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Briefing number 1015060816.

The Bradbury Heavy mission.

Earth is a planet of many wonders.

A rare mix of biological diversity

and abundant resources.

Humanity has always endeavored

to explore and discover in the
face of even the longest odds.

But the third planet
from Sol finds itself

on the brink of catastrophe.

Environmental changes
and political unrest

has left Earth's long-term prospects

in a tenuous situation.

As a result, new horizons have
grown increasingly appealing.

All systems are go
for the first human flight

to the planet Mars

and the start of colonization
of the solar system.

A large porthole is positioned

over the center flight commander seat.

For launch and until Mars landing,

it is sealed and covered to
decrease radiation exposure.

The final air-to-ground
communication checks

are conducted by Flight
Commander Alexa Brandt...

MLC. Bradbury confirms porthole
radiation shield closure nominal

and secured for launch.

...and Pilot Casey Donlin.

TINA confirms

all Near Earth Network
tracking frequencies are locked.

Flight engineer Rei Tanaka

monitors on board fuel cells

preparing to transfer
to ship's internal power.

ICC. Bradbury reporting six good APUs.

Flight Surgeon Katherine Langford

monitors the crew vitals...

Jerry, this monitor's reading

that you shouldn't have had
the cauliflower

at the pre-launch dinner.

...while Mission Specialist Jerry Pierson

awaits "all systems are go."

Well, when the ship launches,
I will, too, huh?

Performing OMS tank repressurization.

They are aided by the on board

Transport Information Network
Artificial Intelligence unit,

known as "TINA."

This is WTD
conducting launch status check.

As all stations verify
ready to resume count

and "go" for launch,

crew is advised to stand by.

Copy that. Crew standing by.

TINA, mute communications
and play... "Family."

BTC... go.

- LPS?
- Go.

Safety console?

- Safety is go.
- Range weather?

Range weather
has no constraints for launch.

SRO?

SRO is no-go.

Repeat, no-go!

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh!

SRO, repeat your status.

TINA, music off.

SRO, explain your hold.

At 02100...

This is confirmed? Where?

What is the confirmation?

Beyond the EAS... Now!

Tell me the fucking NASIC confirmation!

Jesus Christ.

LLC. SRO.

National Air and Space
Intelligence Center

has confirmed detection
of the launch of five long-range

Hwasong-14 ICBMs out of
the North Korean peninsula.

Are you fucking kidding me?

Los Angeles and Seattle
have already been hit.

Holy shit.

They have determined
Wells Spaceport is the target

- of one missile's trajectory.
- Oh...

- Delivery time, launch to impact...
- What do we do?

...30 minutes.

What do we do?

2100 was 20 minutes ago.

Scheduled launch in nine.
That's a one-minute window.

If we ditch now, we can pop the hatch

and be down on the ground
in about ten minutes.

No, we'd be vaporized by the 25th floor.

If we abort now,
this ship suffers a direct hit.

- If we launch...
- If we launch,

we at least get the ship
out of harm's way.

If we don't even try,
there's a possibility

the human race ends in ten minutes.

Bradbury. ICC.

NASIC has advised us
to evacuate the facility.

Peterson Air Force Base is confirming

an American counterstrike...
45 Trident II missiles

against North Korean and Russian targets.

Abort or go?

We have no choice. We have to abort.

I did not train

for four years

and give up my only family

to be nuked on a launch pad. Fucking go!

- Katherine?
- Go.

We should treat this
like every other cause

for environmental evacuation or hurricane

- or an earthquake.
- Jerry?

It...

Fuck.

Jerry?

Go.

You hesitated.

Because how can this possibly
be happening?

Four "go," one "no."

So what is this, fucking majority rules?

No, it's not majority rules.

I am commander of this mission. My rules.

Continue launch control protocols.

ICC. Bradbury.

Transfer all launch control function

and power to internal Bradbury.

Bradbury transfer to internal power

and launch control in three, two,

- one.
- Brandt?

- Start.
- I'm sorry,

but we did not come all this way

to bail out.

Go for auto sequence.

Good luck, Launch Control.

Bradbury, be advised.

From this point onward,
we are evacuating the facility

and will neither deliver
or receive commands

from the launch vehicle.

Godspeed, Bradbury.

Lower visors.

We are "go" for auto sequence start.

TINA, go for main engine starter.

Main engine ignition.

Launch tower has been cleared.

Five voyagers setting sail

to a mysterious red light

35 million miles across an empty sea,

soaring within the greatest
invention ever created

by the human spirit to escape
a catastrophe made possible

by the most destructive regions
of the human mind.

Individual madness

or shared nightmare?

The answer lies
in their search for safe harbor

here... in The Twilight Zone.

You're traveling
through another dimension,

a dimension not only of
sight and sound but of mind.

It is the middle ground
between light and shadow,

between science and superstition.

And it lies between
the pit of one's fears

and the summit of one's knowledge.

You are now traveling through
a dimension of imagination.

You've just crossed over
into The Twilight Zone.

Synced & corrected by -robtor-
www.addic7ed.com

Trans-Mars injection burn shutoff

in E-minus ten minutes.

Approaching Earth escape velocity.

Mission Command, this is Bradbury Heavy.

Please respond.

Mission Command, this is Bradbury Heavy.
Respond.

Mission Command, this is
Bradbury Heavy. Respond.

This is the Emergency
Alert System notification.

This is not a test.

A nuclear weapons attack was commenced

against the United States.

_

TMI burn shutoff in E-minus ten minutes.

Nuclear bombs have been detonated

above several cities across the country,

including Washington, D.C.,
New York City, Los Angeles...

Turn that off.

TMI burn shutoff in E-minus nine minutes.

Yo, Pierson,

any chance we can eject
the porthole cover

to get a visual on below?

Is there anything left to see?

Answer the question.

Yes, if we're gonna remain in orbit.

No, if we're going on to Mars.

We're going to Mars in...

eight and a half minutes, so, no.

I'd rather have a radiation
shield than a window.

The cameras give us visuals.

Casey, we wanted this mission

since we were firsties
with RedElev squadron.

Pierson, you beat out,
what, 15,000 applicants?

15,380.

Katie lost her marriage
accepting this mission.

And just a month ago, we were
all at Rei's father's funeral.

He was proud she was going.

We all signed up knowing

it would be four years till we came back.

And we knew during that time

that all of our loved ones would
wonder the rest of their lives

about us if something...

Went wrong.

We just never envisioned we'd be
the ones wondering about them.

TMI burn shutoff in E-minus six minutes.

Our options...

we orbit Earth the rest of our lives,

burn up in the atmosphere
when our fuel runs out.

Food will run out before the fuel.

We can try and reenter
through the command module.

You know the CM is designed
for a water landing.

No one'll be there to fish us out.

- We'll drown.
- So we go.

We travel the 218 days and land on Mars.

It's a suicide mission.

She's right. We'd die there.

Yeah, we'd die of cancer and
prolonged radiation exposure

before we could have the
chance to refine enough fuel.

There's a test to the universe.

A scientific theory,
made by an economist,

known as "The Great Filter."

The Great Filter posits

that life in the universe
is very, very rare.

It's hard to start, harder to continue.

The test of life

is, "Can an advanced life-form make it

to another planet
before it destroys itself?"

Most advanced life fails.

That's why we never encounter
any other civilizations.

They destroy themselves
before we can reach 'em.

Humans... Earth...

we're on the brink.

This mission was designed

because we had no choice
but to find a way out.

TMI burn shutoff in E-minus five minutes.

We go, and we go together.

If we remain who we are,

hold on to the group's original goal,

to the world's goal for us,

if we stick to what we
believed would get us there

over the last four years...

the stuff that makes us
a family... I know we'll be okay.

And if anyone is alive at home,

maybe word will get out that we made it.

They can look up and see Mars,
and have hope for themselves.

Go for Stage 3 TMI burn shutoff

in E-minus four minutes, 35 seconds.

Tanaka, you copy TINA?

Rei, do you copy?

If you won't do it, I will.

Rei, shut off TMI now.

Orbital altitude

1,124 kilometers.

Go for second stage
ejection in E-minus ten seconds.

Speed... 27,744 KPH.

Two, one.

Second stage ejection.

Earth escape velocity achieved.

Go for Trans-Mars injection
in four minutes, 30 seconds.

TINA, deploy tethered SAT one.

Deploying tethered SAT one.

Tethered SAT one deployment nominal.

TINA, deploy tethered SAT two.

Deploying tethered SAT two.

Tethered SAT two deployment completed.

Tethered centripetal gravity
configuration is on standby.

TINA,

deploy tethered SAT engines and
commence rotational gravity.

Trans-Mars third stage
injection burn shutoff

in E-minus ten, nine,

eight, seven,

six, five,

four, three,

two, one.

Tethered SAT burn... complete.

Rotational pseudo-gravity is operational.

TMI burn complete.

Duration: 125 seconds.

All engines shut down.

I'll say it.

Good flying.

Just as planned, every second.

Now that we've escaped
Earth's atmosphere...

we will never see
another star twinkle again.

Everyone...

who's ever lived, billions,
the good, the bad,

everyone's dead.

Everyone's fucking dead.

Except us.

__

_

Still nothing?

It's the same thing as when
Donlin tried to call his brother.

The phone rings at my mom's house,

but nobody ever answers.

Enhanced radiation weapon neutron burst

would minimize infrastructure damage

while optimally killing civilians.

That's why the phones don't work.

These calls you're making
won't do anyone any good.

We need to accept what happened.
We need to move on.

TINA, no more softphone calls
to Earth without my permission.

Communications to Earth are blocked.

Stopping Tanaka from phoning her family

won't get her to fall back in line.

Those are my orders.

_

_

What the fuck?

_

"War of the Worlds."

Really?

It was-it was this radio play
in the 1930s

where martians invade New Jersey.

Yeah, you know, I really love that show,

um... Wild Cards.

You know, Marines

- fighting aliens in space?
- No, no, no, no, no. This was, like,

a hundred years ago, and the guy did it

so it seemed like the martian invasion

was actually happening.

Right? He used-he used,
like, simulated news reports

- and remote interviews.
- Can I get the broccoli?

But this was the first time

that anybody had ever done that. Right?

So, most people tune in late

because they're listening
to another show,

they miss the introduction
that it's a play,

and those people lose
their collective shit.

Rei. Rei.

Come on.

Thank you.

TINA, lights on.

That's right, after 30 days,
we receive a software update

for TINA from ground support, but...

there's no ground support.

Um, I'm the one that did
the food supply manifest,

and I can't remember.

Is it real tomatoes in this sauce,

or is it the fake powder tomatoes?

Powder.

It's real tomatoes without the water.

Well, it tastes exactly
like that thing that your mom brought

to the Launch Control pre-launch potluck.

Hmm. Yeah.

- Pan with the aluminum foil on it.
- Mm-hmm.

It does taste like

what Mrs. Brandt made.

Right, but that's what I'm saying.

All right, in your reality,

the tomatoes taste real. In mine,

no way. Butyl acetate and citric acid.

It's the same way you can hear a song

and think, "Oh, I really like this song,"

and I can hear the same song

and think, "Oh, this is total garbage."

Are you gonna do this
the whole seven months?

I didn't know I couldn't say how I feel.

Sorry. I wasn't trying
to piss anyone off.

Excuse me.

_

Hello. You have reached the home

of Alexa Brandt and Natalie Miller.

Neither of us can come to the phone.

Please leave a message at the tone.

The voice mailbox

of the person you have called is full.

Please inform them to delete...

I'm not trying to tell you who you can

and cannot fuck, but we cannot do this.

This mission is not designed
for it. You know that.

Commander.

Commander, look...

I'm sorry.

And it is not like me...

We cannot afford any accidents.

We cannot take on any additional crew.

We cannot risk any children.

Ma'am, we've been very careful.

The commander's right.

The ship's supply
is painstakingly estimated.

It's 3,200 calories a day
for a five-person crew, so...

If Tanaka had to begin breastfeeding,

her caloric intake
would need to increase.

Now you care about my life?

You didn't care about my life
at launch or at TMI

or now.

_

You all right?

We're officially halfway there.

I know Michael wanted a divorce

when you accepted this mission.

I asked you if you were okay.

Do you regret it?

I had a choice...

between Mike and a
round-trip ticket to Mars.

I got neither.

Tell me about your nightmare.

I'm asleep.

Then dreaming.

Home.

At my parents' place in San Diego.

Sky is blue.

Ocean.

Natalie's there.

All my family's there.

And then I realize,

in the dream,

that I'm just dreaming,

that I'm not really there.

I don't want to wake up.

But I do.

This...

is the nightmare.

You're not alone.

We're in this.

With you.

You're our commander.

We're a family, and we need our mum.

You're the mom.

I'm commander of nothing
but a slow suicide.

_

This is Whipple Mars Mission Bradbury.

If anybody can hear me on this frequency,

go to Distress Relay Alert. Come in.

Radio signal's taking longer.

Four minutes to Earth,
the closer we get to Mars.

This is Whipple Mars Mission Bradbury.

Anybody receiving this transmission,

go to Distress Relay Alert.

Rei.

Commander gave the order.

No more transmissions to Earth.

What if someone answers?

Hmm?

Then what?

I'd rather just have faith
they're not all gone.

Okay, on your mark, get set, go.

This is Whipple Mars Mission Bradbury.

Come in.

We'll both tell our secrets
at the same time.

Caller on this frequency,

identify yourself.

The Munsters, brought to you by Joy,

the dishwashing liquid
that gets you so clean

you can see yourself shine.

It's a TV show.

Television signals used to be broadcast

and have been bouncing around
space for 70 years.

So we just bounced into, uh...

whatever that was.

The only evidence there was
advanced life on Earth is fake.

Hey. You awake?

Yeah.

So, you know that idea we had?

Will these work?

- Yeah?
- Yeah.

Yeah.

Once you've exhausted your anger,

you'll end up like Alexa.

We have to help each other.
We have no choice.

Yeah?

Yeah.

Good night.

Night.

_

Oh, shit. Fuck you.

Make a wish.

Blow out the candles.

Fire is prohibited

in this spacecraft.

- Relax.
- Are you ready?

- Yeah.
- Let's do it. Get up.

Um, so, I know that you're down.

And I know you know that I'm down.

So I'll help you if you help me.

We know you miss music,

and we both miss California.

So...

Happy birthday.

Yeah...

Yay.

Okay.

- Okay.
- Yikes.

We can't remember!

I don't know the words!

Wow.

Hey. Hey. Hey.

- I'm sorry.
- It's okay.

I don't want to be

the mum.

I get it.

I'm sorry.

I ruined the party. I'm sorry.

No.

Hey, don't cry.

Hey, don't cry, Katie.

There's no need to cry.

I have the best gift. Uh...

And I've been waiting for
just this day to give it.

It's the best gift, but it's not just

for Commander Brandt.

It's for all of us.

I have been collecting data
since the launch to test

a hypothesis,

which, fortunately, I have proven

beyond any reasonable doubt.

None of this is real.

Nothing that has happened to us

has actually happened, nor will anything

that's about to happen to us.

This.

This.

I mean, all of this. Uh...

We're fine.

We are in no danger.

None of this is real.

None of this is real.

Alert. Alert.

Coronal mass ejection
detected on the sun deck.

Solar flare estimated classification

X8.5.

An X8.5 solar flare would wipe out TINA.

And that would wipe out us.

Suspend pseudo-gravity

and position the heat shield

90 degrees toward the Sun

for the duration of the flare.

Uh, I got news for you.

None of this is real.

It's just a test.

None of this is real.

None of it.

All right.

It's just a test.

My hypothesis is such
that the events on this ship

are the result of an endurance
simulation experiment

meant to test crew morale

and mental durability
during a trip to Mars.

Unlike other such experiments,
we were not informed

in order to get a truer result.

Okay, to test my hypothesis,
first, I made a calculation.

The probability
of a North Korean missile launch

just 20 minutes prior to the launch

- of the Bradbury...
- Jerry...

The result was 735.6

- billion, with a "B."
- Exposure levels fatal.

Pierson! Langford!

Tanaka! Secure yourselves

- in the flight deck!
- So the most likely explanation is

that we never launched.

While we were boarding the ship,

we were redirected
in the launch tower tunnel

to a replica

Bradbury housed

in a facility on the
Whipple Spaceport campus.

Jerry, we have to get to the cockpit.

Growing suspicious just after launch,

I was prescient enough
to conduct an experiment

- just prior to TMI.
- Pierson, sit the fuck down, man!

Jerry, I understand, and
you are making complete sense.

But can you tell me
from your flight seat?

O2 fans disabled.

I held a tablet stylus
in the air and released it.

See? Rei.

If it floated,

then we were in orbit

- and not in a simulation.
- Jerry,

you are endangering everyone.

You have to get to your flight seat.

Standing by for a 90-degree

- roll maneuver!
- Shit.

Pierson, get in your fucking chair now!

Against my expectations,

the stylus demonstrated the
properties of weightlessness.

Solar flare impact
in E-minus 273 seconds.

So, obviously,

we are housed in

a six degrees of freedom simulator.

We're capable of performing
the six types of motion possible

by a rigid body
in three-dimensional space.

Surge. Heave. Sway. Yaw. Pitch. Roll.

- Initiating heat shield.
- All of this against our wills

or even our knowledge.
Now, I remain uncertain

at which point they redirected
us into the replica.

In the tunnel to the launch pad
is most likely.

But with a simulation this sophisticated,

who knows how long we've been unaware?

Jerry, I understand.
And I believe you, okay?

I believe you...

No, fuck you!

You don't believe me!

You want me to do what they want.

They made us think
that our families are dead!

They made us think
that the Earth was destroyed.

They fucked with eight months
of our lives,

and I saw them watching us!

Heat shield off-line.

I saw them on the monitor!

They are watching us do their test!

Shit.

They are watching us!

They're watching us.

Impact in E-minus 188 seconds.

They are watching us.

No, you don't.

ET liquid leaking.

No, you don't. No, you don't.

Pierson's fucking lost it.

I'm right! I'm right!

Unable to stop ET liquid leak.

- Sit down!
- This toilet has

a disposal device comprised
of plastic collection bags,

which, although tied up
and stored for ejection

into the vacuum of space,

- consistently released
- Jerry, please!

A thin two-micron fecal water...

We need to position
the heat shield toward the Sun!

...vapor from the trash bags,

which, over a 12-week period
of approximately

five to ten fecal collections
a day, thus five to ten

interactions with a vacuum,

should create a crystallizing ring

of approximately ten microns
around the internal...

Katherine, leave him!

If is the latent heat of freezing,

- Is is the latent heat of sublimation...
- MILA alignment incomplete.

...and R is the radius of the droplets

- or the plastic collection bags.
- TINA, calculate portside

- orbital maneuver!
- But there

is nothing!

There's nothing.

Heat shield repositioned.

There is nothing!

I took samples for 105 days

with my bare fucking hands,

and there has never been a ring!

All right, there has

never been condensation!

There has never been crystallization!

Where Z equals zero,

there is nothing.

All systems are go.

We're in a six degrees
of freedom simulator...

...where they control the video we see,

they control the audio we hear,

And they are watching us.

They're watching us.

OMB burn duration will be three seconds.

Okay, I will prove it.

- Solar flare impact in 15 seconds...
- He's opened the air lock.

He's gonna get sucked out
into the vacuum of space.

Not just into the vacuum of space,

but into a fucking solar flare.

Solar flare impact in ten seconds.

Stand by for OMB burn in ten...

nine, eight,

seven, six,

five, four,

three, two, one.

Six degrees of freedom.

Warning.

Air lock open.

Warning.

Air lock open.

_

Well... was Pierson right?

Is there no crystallization
there around the gasket?

There are crystals.

Jerry was wrong.

When my dad died of Alzheimer's,

even though he didn't know
who I was for a couple years

before he died, I could still feel him

even after he was gone.

And as a scientist,
I know that his scent...

could linger in his clothes
and in his fabric

and in his furniture,
but I swear, this was different.

I could feel him.

You know, I felt him.

I felt him here.

What is the scientific
explanation for that?

For that sensation...

that feeling that they're

just gonna walk in the room
at any moment?

Because maybe Pierson was right...

on the other side of these walls.

Yeah.

Jerry?

Knock twice if you're over there.

Oh, shit!

Okay, I thought he was gonna knock.

Oh, yeah. Oh, he's over there.

Oh, he's over there, all right.

He's watching us on the monitor,

laughing his ass off.

Suck it.

Jerry's dead.

Just like so many explorers
that left their home,

Jerry lost that one thing
that makes home safe...

...that other far-off,

unknown places just don't have.

Home keeps us aware of who we are.

Jerry lost that.

His body will float around in space

long after the last star has gone dark.

He's the loneliest man
there will ever be.

So don't romanticize Jerry.

Don't make him a legend.

Don't any of you walk out
that door expecting to be home.

'Cause we're not that, we're not him.

And we may not have a home.

But we have each other.

We're family.

And TINA.

Family, yeah.

She was holding out on us.

_

1,500 Celsius.

1,300 Celsius.

Atmospheric entry complete.

Velocity: 17,300 kpm.

Go for parachute one and two
deployment in three,

two, one.

Altitude:

11 kilometers.

Parachute deployment nominal.

9.2 kilometers.

Go for terminal descent.

Yes, Commander.

Go for landing gear deployment.

Landing gear deployment nominal.

Donlin, yaw ten degrees.

Copy that. We are go for touchdown.

One kilometer.

Velocity 60 meters p.s.

500 meters.

250.

200.

We're kicking up dust here.

50 meters.

25.

Ten.

Seven.

Five.

Two meters.

Contact light.

Ten degrees latitude,

110 degrees longitude.

Location: Tharsis quadrangle.

Okay.

Engines shut down.

You know...

I say we name this place Piersonburg.

Congratulations, Commander Langford.

Nice driving, Casey.

Welcome to Mars.

Did we land on Mars?

Let's pop the hatch and find out.

TINA.

Open Command Module porthole.

Let's see if Jerry was right.

Jerry died for nothing.

We made it.

We made it through the Great Filter.

The crew
managed to make its way to its goal

despite considerable
internal discord and strife.

Sufficient data collected
to commence analysis face.

_

_

_

_

_

_

_

_

_

It is said that seeing is believing.

The crew of the Bradbury Heavy
mission to Mars

might tell you otherwise.

They are about to find out

that they couldn't trust their own eyes.

But who, or what, can we trust

if not ourselves?

The answer lies somewhere
between takeoff and landing...

in The Twilight Zone.

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