by Tom Cheshire
So off I paddled to the deep end. This was going to be so amazing – a whole new, bigger and better world to explore, I… Uh-oh. My feet were no longer touching the bottom of the pool. I felt my stomach churn. This wasn’t what I’d expected at all. I’d known it was going to be deeper but I hadn’t expected it to hit me in such a horrible, powerful, terrifying instant. I panicked. I flailed my arms around. Maybe it was too much for the water master after all. Back to my private bath kingdom for the foreseeable future...
You know, space is really, really big. That’s an obvious statement, but it’s worth emphasising. This was another one of those times where no matter how well you think you’ve prepared, you’re still helpless in the moment. And in the instant I’d been launched out of the airlock, I felt just the same as the terrified little kid who’d just ventured naively into the deep end. Okay, so of course the analogy is flawed. Of course I just made up that whole story about the swimming pool. I can’t remember if I ever went swimming in my previous life. Even so, that feeling of sudden helplessness was something I knew I recognised. Amnesia can’t take everything away. In hindsight, the ship had been my security. Now I really was out of my depth.
With nothing but blackness around me, all my spacesuit-clad limbs were waving around for some invisible railing to hold on to. My whole body was trembling and my breathing erratic. Every time I exhaled I made the sort of high-pitched, vulnerable sound you’d expect a snoring woodland creature to make. I shut my eyes and tried to focus on the advice I’d been given. Try to avoid spinning? I had no idea if I was spinning or not. I couldn’t see any stars to use as a reference point – I couldn’t even tell if I was moving or not, although apparently I was moving at 90 miles an hour. Not exactly reassuring.
A digital sound bleeped from inside the helmet. Even though I knew to expect it, I was still caught off guard. It was the audio comlink back with the guys on the ship. The first voice I heard came courtesy of a typically brash and unsympathetic Dom.
“What up biatch?”
That comment was unapologetically stupid, and, ironically, it was probably the best thing anyone could have said to me at that point, because now all I was thinking about was a snarky remark to reply back with. I took a deep breath and swallowed hard.
“You know, Dom, I’d love to see you write a book on professional astronaut linguo,” I replied.
“Good to know,” said Dom.
It sounded like Dom was going to say something else incredibly stupid but the sound quickly faded away.
“Hello?” I asked, nervously.
“Sorry, Joe. Had to pull Dom away from the microphone. How are you coping?” It was Chloe.
“Oh, I’m good,” I lied. “It’s really nice being out in the open.”
“Brilliant, I knew you’d like it!” Chloe said, unable to detect my sarcasm. “I’m going to pass you over to Bob, okay?”
“Hello, Mr. Joe!”
“Hello Bob. How am I doing?”
“Mr. Joe, you are currently well on track and within acceptable mission parameters, moving at a speed of 97 miles per hour with an estimated distance of 11.2 miles remaining…”
“Just tell me when I’m getting close to the sofa.”
“Affirmative.”
Another voice came over the comlink. It was Emma.
“You can do it, Joe,” she said softly.
“Thank you, Emma,” I replied. It was nice to have some motivational support.
Knock knock!
“What?” I called out. “Who’s that?”
“Are you alright, Joe?” asked Emma, oblivious.
I believe that the correct response is ‘Who’s there?’
“Who are you?” I cried. Not for the first time I found my head throbbing.
That is an irrelevant question. It’s your book. Call me what you will.
There had been no voice, as usual, but somehow... something… was there, reaching out, getting in the way.
Something? Is that really the best you can come up with? Pity. I’m disappointed in your limited vocabulary once again. You might as well refer to me as X if you’re not even going to try.
This was getting too weird for my mind to process.
IS getting too weird. Tenses, dear boy, please try to adhere to them.
“Alright then, X. What are you?”
Terrible choice of words, I must say. There’s no need for the speech marks, either. Honestly, what are your colleagues supposed to think of you spouting audible phrases at thin air?
“Joe, seriously, who the hell are you talking to?” Dom growled down the comlink.
Told you.
“It’s fine, Dom. I was just… pretending there was another person out here. Got kind of bored.” I lied, after all, I didn’t want to give the others reason to be even more paranoid about me. What was I supposed to do now? Start writing in the present tense?
It appears to be a sufficient method of communication. What do you think?
How are you doing this? Are you inside my head?
What an absurd question.
But you’re inside my book! How are you inside my book?
The book was your silly little idea! I knew I’d have to follow along. Please try to keep up.
Keep up? All I’ve been doing this entire time is trying to keep up! I’m floating around space looking for a sofa for god’s sake! I’m sorry, X, but I’d like some answers.
Would you?
Oh, stop it. Don’t play games with me. You’ve clearly been in my head. You know exactly what I want.
What’s the main priority here? Developed a bit of a craving, did we?
Alright, X, that’s enough. If you’re just going to screw with me, I’m not going to play along.
Fine, be like that. See how you like it. You can have your precious ‘book’ back. I sincerely hope you come to your senses sooner or later. Next time, you’ll be wishing you played along. I guarantee it.
Wait, what do you mean by that? X? Where did you go?
No response. Whatever had just happened, it was over for now.
“Joe, come in, do you copy, Joe?!” Chloe was screaming down the comlink. I then realised that everyone had probably been trying to talk to me for ages – I must have zoned out.
“Hello, yes, I’m here! I’m here!” I called frantically. “I… oh…” The sofa was flying towards me. Fast. There was no time to react. I collided face-on, sending the furniture ricocheting off at a completely different angle – and me flying… into a spin. Oh dear.
“Joe, what happened? What happened?” I couldn’t tell if this was Emma or Chloe talking.
“I’m… I’m… eurgh,” I was already beginning to feel sick.
“Did you find it?”
“Yeah, I found it alright...”
“Well, where is it now?”
I tried to look around but my vision was a blurry mess.
“I have no idea.”
“I thought you said you’d found it!” This was definitely Chloe.
“I’m sorry…” I wheezed. “I’m spinning.”
“Oh for god’s sake! That was the one thing we told him not to do!” I heard Dom yell in the background.
This was not good. I felt like all the blood was rushing to my head, as if I was going to pass out at any minute. I had to find some way to steady myself.
“Bob, what do I do?” I asked, desperately.
“Mr. Joe, you need to take precautions to avoid moving on an undesirable rotational axis,” Bob said.
“What?!” I yelled.
“He says you have to stop spinning,” Chloe responded.
“No shit! I think I’m aware of that!” I yelled.
“Mr. Joe, have you tried navigating into the body position associated with the tracking technique for free-falling reorientation?”
“What?!” I yelled again. My eyes were beginning to roll back in their sockets. I tried everything I could – nothing was getting me out of my spiralling mess…
I f
elt one of my legs brush up against something. For a second I thought it might be the sofa again, but then I realised it was long and thin – no, I hadn’t suddenly become excited - it was the support cable attached to my back, extending all the way back to the ship. Without being able to see, I desperately tried to grasp at it. A few vital attempts later, I finally had the cable in both of my hands.
The spinning stopped abruptly. I realised what had happened. I had saved myself by becoming tangled in a knot of my own support cable.
“Guys, I’m okay. I’m a bit tied up, but I’m okay,” I called.
“Oh, thank god for that,” Chloe sighed.
“Can you see the sofa now?” Dom asked.
I looked around, wishing I could rub my eyes. My vision had partially returned. The sofa was far away to the right, a tiny, dim speck against a vast black backdrop. It was just visible - lit only by the power of my suit’s undeniably weak flashlight.
“I see it,” I said, wearily. “It’s a bit far away.”
The next voice I heard was Emma’s.
“We’re gonna pull you in,” she said, sympathetically. “You’ve done all you can.” Somehow I knew this wasn’t going to go down well.
“Woah, who put you in charge?” Chloe yelled.
“I just think he’s been through enough…” Emma replied.
“We’re getting that sofa, Emma,” Chloe was defiant.
“Yeah. You stupid bitch, Emma, you should have gone instead…” Dom hissed.
“Hey!” I yelled. “Don’t call her a bitch!”
“Oh, look, Mr. Space Fag’s defending his girlfriend again,” Dom snorted.
“She’s not my girlfriend,” I mumbled, awkwardly. “And need I remind you, Dom, you’re the one who caused this whole mess in the first place.”
“Yeah, Dom. Shut up,” Chloe said.
“Look, I’m gonna carry on,” I announced, starting to look for ways to untangle myself from the giant knot I’d managed to get stuck in (both literally and figuratively). “But seriously guys, I need you all to try and stay cool for once, it’s doing my head in.”
“I agree, Mr. Joe. These arguments are most detrimental to our overall productivity!” Bob exclaimed.
“Well said, Bob,” I finally managed to unhook the last piece of cable that was caught around my ankles. I was free again. Time for round two.
The problem, after colliding with the sofa and subsequently getting tangled up and freeing myself, was that I’d totally lost all my momentum. The sofa was now travelling faster than ever before, and I was stuck waving my arms around trying to mimic something along the lines of an underwater breast stroke to build speed. Of course that wasn’t going to work in a vacuum, which I realised after a rather embarrassingly long period of hopeless limb flapping. I told the others about my plight and they had no answer, except…
“You could try releasing the valve on one of the oxygen containers,” Bob said. “The resultant release of pressure will be enough to drive you forwards at a significant velocity.”
“Okay, right, but Bob… won’t that mean I run out of oxygen quicker?” I asked.
“You should have enough.” What an unusually vague answer from Bob. I thought about asking him to clarify exactly how much time I’d have but then realised I shouldn’t.
“Alright, screw it.” I said. I asked how to release the valve, which turned out to be as simple as bleeding a radiator – quick but easy to mess up – and sure enough, I was on my way, a trail of white vapour spooling out behind me. I was making good speed, but I was coming in at entirely the wrong angle.
“I thought this suit was supposed to home in on objects!” I moaned.
“Correct, Mr. Joe. However, since you are providing the propulsion with your oxygen, it is up to you to aim now,” Bob explained. Terrific. At this rate, I was going to miss the sofa completely. But there was another, even more pressing issue: The cable had run out.
“Guys, it’s not going any further,” I groaned.
“Hm… Most unfortunate, it appears the sofa has moved outside of the 15 mile cable radius,” Bob postulated.
“Can’t we move the ship closer?” asked Emma.
“As I believe I indicated previously, I am not able to fly this ship, Miss Emma.” Bob replied.
“Brilliant.” Dom growled. “Just brilliant.”
I leaned on my side, trying to propel myself in the general direction of the sofa. Slowly, but surely, I found myself turning. I looked behind – I couldn’t see the ship at all, it was so far away, but that wasn’t what I was interested in. My turning motion was propagating back along the cable, currently in an arc-like shape. By the time it had straightened up, I realised I was closer to the sofa than I’d previously thought.
“Guys…” I began. “I can almost reach it.”
I had to act fast before the sofa moved completely out of view. I wasn’t quite in line with it yet, but since it was taking so long for me to make adjustments to my angle, I had to risk doing something incredibly dangerous.
I pulled the cable out. As I expected, it wasn’t fastened particularly tightly to the suit, which meant that I really didn’t have to pull very hard. I knew if I let go of the cable, I’d have a hard job trying to find it again, even with my newfound oxygen propulsion system. So I held onto the end of the cable tightly in my left hand. With my right, I reached out, as far as I could… The edge of the sofa was almost in reach. It was so close… Both arms outstretched, this was literally as far as I could possibly reach without signing a death wish.
Oh, to hell with that. I let go of the cable. I was free. I moved into a streamlined position and boosted myself with my makeshift jetpack those few precious inches towards the sofa, landing with a thud on one of its soft curved armrests. Grasping the edge with one hand, I used the rest of my momentum to swing the sofa around on its y-axis and back towards the free-flowing cable. I had one shot to pull this off, one shot to grab that cable or I was not going to make it back – the sofa was going to be far too heavy for my oxygen-jet to carry me all the way back. I stuck out my arm… The cable was swinging past… come on! No! I clipped the edge but was unable to grip the cable properly. I’d blown it. Without the cable I’d be lost to drift through space forever…
But I suddenly felt myself rotating in the opposite direction. What had happened now? I looked up. Thank God. Turns out the sofa was a far better catch than me – the cable had gotten caught on the opposite armrest and hooked itself around the upper piece of the wooden frame. With a very well-deserved sigh of relief, I climbed triumphantly onto the object of my saviour and sat down, happily, for a little while, as if resting after a long day’s work. I couldn’t appreciate the softness of the cushions in my bulky space suit but it didn’t matter. This was still the most satisfying sit-down I’d had the whole time I’d been here – no offense, Travis. I spent a few more moments taking in the view (of nothing), then figured I should probably tell the others the good news. I’d been ignoring their panicked voices for some time now.
“Joe? Can you hear me? Are you even still alive? Where are you?”
“I’m here, guys. I did it.” I announced. “Pull me in.”
“Oh, my god, Joe… You bloody hero!” Chloe was yelling amongst a general wave of cheering noises. “Well, come on then, pull him in, pull him in! Oh, what? What do you mean you can’t… oh, oh I see. Joe I’m putting Bob on.”
I sensed bad news.
“What is it, Bob?”
“It appears I have underestimated the weight distribution of the sofa and the strength of the support cable, Mr. Joe,” Bob began. “We are unable to pull the sofa back to the airlock.”
“What the hell can we do, then?” I asked, resisting the urge to throw a zero-gravity sofa tantrum.
“It is simple,” Bob said. “You simply need to retrieve the backups from within the sofa at your current location. Then you can detach the sofa from the cable, and we’ll pull you back.”
“Right, right…” I fro
wned. This mission was getting more complicated by the second. “Where are they, precisely?”
“Underneath the central cushion, you should see a small hatch marked with a red dot. When opened, you will find three small objects roughly two centimeters in diameter. You must retrieve all three if we are to deem this mission a success.”
It felt like I was about to perform a complicated surgical procedure. On an inanimate object.
“Okay, yeah, I see,” I said. “What the hell are these important things doing down the back of a sofa, anyway?”
“I do not understand your confusion,” Bob said. “I have studied human behaviour thoroughly and concluded that the back of a sofa is humanity’s favourite location for placing important objects.”
“Misplacing, you mean,” I said, shaking my head. “Wouldn’t be a sofa without some priceless artefact lost down the back of it…”
I lifted up the cushion. What could possibly go wrong now?
Lots of things, as it turned out. I’d failed to notice that while lifting up the cushion, the cable had ripped across the entire sofa; it was sharp enough to cut a massive hole through all the cushions, the pillows – everything. Before I had time to react, I found myself blinded by the sudden release of furniture innards.
“Mayday! My vision is impaired!” I cried.
“Calm down, Joe, it’s just a bit of fluff!” Chloe yelled.
I’d just managed to pull out the three priceless Bob backups, but I’d dropped them in the confusion and now they were floating amongst a sea of white foam and feathers and pieces of fabric. This was ridiculous. I’d lost the backups and my entire visor was clouded with the fluffy internals of luxury seating products. The cable – where was the cable? Caught on my left leg, apparently. I knew I had to attach it back to my suit properly, but first I needed to get those backups – I had come too far for my mission to be ruined by tiny pieces of paper-light debris.