This is something a bit different, it's a fictional short story I've been working on. The story has much to do with themes of isolation, love, hope, and the need for human connection, all set to a science fiction backdrop. I hope you enjoy this little introduction!
A blinking light. One solitary blinking light, illuminating the dark chamber in pulsing rhythms, but always on time. Shapes could momentarily be made out - a silhouette of a chair, a small bed - not fit for more than one. The rest of whatever could be in that room was shrouded in the darkness of night, or at least what seemed to be night.
Then a beeping sound came on. Soft, but still piercing through the silence. It was enough to capture the attention of the single inhabitant in the room.
He opened his eyes. He was met with the same darkness that had lingered in the room for so long. It was cold, but not unusually cold. His feet made contact with a metallic surface, just rough enough for his feet to grasp. His hands reached to the side of the bed, and he lifted himself up.
It was hard to breathe. The low oxygen indicator had been on for the past week or so. Maybe it was finally up, he thought. Maybe all the O2 had run out, and soon he would inhale the last of it. But he did not remember there being a separate indicator for the total loss of oxygen. No, this was something else entirely.
He looked around, not seeing much at all. His hands groped around until they found a light switch. He pushed the tiny lever up, and in an instant the first cabin room was illuminated.
The cabin was a pristine white shade, with octagonal paneling. Cables and cords ran on the ceiling and the floor through the whole length of the room, hooking into grids and computers. On the left side of the room, close to the entrance, there was a single octagonal window. The view was very dark and hazy, but one large object could be made out.
Earth. With its blues and whites and oranges, its giant oceans of water and people. There it was, a pale blue dot, spinning and spiraling below him. Six billion people’s lives beginning and ending, the plot of everyone’s existence unravelling right there. He was privy to it all, witness to everything. He was a lonely spectator, orbiting just above the heavens. That wasn’t his mission, but it had become his life.
The spectator stopped for a moment, and just stared at the orb. Home was so close, and yet it could have been on the other end of the galaxy. This thought had pervaded his conscience for the last few years. He was stuck in this space station, and all he could see was the place he used to call home. He wanted out. He wanted to leave so badly. He wanted to be on Earth, and smell the real air again. To hear something besides machines and the hands of time winding down his days. Or to feel a cool breeze upon his cheek. He needed to be back. He needed to see someone, to hear someone else’s voice. He longed for that one thing, the one thing we take for granted since the day of our beginning. The one thing we’ve taken for granted since the beginning of time. The one thing we long for, more than anything else.
He finally wrenched his sight away from the planet, and re-focused on the beeping light. The astronaut moved himself to the control panel. It was full of keypads and bright lights, and it took up one whole side of the cabin.
The astronaut looked carefully at this light. It had never lit up before, so he had no reason to understand what it was warning him of. He quickly looked around to try and notice something, smoke or a loose pipe. He found nothing of the sort. His mind was racing now, and his hands started to shake. This happened often to him when his mind was moving fast.
He sat down in the chair positioned in front of the control panel. He sat there with his hand resting on his forehand, silently calming himself down. So far, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He should be fine, or so he hoped.
He turned back to the control panel, with a clear head. He punched a few numbers into the keypad, and a screen lit up, “O2 Levels - 3 days left” His gut wrenched. He knew that his time was running short, but now that he was faced with such little time the notion of dying became less appealing. He clicked the screen off, however, the other light was still beeping and flashing.
The astronaut turned and looked underneath the control panel. He got down on his knees and reached for something. He pulled out a manual with instructions on running the space station. It was dated from the mid 2000’s, so it was quite old. He flipped through the pages until he found the diagram for the control panel.
That’s when he noticed that the manual was written entirely in a foreign language. Out of rage, the astronaut threw the book down and flopped on the chair.
Suddenly, the room grew darker. The lights were still on, but the natural light from outside had dimmed. At first he didn’t notice, but he slowly lifted his head up. He looked around, but didn’t find a culprit.
His attention was drawn back to the octagonal window. But instead of seeing the Earth, he saw nothing. It was black.
The astronaut stood up quickly and ran to the window. He couldn’t make out anything. He ran into the next room and looked through the windows, and still nothing.
Then, a new light came from outside. Bright white, and in high concentration. The whole station was illuminated.
The astronaut looked out of the window on the ceiling. What he saw, he could not believe. He was overwhelmed. It couldn’t be, it simply couldn’t. The astronaut dropped to his knees with tears pouring from his eyes, and his heavy breathing caused the glass to fog.
A vessel was directly outside, orbiting him. The ship was docking with the space station.
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