The Accidental Astronaut
Alfred, a man of routine and quiet curiosity, lived a life split between the humdrum of the factory accounts office and the boundless possibilities of scientific exploration. His nights were spent lost in textbooks on anti-gravity and gravitons – those elusive particles theorized to control gravity itself. A fervent admirer of Albert Einstein, the discovery of this mythical force fueled Alfred’s wildest dreams.

One night, fueled by a late-night cup of tea and a renewed dose of Einstein’s brilliance, Alfred attempted a mind-bending experiment. Lying in bed, he focused on visualizing gravitons, imagining them swirling around him like tiny, unseen gears controlling the very fabric of gravity. Days bled into nights filled with failed attempts, but Alfred, fueled by an unwavering determination, persisted.

Then, one miraculous night, it happened. An inch. A single, glorious inch of levitation. Alfred, his heart pounding in his chest, felt the pull of the earth lessen ever so slightly. This wasn’t a dream; this was real.

Weeks turned into a whirlwind of experimentation. Alfred, in the quiet confines of his room, slowly mastered his newfound ability. He could rise a foot, then two, then finally, with a triumphant gasp, hover near the ceiling. The joy bubbled over. He had to share this!

Pen flying across paper, Alfred poured his discovery onto the page. He wrote to his idol, Albert Einstein, detailing the meditation techniques and his control of gravitons. Euphoria coursed through him as he sealed the envelope and headed to the postbox.

That night, however, Alfred, exhausted from his exhilarating feat, skipped his usual meditation session. Across the ocean, in Princeton, a restless Albert Einstein received Alfred’s letter. The scientist, his mind ablaze with possibilities, couldn’t contain his excitement. Sleep evaded him, replaced by visions of a world where gravity could be defied, where humans could reach for the stars. He dreamt of soaring through the inky blackness of space, a smile playing on his lips.

The next morning, a somber Sergeant Dixon arrived at Alfred’s doorstep. His mother, pale and trembling, was ushered inside. News traveled fast, and the discovery of a man frozen solid in a farmer’s field, a single letter clutched in his hand, had set the scientific community ablaze.

Alfred, it seemed was found frozen solid at the bottom of a 3ft crater, he had pushed his newfound power too far. He dreamt of emulating his idol, of reaching for the cosmos, and the lack of training, of understanding the limits, proved fatal. The thin atmosphere of space had stolen his warmth, leaving him a frozen testament to the power and danger of a scientific dream pursued too hastily.

The news that reached Princeton was a crushing blow. Albert Einstein, his dream shattered, could only stare at the letter, a heavy weight in his hand. Alfred, the unassuming accountant, had achieved something extraordinary, a testament to the power of both scientific curiosity and the very real dangers that accompany pushing the boundaries of human understanding.