Congratulations on being chosen to serve on Earth’s first intergalactic space crew! Please insist that you want to bring bug spray. Lie, tell them you want to study its composition in space, that it reminds you of home, whatever. Just make sure you bring it. You’re going to need it.
Your remorseful quartermaster
PO Box 159 at the Brooksdale Post Office is a bit unusual. Every week, it receives letters from many different people from many different times in the future. Many times, the letters are well-wishes and advice from the loved ones of people of our time. Other times, there are dire warnings.
No one seems to know how or why these letters started coming to PO Box 159. They simply appear. The future these letters describe seems to be in constant flux; one day the year 2098 sounds like a dystopian hellscape, the next day a letter will appear describing a garden of Eden.