You casually walk into the airlock with the fluffy alien. It's not entirely roomy in here, a stark, dark metal reflectiveness giving off just enough green light to be comfortable. In front of you is a large door, with a small PlasGlass window showing the cold, empty vacuum of space beyond.

As the little alien pushes back past you to jump up and press the door close switch, the lights turn a deep crimson, and a continuous low beep begins to sound on-and-off, like a warning.

"You too?" asks the fluffy, crying alien.

"Huh?" you respond.

"She had every right to leave me, of course. I've been a terrible, terrible mate."

Awww, curses, it's a Phlakomorph. You remember a seminar on Unusual Aliens and How To Not Offend Them. Phlakomorph culture is based around doomed romance and grand gestures, like suicide, so, it's vitally important during a business meeting to not ask about the "wife and kids".

"Hey, wait, little Phlakomorph," you say, panic starting to set in.

"Ralph," it replies.

"Okay, Ralph," you say, "let's think this through. You were a terrible mate, right? But you know the things you did wrong?"

"Yes, I catalogued every one of them into my failure journal," sobs Ralph.

"Well, maybe she wasn't the one. Maybe all this was just practice, and now you know how to do it wrong you also know how to do it right. Maybe the next mate is Mrs. Right."

Ralph looks at you with tear-stained eyes, then, you think, smiles.

"You know," he says, "I never thought of it that way. You might be right, stranger."

By the stars, you just convinced a Phlakomorph to cheer up and try again! And in only a few seconds! This must be an achievement for the ages! You can see it all now, the articles written about you, the book deals, the self-help HoloVids you'll sell. You'll be famous!

As you go to grab Ralph and hug him with joy, the airlock warning alarms stop, and the external doors open. You are pushed out into the void of space by the pressure of the atmosphere, and die in seconds, your corpse forever clutching Ralph in a friendly hug.


Which is a shame. But you die having achieved something nobody has before you, or, possibly, as many have before you that also unwisely chose to do so in an airlock with a suicidal Phlakomorph. If you think you can do better, turn to page 1 and give it another shot.