I took a breath of the cool station air before donning my space helmet. I was wearing a bulky space suit. It was difficult to walk, but I knew it was for the best; I needed protection. I stepped into the airlock, and clenched my fists as I heard the doors shut behind me. Soon, I would be the first person to walk on that reddish-yellow, unfamiliar, vastly uncharted gravel. A voice erupted from my radio, startling me.

“You ready?” I heard my commander say with his Southern twang. I shut my eyes, sighing.

“Ready.”

An alarm began to blare, meaning the airlock would open soon. I opened my eyes just as the doors opened.

I looked about; nothing much to see except rocks and dust. I felt a wave of anxiety sweep over me.

“Well,” I heard that Southern voice say, “Are you gonna head out?”

I gulped, and hit the reply button on my radio.

“Yes sir.”

I was reminded of the words of Neil Armstrong, the famed pioneer into such an intriguing yet terrifying task. “One small step…” I thought to myself, feeling scared. I had trained for this moment. I had had briefings from scientists, and pep talks from friends. I had naively thought it would be easy, yet my mind was spinning. My commander barked at me to hurry and move out. I mustered up all of my courage, and took that first step; I was the first human here. I was filled with a sense of pride, and savored it for a moment before pushing it away. I needed to focus.

I began to walk around, moving away from base. The more I explored, the stranger the environment seemed to become. I noted that there were woods up ahead, and decided to head there. The trees weren’t like regular trees; the leaves were yellow, just like the sky, and the trunks were blood red. I started hearing odd chirping sounds coming from within; with each step I felt more dread. Finally, I reached them.

I stepped into the woods, and noticed something odd. With each step on the dry soil, it turned an earthy brown color. Touching the bark of the trees, they turned brown; the leaves turned green. I felt as though I were walking in a painting, each step a stroke of a paintbrush. I became excited, and smiled. I retrieved my camera to document everything. I decided to radio back to the base.

“I have entered a wooded area. Strange activity.”

“Send it back,” I heard the man’s voice say. I pushed a button on the camera, and a live feed of what I was seeing was sent back to base.

“Remarkable,” I heard a colleague say.

“Indeed,” my commander mumbled. “Go farther in.”

I felt reluctant, and felt a strange tug in my gut. The chirping seemed to grow louder.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said reluctantly.

“Go now,” he shouted. The force of his voice was loud, hurting my ears.

“Sir, I don’t think-“ I repeated.

“Go now!” He yelled. I felt a twinge of irritation, and took another step. But now, each step sent charred earth around me.

“Sir, stop,” I requested, trying to calm myself. His tone had been irritating me all day, but it seemed amplified now. Nonetheless, he continued. With each word he spat, the environment seemed to decay. It seemed the planet was listening to us. It had taken pity on my fear, but now it seemed angry over our discourse. The planet was alive, listening. It was sensitive and empathetic to a remarkable degree. The chirping piqued, and I knew I was in danger. As I turned and ran, my commander spouted even more vitriol, causing the environment to worsen. I began to yell back, and the decay became more severe. I began to sprint back, and feared I wouldn’t make it back to base on time. Just as the planet reached nightmare level, the chirping screeching, the ground and rocks crumbling, I leapt into the airlock and felt the doors shut behind me. Perhaps this world was more delicate than it seemed. It looked rough, but it was sensitive. It listened. If only my commander had too - as I turned and looked out, a wave of black washed over the station. We were in danger, and all because of unkind words. Perhaps with patience, this planet could foster us; but only once we had reached peace among ourselves.