Thank you! It's nice to get some feedback on this thing that's been taking up space on my computer for no good reason! Beware.... this chapter is a long one -

Part Seven

 He could still remember how it all began. Although it seemed like a lifetime ago, it was in reality only perhaps six weeks. The radiation had been taking a terrible toll. For nights on end, he had slept fitfully, awakened repeatedly by bizarre nightmares and hallucinations. Grotesque creatures chased him in fog-shrouded dreams. People he knew, and some he didn’t, dead, alive and somewhere in between spoke to him, asking queer riddles, and demanding answers that he didn’t know.

He felt his sanity slipping away with each restless night, and exhausted day. How he would be able to keep up with the required work, with as little rest as he was getting, he didn’t know. It was a question he found himself having to contend with every day.

He had dozed off at his work console, his head down, saliva drooling from his lip. How long he was asleep was uncertain, but a shrill pulsing beep roused him quite effectively, and he sat upright, startled. He looked around, confused, still half asleep. The alarm ceased to sound, and was replaced by a bright red flashing bar across the bottom of his computer terminal. It flashed red, with white letters that read “ATTENTION: PREPARE TO BE BOARDED BY RESUPPLY CREW. VESSEL WILL DOCK IN FORTY MINUTES.”

That was all it said, and it only scrolled across his screen once. His heart thudded heavily in his chest. A ship would be coming here? The re-supply ship was coming! Would it be an automated process, or would there be people?

A grin passed over his lips at the thought. People! He wasn’t sure, but it was a thought that he just had to play with, turning it over and over in his mind. If there were people, he didn’t know how long they would be here, but he didn’t care. People! He was going to see someone else. Oh, just to hear another human voice. The very idea was nearly overwhelming. His mind raced with a thousand things he wanted to say to them, to ask them. Just to carry on a conversation with them!

The next forty minutes dragged by, as he paced around the OSO, looking out the viewport every few minutes, watching the white speck getting closer. An entire lifetime passed, until finally the vessel attached itself to the docking enclosure on the underside of the OSO. It was inadvisable for a person to be near the airlock when a vessel docked, due to the possibility of a mishap. It was a standard safety precaution on all space vessels, as explosive decompression was a distinct possibility in the vicinity of any airlock. A deep, vibrating thump shook the floor as the vessel docked. He waited, impatiently, until a small green light appeared on his control console, assuring him that the docking had been accomplished successfully, and it was safe for him to proceed down to the sub-level of the OSO.

At this notification, he ran to the small supply elevator that would drop him down to the sub-level, got in, and as the door closed, he pressed the lever that would activate it. Nothing happened. He tried the lever again. Still nothing. Damn! This must be some sort of precaution the administrators had taken – locking out the elevator, so he couldn’t descend when the re-supply vessel was here. That way he would have no contact with anyone else.

But this close, there was no way he was going to be denied. Oh! Just to see another person!

Without hesitation, he frantically began to pry at the panel that covered the elevator control mechanism. He had no idea how long the vessel would be docked, and he had to hurry. He administrators would surely either be watching right now, or would realize soon enough afterwards, what he was doing, and oh how they would punish him. But that was a bridge to be crossed later. For now he was focused entirely on this moment.

He crossed two fiber-optic cables, and twisted one of them so it would make contact with a small control valve. The override was complete and suddenly the elevator jerked into motion and dropped into the sub-level.

Moments later, the door opened. He was shocked at what he saw; people. There were people! several of them, dressed completely in black plastic-looking suits coming out of the airlock. He couldn’t see any distinct features on any of them. Even their heads and faces were obscured by bulbous black helmets. One stood at the now-open airlock, large weapon in-hand guarding the vessel, standard practice in case the individual incarcerated tried to overtake the vessel and escape his sentence on the OSO.

Two other people walked between the re-supply vessel and the OSO, hauling boxes of food, cleaning agents, water and miscellaneous other items he would need for the next few months. He ran right up to one of them, smiling, unable to contain himself, overjoyed at seeing another person.

“Hey! Hi guys! How are you?”

None of them replied, but silently went on with their business.

He followed them back and forth, like a lost puppy that had found its master, darting back and forth in front of them. “Um… it’s been a long time since I saw anybody. Heck, since I even talked to anybody. Are you guys out from earth? Is that where you’re based at?”

No answer. As one of them turned and headed back to the re-supply vessel, he followed, chattering away about all manner of things, desperately trying to elicit some response. The figure in black said nothing, but merely walked briskly. All business. Nothing else.

“Hey, c’mon,” he pleaded, “please say something. Anything. I’m dying to talk to someone.”

There was no response. The person got to the airlock and stepped across the threshold, into the hatch of the re-supply vessel. Not paying attention to where he was, he tried to follow, and was quickly reminded of his status as a prisoner, by the guard’s weapon slamming into his chest, knocking him to the floor.

It happened so fast, he hadn’t even seen it coming. He sprawled onto his back, shocked by the pain in his chest. He rolled over onto all fours and slowly got up, gasping. The blow had landed squarely in the center of his chest, leaving a feeling like it had separated his ribs from the sternum.

“You… didn’t need to… do… that” he said, gasping.

The guard had assumed a defensive stance, now pointing the far more dangerous end of his weapon, and with his left hand, motioned him to stay back.

He now knew that the guard would brook no intolerance of the standing rules. He stood, wincing at the pain, still fresh and hot. “Geez. I just wanted… to talk to someone. C’mon, you must know what it’s like. Just say something.”

The guard stood, frozen in place, his weapon large and menacing.

“C’mon! Say something!” he said, nearly yelling.

No response.

“Anything! Say anything!” he was clearly yelling now.

Still nothing. This was too much. Behind him, the other two people were going about their business, hauling boxes, seemingly oblivious to the drama unfolding before them. He felt his pulse throb in his temples, the pain in his head having overtaken the pain in his chest.

He felt his blood pressure skyrocketing with each passing moment, fueled by absolute rage. Here he was, billions of miles from home, condemned to live in this icy, metal can, as isolated as a person could possibly be, going insane from a lack of sleep, and a lack of company. It was all too much! All this to contend with, and now, there were actual people he could talk to. No, that wasn’t true. He wasn’t talking to them, but at them.

Damnit! Why wouldn’t they talk back! He was begging them for some form of communication, and they wouldn’t talk back. They could, but they wouldn’t! What were they afraid of? That the administrators would somehow see or hear them? Although it was entirely possible, he thought that if they had any shred of humanity in them, it would be a risk they’d be willing to take. He just wanted to hear a voice. God! Anything to hear another voice!

His heart raced, as he fought to come up with something he could say, something he could do that would provoke them to respond. But nothing came to mind. He was getting more and more angry with each passing second, knowing that soon they would leave, and he’d be right back where he started, with no one to talk to, and not even a pleasant memory to savor of a few words uttered by a voice other than his own.

He could take no more. His anger was such that now he didn’t even care if the guard spoke or not; he only wanted to hit him. Punish him for being so cruel! Abruptly he charged, fully intent on knocking the guard down, unleashing the full fury of his pent-up anger. He was fairly certain that he was quick enough to avoid being struck again; and, he reasoned, even if he wasn’t, his rage would help him gain the upper hand, and momentarily set aside the pain of the blow. Once the guard “understood” how unfair this all was, then he would succumb to the pain if need be.

He saw that the guard was caught off guard by his sudden lunge, and he felt a moment of triumph, his hands reaching out in front of him. At that moment, all of reality seemed to slow to a third of its normal speed. He seemed to float toward his target, his scream of rage having become a deep, rumbling growl. The guard staggered back, looking intoxicated and unsteady at this new slow speed. He was assured that he would gain the upper hand, as he saw the guard coming closer. Closer! He felt the fabric of the guards uniform brush his fingertips, when suddenly a blinding pain pierced the muscles in the back of his neck. His vision turned red, as though looking through a filter. The red color slowly faded, and the light dimmed, as he fell to the floor. His own voice, now a howl of pain was deep, slow, and unfamiliar to him. The light dimmed even more, and then was gone altogether.

 

He opened his eyes, on-by-one, and found himself staring at the wall next to his bed. Was this another dream? He was afraid to know. Most of the time these days he was unable to distinguish between dreams and reality. Most of the time, if he was unsure, merely going through the motions of what he was supposed to do, just in case he was really awake.

He felt the cool, stiffness of the sheets and pillowcase against his skin, smelled the non-odor that everything here had; a sign of its antiseptic cleanliness. He realized he was lying on his side. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, half expecting the view to change. It didn’t. He was still in bed, still staring at the wall.

He closed them again, and rolled onto his back, a dull ache in the back of his neck and head, making him wince. He exhaled a long slow breath through pursed lips, in an effort to assuage the pain he was feeling.

A pulsing red glow off to the right caught his attention, and he turned to see what it was. There on the small table at his bedside, sat a round silver disc, barely bigger than the palm of his hand. On its front edge was a small crystal, looking almost like a ruby. A ruby that pulsed with a warm, almost soothing red light. He stared at this thing for a moment, not knowing where it came from, or why it was there. The blinking red light seemed to beckon him. Perhaps it held some clue to what had happened. How he ended up here in bed.

Uneasily he reached a hand out to the disc. The crystal emitted a small invisible beam that activated the mechanism within the disc, when his hand passed through it.

“Hello.” A disembodied voice spoke.

Startled, he abruptly sat up in bed, and looking around suspiciously, asked “Who said that?”

“I did.” The voice claimed, coming from a blue glow that hovered above the disc. Slowly, the glow took on the twelve-inch-tall form of one of the black-suited people from the supply vessel.

“Who are you?”

“That’s not important. What is important” said the tiny figure as it removed the huge round helmet, revealing the face of a middle-aged man, with a beard and shaggy hair, “is that this isn’t really me. It’s a hologram of me that’s fully interactive. You can ask me questions, talk to me, whatever you want. However, I’ll only last for five minutes. After that it’s phhhhffffft!” it said, waving its tiny translucent arm “and I’m gone.”

“What’s this all about? Who are you?”

“Well like I said, it’s not important who I am. I’m just one of the guys from the re-supply ship. But I want to help you. That’s why I left the hologram.”

“Help me? Help me h….owwww!” he had tried to stand up, and pain flared hotly between his shoulder blades, forcing him to sit back down on the bed.

“Yeah, I’d watch that.” Said the tiny translucent  image. “You didn’t suffer any permanent damage, but the stun effect of our defense weapons isn’t very pleasant. It’ll wear off in a few hours, and you’ll be good as new.”

“What do you mean you want to help me? How? And why?” he said reaching over his shoulder, rubbing the stinging spot on his upper back.

“Well, I got my reasons. Personal reasons that I’m not gonna go into. Besides let’s just say I think you got a raw deal. I know you think so. I looked through your file on the way out here, and for what you did wrong, I feel like this punishment is way too much.”

“Yeah, I’d agree with that. I mean all I did was…”

“Hey buddy, you don’t gotta convince me. I’m on your side.”

“But how did you get my file? I thought that was sealed after the trial? Nobody is supposed to see that without a need to know.”

“True. True. But I’ve got connections. I wanted to know what I was dealing with.”

“Dealing with? But you’re just part of a re-supply crew. I don’t get this. What personal reasons are you talking about?”

 “Look you don’t have to ‘get it’. And like I said, I got my reasons, and I’m not gonna talk about ‘em, so drop it. Let’s face it, you got the shaft. But I got something that can help out people in situations like yours. I wanted to see if you were the kind of guy that is deserving of that help. I wouldn’t do this for some shit-bag, lowlife. But like I said, I think you got a raw deal. You could say I felt… sorry for you.”

“Okay, y’know, I don’t need your pity. I don’t know why you’re doing this, but…”

“You don’t need my pity? Okay, fair enough. You don’t need it, but you might want it after you hear what I’m offering you. That is if we don’t run out of time before I explain it to you. You got about two minutes left.” The hologram lifted its tiny arm, as if looking at an even tinier watch.

“You could get in all kinds of trouble for this.”

“Hey tell me something I don’t know already. Whether you realize it or not, you’re helping me out a lot, too by letting me do this for you. So let’s just say it’s to our mutual benefit, huh?”

He thought about it for a few moments, then licked his lips. “

Okay, how can you help me?”

“Alright. That’s more like it. What I can do for you will make the next two years easy to handle. Well, not easy, but easier. I’ll make it so you can leave your little prison cell.”

“Leave? And go where? Look, I’m in enough trouble. If I break out of here, they will find me. And do you know what they do to escapees? They…”

“It’s not like that. You can leave, but you don’t have to go anywhere. You’ll always be there if the administrators decide to look in on you.”

“What are you talking about? I can leave but not go anywhere? That’s doesn’t make any sense.”

“The only place you’ll go” it said, tapping its little head, “is right in here.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Your memory. You’ll escape into your memory.”

“Escape into my memory?” he chuckled, “What the hell does that mean?”

“Think of it this way; you remember things all the time, and most of the time those memories are good ones. Pleasant ones. Ones you’d like to re-live again, right? I can make it so that you get to do the next best thing to going back and re-living them. You won’t go anywhere, so you can’t get in any trouble, and you’ll get to re-experience only the things you want to. Have a favorite memory? You’ll get to be there and go through it all over again. And it’ll seem so real, you won’t know that you’re not really there. Sounds like a great way to spend your spare time, huh? Better than re-reading the same crappy book over and over again. Too much more of that and you’ll be climbin’ the walls.”

“Well yeah, sure. There’s some things I’d like to do again. But…”

“Tick tick tick.” Said the little figure. “You got about thirty seconds and I’m gone.”

He thought about it. The idea did sound good. Sure he thought about the past an awful lot. There damn sure wasn’t much else to do around here. But the memories were just that: Memories. They served no real purpose other than to remind him of what he could no longer have, and that just pissed him off. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. There were some great things he’d like to relive, but if it was really that vivid, what would happen when he actually realized that it was indeed just a memory? That he wasn’t really there? That couldn’t possibly be healthy for a person. But still… what if he could relive the time Sheila came over to his apartment? God, she had looked so good, wearing that slinky little blue cocktail dress, cut low in the back. No sooner had he opened the door and let her in than they…

”Hey, come on there, buddy. What do you think?”

“Okay, so how does it work?” He blurted, desperate to find out more. It suddenly sounded quite appealing.

“There’s a small machine I left downstairs on your work console. It’s got two flexible tubes, and a blue orb on the top. Stick the tubes in your nose – not too deep now. Y’don’t wanna cause any permanent damage.”

“In my nose…?”

“Yeah, your nose. The olfactory sense is the strongest sense you have that’s tied to memory. Once the tubes are in, place your hand – either one – on the blue orb at the top. It’s got a sensor that can read your thought patterns, just by physical contact. Any physical contact, but it works best with your hands. It reads any memory you want to re-live, and it generates a smell that’ll help you remember it. The smell comes through the tubes, you close your eyes and voila! There you go, on a little trip down memory lane. And it’ll be vivid. Colors, sounds, you name it. Believe me, it’s the next best thing to being there.”

“So why are you giving it to me? What’s in it for you? There must be some reason…”

“Hey pal, you’re helpin’ me out more than you can imagine. And on top of that I got a soft heart. I’m a real humanitarian. Hahahaha.” The sound of the tiny laughter continued for several moments, even after the image itself had faded.

“But where did you get it from?” He blurted. Silence answered him.

He sat on the edge of his bed for a long time thinking about it. Was it really as good as the little hologram had said. No, how could it be? Maybe it might enhance his memory a little, but it couldn’t be as good as advertised.

He wished the hologram would come back. It was really nice to have talked to someone for a change. Even if it wasn’t really a someone, but a something. But this whole idea about re-living memories sounded like nonsense. Why was it left here? Or was it left here? All he had was a minute electronic voice saying all of this. There was no proof.

He decided to walk downstairs and see for himself. He glanced at the clock and saw that it was now early morning for him. Usually by this time, he’d just be waking up. Looking at the stairwell, he saw that it was dark down there. Of course it would be until he placed his first foot on the stairs. Then the lights down there would come on as he walked down to assume his shift duties.

The smell of fresh coffee reached his nostrils, and he thought back to yesterday. And the day before. And before that. The never-ending routine played across the theater of his mind, and it suddenly dawned on him, that the smell of the coffee had triggered this flashback. Was this the same kind of thing the hologram had talked about? Unsure, he walked over to the coffee maker, lost in thought and oblivious to the cold metal floor under his bare feet. The smell was even better, the closer he got to the source, and the warmth of the mug against his hands was somehow comforting.

He sipped the coffee, as he walked and just as it had done a hundred times before, the touch of his foot on the top stair caused the lights below to come on, dimly at first, but coming up just a fraction with each step he took.

Arriving at the bottom step, he looked across the room, and there in the brightening light, it sat on the work console. He walked over and looked at it. In innocuous looking thing, it was. It was cylindrical in shape, but wider at the bottom, altogether no taller than his knee. The top, he noticed, had a dull blue orb, just as the hologram had described. And there, coiled around it, held in place by a small elastic strap, were the two tubes. The tubes he was supposed to put in his nose. He still had a difficult time accepting that part of all this.

He would have to put some serious thought into this, but in the meantime, he had to get started on his shift duties. He put down his coffee mug, and lifted the machine, finding it surprisingly light. He put it on the floor next to his console, sat down and began performing the duties he had become so accustomed to.

For the next twelve hours he monitored information on solar wind, radiation, and the constantly shifting electromagnetic spectrum. The data that the computer ingested, was a constant stream of sounds and numbers that he was required to collect, filter, process and disseminate, and it offered very little free time. But even so, during those few spare moments, he found himself looking down at the machine, it’s dim blue orb a large eyeball, staring at him, questioningly like that of a dog, begging its master for attention.

What would it be like? Would the sensations it brought on be pleasant, or frightening? Would they be dull and bland or alive with sound and color? And, he wondered, would he have the courage to try it? But above all else, did he want to? That was the big one.

Later that evening, when his shift was over, he was still unsure about the machine and what he expected of it. Although busy, he found himself glancing at it constantly throughout the day, but he hadn’t touched it again, since setting it on the floor. He trudged across the room and up the stairs to his living quarters, the light in the room below dimming and going out once he’d reached the top.

The material that the food generator provided was an almost tasteless, colorless paste. Supposedly it had all the nutrients and fiber his body needed to sustain itself, but overall, the entire exercise of eating was a sullen affair at best.

When he first arrived here, the material so offended his palate, that he couldn’t even bring himself to eat it, and so only drank water. But after the loss of thirty pounds of body-weight, he found himself constantly weak, and dizzy, so he decided that he would have to force himself, if necessary, to eat. Or at least to swallow the paste, since the act of eating was something a person usually enjoyed.

He sat at the small kitchen table – room enough only for one and indeed only one chair provided – and picked at his food. The cynic in him rose up again subconsciously, and chastised him for even calling it food.

All he could think about was that machine. He wanted to give it a try, but for some reason he couldn’t quite name, he was apprehensive about the thought of using it. He went to bed that night, determined to wait for a few days. That way he could take his time and think about it.

The room was dark, as he had commanded the computers to leave it. The only illumination was the soft almost non-light coming from the stars outside his viewing window. He stood in the darkness, staring at the thing, unaware of the quiet hum of the OSO’s machinery, to which he’d become so accustomed.

Although he didn’t understand, he now realized that the thing was somehow beckoning him. He doubted if that was entirely true, but it was most certainly how he felt.

Kneeling beside it, he touched the machine’s cold, smooth surface, and he shuddered, feeling both menaced, and comforted by it. His hand slid up the side, feeling the flexible tubing, and then the round top, a cool glassy surface. The entire experience was almost hypnotic.

He shook his head, jarring himself back to the present. Taking a deep breath, he lifted the thing and carried it back up the stairs, commanding the computer to keep the lights down at twenty percent.

He put it on the small table next to his bed and lay down, still staring at it in the dim light.

The elastic strap stretched easily, allowing him to free the tubes. He checked their length, and the height of the machine and found that both were sufficient for him to insert the tubes, and place his hand on the orb at the top, and still lie down.

He looked at the tubes one more time. In his nose. He was supposed to put them in his nose. Well, he thought, steeling himself, if that’s what was needed, then that’s what he would do. Maybe, if this thing worked the way it was supposed to, then he might actually relax and get some sleep. God knew he needed it. With each night that passed, he felt his sanity slipping away, from the lack of any real rest.

He gently inserted one tube into his right nostril, finding it not as uncomfortable as he expected. He let go of the tube, testing to see if it would fall out, and finding it sufficiently in place, he inserted the other. He lay back, pulling the sheet up to his chest, sighed, and reached his right hand up and placed it on the orb. Immediately the orb began to glow, a very dim, soft blue. It was comforting to look at, but he put his head back and closed his eyes.

What did he want to think about? He needed a memory – a really good one to test this machine. But it wouldn’t come easily. There were too many memories he wanted to re-live. His mind was a swirl of images from the fishing trip he took with his father, when he was twelve, to the first time he kissed a girl, to the thrill he felt when scoring a touchdown in his touch-football league. There was too much to think about, and he immediately felt overwhelmed, trying to settle on a single event.

Exasperated, he sat upright.

“Lights off!” he commanded and the room was suddenly, completely dark, as the orb had ceased to glow when he sat up and removed his hand. He sat there, feeling incredibly self-conscious with tubes dangling from his nose. But as he was the only one there, so he decided to ignore it. He determined that he would think of something before he lay back down again.

He forced his mind to come to a halt, so he could collect his thoughts. What was it he wanted right now? He realized that he was sweating. It seemed too hot in here, and he was about to tell the computer to reduce the temperature in the room, when he concluded that this would be a good test for the machine. He wanted to re-live a memory of a cool day. Maybe not a cool day, but certainly at least a cool breeze. Would the machine work with just a vague inclination of what he wanted, rather than a specific memory? He didn’t know, but that would be his test. He exhaled, and smiled to himself, satisfied that he’d made a decision. He lay back down, and once again reached up, placing his hand on the orb.

He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath into his mouth, exhaling it long and slow through his nose. Immediately he felt more relaxed, his weight settling fully onto the bed.

A puff of air blew across his face, interrupting his relaxation. He sat upright, irritated that the computer had decided just then to adjust the temperature by turning on the fans. At this rate, he would never be able to test the machine.

“Computer, fans off! I don’t want the fans on.”

To his left, a light caught his attention. It was the scrolling message board that was mounted on the wall by his bed, used to convey messages from the OSO’s computer to him. The letters slid past, right to left, reading: FANS HAVE NOT BEEN ACTIVATED. AMBIENT TEMPERATURE REMAINS CONSTANT AT 24C

“The fans were on. I felt it, computer. I want them off.”

FANS HAVE NOT BEEN ACTIVATED. AMBIENT TEMPERATURE….

He looked away. The fans had to have come on. He didn’t feel it now, but he was sure he’d felt the breeze across his forehead. This was never going to work if…

Suddenly, it dawned on him. What if the computer was right? No, it couldn’t have been right.

Could the machine have induced the sensation? It couldn’t have. That was no memory, but a very real sensation. He wasn’t just remembering it. He felt it. This was a sensation. A very real sensation. But memories were just pictures.

But what if it was right? The thought crept into his mind..

He decided to try it again, laying his head down almost suspiciously, as if waiting for something bad to happen. He lay there in the dark room, sheet and blanket pulled up across his chest, and stared up at the ceiling that he knew was there, but couldn’t see.

He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply once again, and let it out slowly. Nothing happened. He repeated the process two more times, and felt as though he were on the verge of falling asleep, waiting for something to happen, when a light breeze caressed his forehead. A flit of air no stronger than a baby’s breath. The feeling was so light and overwhelmed him with near ecstacy. A smile came, as the breeze seemed to pick him up, to take him away. He felt like he was floating, swooning, the darkness enveloping him like a lover’s embrace, swallowing him in its eternal pleasure. And it was right then that he realized he was no longer on the OSO.

 

Here's the link to my freebies:   https://www.renderosity.com/mod/freestuff/?uid=493127

My cousin Jack can speak to beans. That's right.... Jack and the beans talk