And here I was, out in the open field. All around me is endless forest; an arboreal paradise. Pristine and teeming with unrevealed movement, it looks like every other forest on every other planet I’ve been to- as if all habitable planets were built from the same universal assembly line. An icy wind teases my skin; a dry, intentional touch, and saturated with foreign particles. I look around and see familiar vines, canopies, lush green bushes, rough mahogany tree trunks, and the scope of all hues earthly; each one damp and unforgiving. I begin to breathe with the rhythm of life around me when my elastic concentration is suddenly cut short. Off in the distances, a primal scream cuts the air. A single, shrill scream to pierce the now perturbed atmosphere. A cry similar to what hundreds of years of science says dinosaurs sounded like. I was startled and my instinct immediately thought of it as sinister, but it might have been more of an announcement of some sort. My mind begins to conjure up plans of defense and I opt to stay still. The tension is cut by an ancient hum, the low and steady reverberations of a cicada. A mechanical creature, too small to really use its mind's gears but loud enough to cover miles of an otherwise silent area with its unrelenting monotone. I decide to proceed slowly now and continue on my path. I look up to see twin moons shinning. Walking in this natural Eden, I relax once more, I stretch muscles worn and cramped. Inside my veins, I can feel the reversed engineered bacteria the science team injected, surging through my system. That tingle means it’s working. Theoretically, I am immune to the diseases infesting this planet. I flex luxuriously and grin. I recall for the millionth time what I learned from the mission briefing: a few decades ago, the scientists found the first contaminated humans drifting on a small shuttle, four light years away from its intended destination. When the lost ship was boarded, the rescue team was attacked by something- not quite human but not quite nightmare. The unrecognizable faces and bodies were half gone, replaced by a metallic-looking melted version. Higher cognitive function gone; their eyes glowed brilliantly in an eerily vapid pulse. The rescue team was killed...then the next and the next. The eighth team finally adapted properly and went in with life-proof suits made from a material I can’t pronounce, killed all but one, and bought him/it back for analysis. Re-focusing, I begin to think on which arbitrary direction I should follow when I spot a gliding movement towards the not too distant “North”, I see what looks like a man. Walking, he disappears once more into the thicket. I catch up quickly and watch as a wiry druid stalks through the forest. He is the hermit of this planet and I know he's why I'm here. I follow invisibly and watch as he shadows a path only perceptible to him, his movements are fluid and measured, his leathery skin covered in moss- he is a walking expression of the landscape. I stand silently next to him as he arrives at the shore of a placid pond and I watch as he bends down swiftly to meet the gently lapping waves. At first, he seems to be looking beyond the surface at the tadpoles but then his eyes adjust and focus on something less familiar. He begins to make exaggerated facial expressions, smiling, widening his eyes and launching into a series of winks, he begins to make himself laugh. He splashes the water and and in an elegant, sudden movement, he straightens his posture. Standing now, he removes his cloth and what looks to be some sort of very light and scaly armor from his shoulders. He arches his back in an impossibly long curve and steps gingerly into the water, exhaling swirls of contentment. His eyes closed, I begin to approach him and I recall the bacteria in my veins, confident that this new strain protects its host. I hope it works.