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Darkness shrouded the center like a cloak. Silence reigned, hands silencing any sound that rose. The mood remained subdued, somber or even sad. Some rooms were empty, as the time on the project drew near its end. Nobody needed to brave the quiet corridors. That was, save for one, lonely, cowardly figure.
I heard my footsteps echoing as I walked down the long corridor. It felt like I was sealing my fate, but I didn’t know what I was doing. It felt like precious time was slipping through my fingers but time for what? My brain had given up, consumed completely by fear. But fear from where? I reached the door I think I was supposed to go into. Why was I here again? Where was I? What was I doing? My vision blurred, panic ebbing at the corners and I felt my eyes prick with the sensation of tears. A lump began to form in my throat. I raised my hand to knock.
‘Come in,’ A voice rose from within. I stared at the door for a moment. I couldn’t seem to place the voice in my head. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door with a quiet click. I shut it behind me, hearing it close quickly, pushing me into this conversation I had no idea about. No way out. I took another breath. Readjusting my glasses, I peered up, realising I had been looking down at my feet for the whole walk over here. Where–
‘Dr Grace, sit down please,’ Stratt! That was her name. God, get a grip, Ryland. She was sitting at her desk, her tablet turned down, still glowing a faint blue, gesturing at the chair across from her. My breath hitched and I stumbled clumsily over. I sat down, shyly shedding my coat and beanie off, hanging it on the back of the chair. I sort of felt bare without them, and suddenly very cold. I shivered.
Stratt ignored the obvious panic I was barely holding back.
‘Have you made a decision?’
‘I…’ I took a quick breath to satisfy my lungs, ‘I can’t… I can’t do it.’
‘Dr Grace–’
‘I can’t, my place is in the classroom, teaching–’
‘Stop pretending this is about your students, it’s so insulting,’
‘I’m not an astronaut… I… I can’t– I won’t be able to do anything.’
‘I don’t need an astronaut. I need a scientist. We need you, Grace.’
‘I don’t want to go.’
‘No one would.’ She paused, as if trying to let her words sink in, ‘You can die in space, a hero, or with the rest of us in thirty years, a coward.’
I tried to look up and meet her in the eye, but failed. My heart was thumping hard, as if the organ was a prisoner in my ribcage, bones for bars. I tried to focus on her words, but they all blurred under the ringing and buzzing in my ears. Gritting my teeth, I clenched my fists as she began to speak again.
‘A quarter of the world’s population will die… And that’s assuming that the world governments will ration food together… Which they won’t. So I doubled the estimate… Half of earth are relying on you,’
‘I don’t want this, Stratt. I don’t, I really, really don’t. I don’t want to go. I need to be here, and teach the generation who are going to face the misery that comes in this… this problem’s wake.’
I paused, daring to look up at Stratt as the silence stretched. She seemed to be waiting for me to make eye contact. I obliged for a moment.
‘You’re a coward, Dr. Grace. And you’re full of shit.’ Stratt scowled at me, angrily. I winced. My gaze reverted to its place halfway between the table and my shoes. Stratt carried on, raising her voice, tackling the buzzing and ringing in my ears and easily cutting through.
‘If you really cared, you’d be willing to save us. All those people, all those children.’ I felt my eyes begin to water. No. No. No. Not now. Not here. My breathing was uneven, but still quiet thankfully. Anger began to simmer, making the sadness evaporate for a moment, tearing through with fueled, fiery rage.
‘I- You can’t make me go. There are others, far more qualified. There are people who want to go. I’ll–’
‘Grace. I know you’re afraid. I understand that you don’t want to die. But you are going on that ship. You are going to help save the world. You will save the world, whether you want to or not.’
‘I can’t,’ I heard my voice waver, sadness and regret shackling my limbs and washing over me like a wave, putting the fire out instantly. I dragged my coat on and fumbled with my beanie with my shaking hands. I tried to keep steady as I carried on speaking. We both knew I was trying to convince myself just as much as Stratt. ‘I can’t do it. There’s still time. We have that list. Y-you’ll find a solution.’
‘You are my solution.’ Blood pounded in my ears. I fiddled with my glasses, to better see Stratt’s face, lip-read and make sure I wasn’t hearing things. ‘I’m not trying to convince you… I’m just trying to get you to understand what I’m going to do next.’
Wait. What? The door behind me opened as Stratt called a name. I couldn’t hear what she was saying anymore. I stuttered a few slurred words, nothing that made much sense. Fear clawed at me, crawling up my skin like the growing shadows as the clouds covered the dying sun outside. I turned around, and saw a man, wearing a white lab coat. He had a briefcase, which he plopped down on Stratt’s desk as he passed me.
‘This may seem like me betraying you, but this is actually me believing in you.’ Stratt said softly. The noise seemed to die around her voice. She stood, getting out of the way, as armed security came in, ready to hold me down. ‘You will be put in the coma early for your safety.’
I stood up, ignoring the harsh scraping noise the chair made. ‘Are you sure?!’ I shouted incredulously, or maybe sobbed. I couldn’t tell. ‘It sure feels like you’re betraying me!’ I locked eyes with the man as he opened his briefcase, taking out the needle that would seal my, and humanity’s, fate. ‘Wait… Please… Let’s talk about this…’ I held my arms out in front of me, as if they would do anything. I backed away into a corner, cursing as I realised what I’d done. The two security guards came towards me, arms outstretched to sit me back in the chair.
‘Dr Grace! Sit down! Make this easier for everyone!’ Stratt’s voice cut through the din once more. Ignoring her completely, I kicked my chair over, into the man’s ribs as he flicked the syringe he held tightly, steadily.
The man groaned. While the other two were in shock at my resistance, I ducked and bolted for the door, nearly slamming into the corridor wall. I heard footsteps rushing after me already. Shouts arose, making my head spin and spin. The silhouette of Stratt, outlined against the glass pane of her room, held a phone up to her ear, already busy with something else.
I felt sick. My insides roiled. Terror clogged my throat, slowing me down. I didn’t want to die! I didn’t! I really didn’t! I heard footsteps getting closer and orders and commands drawing near. I had to get out of here. My breaths came in panicked bursts, as if I’d forgotten to breathe in between the shallow gasps. I ran on legs I couldn’t feel. As fast as I could, almost as fast as my mind. Thoughts chased each other, leading to dead ends. I only prayed that I would meet no actual dead ends. The noises of footsteps increased as more people pursued me.
I could see the fence. Maybe I was going to live. The barbed wire stretched around the whole base. I could see the forest beyond, where I could lose these people. If I made it, I would live. I stumbled, tripping over my feet in my blind, truly blind panic. I might live. My vision had abandoned me for panicked, terrified tears. I reached the end of the buildings. The fence was in touching distance. I was going to get there. I reached out to fling open the gate. I was going to live. I was going to live. I was going to live!
Suddenly, I felt a bone shattering, jarring impact to my side, knocking the wind right out of me. Shit. I screamed as I hit the floor, kicking, writhing, flailing in resistance and pain. My glasses had been shoved away, likely cracking from the noise I heard a second later. Fuzzy shapes phased in and out of sight. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I grabbed at the ground desperately, trying to dig my way out of this. Dirt began to clump under my fingernails. I felt about four pairs of hands, pushing me down, shoving my face to the dirt, attempting to keep me still. I was going to die. I was going to die. These… I was being sent to my death.
‘NO! NO! I can’t do it!’ I screamed to the ground, to the sky, to them, to Stratt, to the world. I sniffed, wishing to cling to the smell of slightly damp grass, if it was the last smell of Earth I would have, save for the coppery scent of blood. Stars and pain bloomed like the flowers in the grass around me, that would grow and live for years to come, where I was dying.
A shadowy, fleshy face came down to my side, an evil, silver needle in his gloved hands. He had no pity or regret, nor sympathy, in his eyes as he held the needle to my exposed neck. I tried to punch or kick him, but someone slapped my face. I winced and screamed back in fury, but it was muffled by the dirt in my mouth.
‘No. No, I can’t. Don’t do it. Don’t–’
I cut myself off, as the sting hit me before numbing almost instantly. I blinked once. Twice. Thrice. My hands still clawed at the ground, trying to bring some of Earth with me. I hoped I would still have dirt under my fingernails when I woke up on the Hail Mary. I felt my face being pushed upwards roughly. I could see the sky. There was the barbed wire, the fence that had been so close. And the dark, brooding clouds, lit by a fainting, pale rainbow, its mocking colours and childlike hope laughing in my face. That would be the last bit of Earth I ever saw. Oh, I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to go to space. I felt another needle pierce my neck.
My screams died in my throat. Screams and shouts failed and so did whines, whimpers and whispers until silence shackled me.
I choked on air as the world went black, darkness swallowing my vision.
I choked on air as the world gleamed fiercely, bright light burning my eyes.
Silence failed and so did whines and whimpers until I finally made enough noise for a shouts and then screams. I instantly sat up, tugging at my hair painfully with one hand. The other ran up and down my arm, grabbing it so hard it turned pale. My nails dug deep into the skin, scratching it when I moved or jostled, which was practically every second. My heart raced so fast I could barely hear it. Questions formed in my mind, but panic sealed them away in darkness. I gasped for breath.
It was so cold. I shivered violently, my hands shaking so hard they looked like they were in two places at once. I couldn’t see anything. My ears rang, blurring the noises around me. Where–
There was a light blinking. It was red. Was that bad? That was bad. Did I do something? Oh god. What did I do wrong? Red meant I did something wrong. I tried to look away, trying to focus, but it was still out of the corner of my eye, flashing like crazy. It was so bright and red and- calm down! Oh no. Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no no, no.
My hand fell down to my shirt and clawed at the collar. It felt like it was so tight, choking me, forcing the limited air out of my lungs. My throat was sore, and I couldn’t make a noise beyond the ragged, quick breaths. I wondered why and when I’d stopped screaming and shouting. My shirt had never felt this tight before. Right. Focus, Ryland, focus:
What did I teach my kids to do if this ever happened to them? Luckily, it wasn't often it did. Five… Five things I could feel? Maybe? Ok. Ok. I could feel the pain in my arm, wait, pain? What? Focus, you idiot! I could feel the itchiness of my shirt, the way it was sticking to my skin with sweat. I swear, it had never been so uncomfy and itchy before. I could feel my trembling fingers against my chest, when did I lower them?! Was that five? That was four, right? I could feel something vibrating. Maybe something was malfunctioning. And that’s why that red light was still obnoxiously blinking. Wait, wasn’t it five things I could see, then four I felt– Come on, pull yourself together, Ryland!
I hugged my knees to my chest, still scratching my arms, and buried my face in them. The ringing and brightness followed me. I breathed hard, trying to even my breath, with any type of technique I could remember. Nothing worked, not that I could remember much beyond the stupid square breathing. Tears pricked at my blurry and haze-filled vision. Where in the world were my glasses?
The vibrating was getting closer. What was it? Something falling apart? Was I about to be pushed out into space? Was the ship breaking apart, right down the middle–
Wait... ship?
I looked up around, fumbling around until I found the cool metal of my glasses and raised them to my face. I intended to be looking up, but I was still looking at the floor. Any control I felt I had, which was limited, felt like it was dying alone and afraid. I felt a push against my side, so rough it knocked off my balance, just like–
I squeezed my eyes shut and breathed deep, ignoring my screeching mind, and the hundred thousand alarms blaring in my head that I couldn’t heed. It was so bright and painful and loud and cold and hot and– I couldn't breathe.
‘Grace! What is happening, question?!’
My breath trembled, a sob I couldn’t quite smooth over. I tasted salt on my lips. I could suddenly feel the liquid falling down my face, rolling down my cheeks then plopping down, not quite on the ground, but on a sort of prism? A ball of sorts?
Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.
Rocky. I bent down to the floor, looking at the jagged silhouette. He slammed a limb to the wall of xenonite between us, trying desperately to reach out to me.
I looked at him, my fingers reaching out to brush the wall, but failed, my depth perception wildly off thanks to the storm of tears brewing behind my eyes. I wrestled with my vocal cords, but they felt like they were stranded, back on Earth, left in the dirt. Blinking rapidly, I pushed back the tears in an attempt to make out the muddled world around me. The air around me tasted like poison, but I managed to calm my breathing slightly. It was still ragged and uneven, but quieter now. Not that he could tell the difference. I tried to muster myself to say his name. It felt on the tip of my tongue, but I just couldn’t open my mouth. If I did then I’d sob or say something stupid, or an apology or something equally dumb. I closed my eyes shut again. My hands curled and I unconsciously started fiddling with them wildly. I heard a confused, cautious chirp break through the din in my head.
‘Grace is okay now, question? Why so loud-quiet, question? Grace usually make noises during sleep, but not like this. Rocky not like. Can help, question?’ Rocky was mercifully quiet too. He seemed to understand something about what was happening, even though he likely had no idea what I was doing and what had happened. He shifted around a little anxiously. I tried to smile or make some effort to acknowledge his words but failed miserably. I could only stare at him, having collapsed and pushed his carapace against the wall, his sign for a hug. I couldn’t bring myself to go forward, or touch anything or do anything, I couldn’t trust myself with anything-
‘Grace, can hear my voice, question?’
I barely nodded after a moment's hesitation. My eyes were wet and red-rimmed again. I didn’t resist them this time. They simply fell onto the xenonite ball, making an odd noise that messed with my maze-like mind.
‘Can speak, question?’ I gently shook my head, even as I tried to speak again. This time I managed to open my mouth, but no sound came out, just like when-
‘Grace, Rocky is here. Grace Rocky on Hail Mary. Everything okay. Statement.’
I let my knees fall away from my chest and my hands followed suit a few minutes later. Maybe it was minutes, maybe hours. Rocky didn’t move, only watched quietly as I fought myself inwardly.
‘S-sorry, Rocky. I’m… I’m okay.’ I meekly managed.
‘...Liar.’ Rocky knew when I lied. He said it was something to do with how my heart acted or my voice sounded or if I bit my lip and clenched my fists. I could still hear my heart thumping frighteningly fast against my ribcage. Rocky pushed one of his hands against the xenonite barrier softly. This time I raised my arm to do the same. We both stared, then something clicked. I wrapped my arms around the ball tightly, as Rocky pushed himself firmly against the wall, physically as close as he could get without burning my skin to a crisp. Rocky trilled, a low frequency, one that typically meant worry, the Eridian equivalent of a furrowed brown or frown of discontent. I turned my head slightly, wiping my eyes with my shaking hands. Sniffing softly, I pushed myself back, curling into myself again. I hated the way my teeth still chattered, so I tried to clamp them together, to give Rocky one less noise I was expelling off.
‘Rocky go get Grace blanket–’
‘No! No, no, please… stay w-with me for a minute.’ I whispered desperately. I knew I sounded pathetic. Rocky had survived over forty years alone and I couldn’t survive five minutes without freaking out. I forced a clipped breath to my lungs, bringing my knees to my chest once more.
‘Rocky can help, question? Grace was still and quiet then suddenly wouldn’t be either. So loud. Rocky worried.’ Rocky shifted to give me a little more space, but still be close. ‘Grace need distraction, question?’ Rocky asked tenderly, before turning around. He found what he sought and pushed it through his little malleable panel. It was Earth. My little, plump beanbag that had travelled with me this whole way. The colours faded and threads frayed and bare. Europe looked a little worse for wear. It made another lump form in my throat. I reached out a trembling hand to touch it. It was beautifully warm. I enjoyed the touch of Rocky’s atmosphere for a little moment.
I wished I could give him a proper hug. Or have him just sit next to me, without a barrier separating us. I looked down at my beanbag, a simple object that had once been used in my classroom, for a game, a stupid, wonderfully stupid game. I loved it when it hadn’t travelled nearly fifteen years in space. I squeezed it gently and rolled it over in my pale, sweat-slicked palm. My hands no longer dug at my hair or my arms. Rocky trilled happily and tilted his carapace, the Eridian way of smiling. He hummed, frequency stable as I managed to even out my breathing and heard my heart beat begin to slow.
My mind wandered as I looked at the little beanbag. Stratt had held this. She had put it on the ship with me, along with all the books and video games she knew I liked, and the way she had changed the nannybot to give me my preferred cup of coffee. Stratt had packed all my shirts, my spare pair of glasses that hadn’t cracked when I had hit the ground. She had given me little things that had meant a lot. I could still remember waking up and looking at all three of the astronauts’ (well two astronauts and then me) bags. Yao and Ilyukhina’s names were sewed beautifully onto their bag. My name was taped on, written hastily on a piece of paper. I had wondered why that was for so long. I held the beanbag of Earth tight, trying to force all my memories into it and not let them escape again. I sighed deeply.
‘Th… Thanks Rocky.’
‘No thank. Rocky only want Grace to be okay. Grace feel better, question?’ Rocky asked quietly, confusion still evident in the way he had tilted his carapace, yet caution lingered in his voice. I nodded subduedly. I did feel better, I suppose. I was certainly more grounded, thanks to Rocky. Sadness still waltzed through me, but the tempo had slowed and the two dancers had fallen apart into a slow, steady rhythm.
Rocky moved over and let me lean atop his xenonite wall. I breathed long and deep. Rocky hummed softly, a usual sign he was waiting for more, but in no rush yet.
We stayed like that for a while. I didn’t dare try to sleep again just yet, but closed my eyes and let the world dim for a bit. Rocky was still, listening to my return to stability.
‘What happened, question?’ Rocky asked, breaking the silence. I wonder how long the quiet had stretched, a cloak we both wore, yet was banished as easily as it was conjured. I wondered how I should explain it, if I could explain it, for that matter.
‘I… Sometimes when we humans sleep our minds make us relieve a situation we hadn’t processed properly before. It feels like it’s happening… right then, and you can feel everything, you don’t realise you’re asleep until you wake up. They’re called nightmares… or flashbacks, I suppose,’ I whispered softly, voice still croaky from the shackles of sleep that hadn’t loosened, and the screaming. Why did you scream, you idiot? You were a coward, no amount of screaming and kicking will change that now. Rocky pondered this for a little while. He seemed both understanding and still confused.
‘Is that why Grace louder in sleep than usual, question? Muttering and mumbling as if you were talking to someone, chest thumping too hard, as if you were running…’ I rubbed my face and stretched, wondering if I could end this conversation before I spiraled out of control again. I had to get a better grip on myself, what’s past is past and nothing is going to change what happened by panicking about it and scaring Rocky. I hadn't thought of my actions scaring Rocky. He had been scared enough, seeing his crew die around him, and not knowing why. I would do all I could to make sure Rocky never felt that kind of fear of not knowing again.
‘Yeah, bud. I was… thinking about my last few hours on Earth…’
‘When Grace was–’
‘Y-yeah. But, I’m okay now. I’m sorry if I worried you,’
‘No apology!’ He banged a limb to the floor of his hamster ball in little anger that wasn’t really directed to anyone. ‘Not your fault, human brain is silly and annoying. Thank for telling Rocky.’ He paused, before asking, ‘Grace need hug, question?’ I sighed and moved forwards to hug my Eridian friend once more. I smiled softly, truly for a few seconds, a little ghost of warmth making my skin’s colour begin to show again.
‘Sorry is like my favourite word you know.’
‘Rocky know. Rocky banning the s-word. Rocky go get Grace blanket, question?’
‘Yeah… Yeah okay. And I am really sorry Rocky, if I scared you. I mean it.’
Rocky chirped softly, leaving to get my quilt that I had left in the lab by accident somehow. I… I don’t know how to feel about what Stratt did… It was the right thing for humanity but also so, so wrong. I’m sure she would’ve done it if she had the chance.
I reached for the beanbag which I had plopped in my pocket. I squeezed it gently. It reminded me of the school. I missed the school, the kids, the teaching, the- everything about it really. I missed my life. I missed the life I hadn’t given up freely, the life I had fought and wished to keep. I missed the life I once had, peaceful and quiet, unimportant and maybe slightly boring to someone else. I really missed it.
But as Rocky reappeared, with my warm quilt, and my computer, asking to watch my favourite film, I smiled softly. Maybe this life wasn’t so bad either.