by Sean Clark
A lump forms in his throat and his nose tingles slightly. He swallows hard. There is a distinct burning feeling in the back of his eye sockets.
Cecil.
A voice floods into his mind, the same as before, but louder and clearer. His head shoots up. “Mother?” He mouths.
Cecil.
Cecil’s head pans back and forth, trying to seek out the source.
Cecil. I know this feeling.
The voice seems to come from all around.
It is you I feel, Cecil.
“Who’s there?” He shouts. His voice echoes against the hard walls. The reverberation dies out, and Cecil begins to listen quietly for the voice. There is no footsteps or movement around him. The only sound present in the chamber is the acute pounding of his heart. The voice returns.
I have wanted once more to make contact.
“Who are you? What are you?” Cecil continues to swing his head around trying to determine where the voice is coming from.
Cecil.
“I don’t understand.” Cecil shouts, jumping to his feet. His legs still waver. The voice invades his senses like the constant humming that he had become accustomed to over the last few days.
Understand. Understand, Cecil. I don’t understand. I want to understand.
Cecil covers his ears. He can hear his muffled breaths and the sound of his heart pounding louder. The humming begins to reverberate in a similar fashion. His head aches and temples thump with each beat of his heart.
“Get… out… of… my…head!” Cecil digs his fingernails into his scalp behind his ears.
I feel you, do you not feel me? Cecil.
Cecil’s legs give way and he collapses to the floor. He makes contact with the cold grate on the ground, sending a shock into his limbs. “Be quiet!” His voice echoes again. “I don’t want this. This isn’t real. This can’t be real. You’re just in my head!”
Cecil curls up into the fetal position and places his head down against the floor, wrapping his hands behind his neck. The skin on his face feels warm. His breathing is heavy and sharp. Dizziness overtakes him, and the world goes dark.
__
Cecil awakes to being shaken vigorously. He sits up stiffly, feeling pattern of the grate imbedded in his arm.
“You alright?” Comes a raspy voice above him.
“Thirsty.” Cecil utters groggily.
“Did you wander out here looking for something to drink? You should have woken someone up.”
“Agrippa?”
“Yeah, let’s get you up.” The old man clicks his tongue, grabbing Cecil by the arm. Cecil weakly rises to his feet.
Cecil stumbles along with Agrippa behind him, heading back in the direction of the sleeping area. Inside, Agrippa sits him down on a cot and hands him a metal jug. Cecil unscrews the top and chugs down the cool liquid.
“I got him.” Agrippa announced, a radio nearby echoing the transmission. “When we woke up your cot was empty, and we assumed the worst. You know… a blind man wandering around unmarked tunnels that lack most of the basic safety measures.”
Cecil holds his midsection. The water sloshes around uncomfortably in his empty stomach. Agrippa moves down close to him and speaks in a low voice. “This may not be a good time but… I’m sorry about last night… If I seemed too forceful. You are right… I barely know you. However, that doesn’t stop me for worrying. I’m just trying to put myself in your shoes for the moment. It was brave of you to come back here so you could lend help, especially with the bad memories this place probably holds for you. If you do end up staying here on planet… whatever the decision might be… perhaps you would be more comfortable being stationed at the main installation.”
“No.” Cecil interrupted him, suddenly remembering the voice from before. Agrippa steps back, and Cecil hears him sit down on the cot across from him.
“Very well then... I can’t force you to change your mind. For the moment, though, don’t you think you should wait until you’re at full strength?”
“I can’t, I have to stay here.” Cecil mumbles.
“What do you mean?”
“Last night… I heard something. It felt like my mother’s voice… speaking to me.”
“I can’t play games like this with you, Cecil.” Agrippa says, agitated. “I need you to be serious. It must have been in a dream.”
“I know what I heard.” Ceil hears a few of the men around react, and he drops his voice. “It was my mother’s voice, speaking to me.”
“After you woke up, you said you had heard something as well. Then, in station control, you acted as if you were hearing a voice or something.” Agrippa drills him.
“That’s it.” Cecil admits. “I keep hearing this humming, like we heard when we first came down here. It’s like something it trying to communicate with me.”
“Now you’re telling me that it sounds like your mother’s voice.” Agrippa lets out a pensive hum. “This isn’t something to be taken lightly, Cecil.”
“It is like a voice now, it was unmistakably hers.” Cecil presses on.
“How can you be so sure about that?” Agrippa retorts.
“It just is.”
“When’s the last time you heard her speak… your mother’s actual voice?”
“Months, I guess. Over a year perhaps, if you count my time being frozen.” Cecil explains.
“What’s the last thing you remember her saying to you, in person?” Agrippa pauses. “In her exact words.”
“I couldn’t tell you that…” Cecil sighs.
“No, I wouldn’t assume so. They say each time you recall something, you’re simply going back to the last time you remembered it. After a while, the memory is just a shell of what it once was. Your brain replaces aspects of it over time. Now tell me again… do you really think you heard your mother’s voice? Or was it what you remember it could have been?”
“Why are you doing this to me Agrippa?” Cecil’s voice wavers. “Why can’t you just let me have this?”
“You need to be able to differentiate reality from what you find in your imagination. Perhaps also… I just want for you to better understand yourself as well. God knows, I can’t do it for you.”
Cecil snorts, laying down on the cot and rolling over away from Agrippa. The old man continues to speak. “To be honest, I dunno about all this stuff. To begin with, I’ll ask around if anyone has experienced something similar or felt anything strange. For now, you get some rest. I’ll leave a ration here on the cot for when you wake up. Please… please don’t run off again.” He pleads.
Cecil wants to respond but his body is exhausted. He closes his eyes, trying to conjure up the sound of the voice. The words repeat over and over in his head until sleep finally overcomes him.
Interest
Cecil sits up with a jolt. The room is illuminated with an array of pale orange lights, and there are people stirring around him. “Oh, you’re awake?” Comes Agrippa’s surprised voice.
Cecil lets out a weak groan. “Yeah.” He says, clearing his throat.
“Have a bad dream?” Agrippa speaks concerned. Cecil feels him place a ration in his hand.
“Sleeping like this is still a weird feeling… you know, not just being in a coma.” Cecil laughs weakly. The hair on his arms stands on end, and a shiver makes its way up his back. He wraps his coveralls up over his shoulders and pulls the zipper up. “I used to have a recurring dream as a kid though. Sometimes it comes up, but… not for a while now.”
“Would you like to tell me about it?” Agrippa says, mouth full of food.
“No, no. Looking back on it, it doesn’t hold any effect on me anymore.” Cecil pauses. “I’m not sure you would care either. What time is it?” He unwraps the ration and starts to nibble on it.
“You shouldn’t ignore something like that.” Agrippa shakes his head. “Maybe your dreams are trying to tell you something. Stress is obviously getting at you, and it’s no helping you sleep any better.”
�
��The only stress I have is coming from you.” Cecil says, agitated.
“Nonsense. Either way, you’ve managed to stay in bed a good part of the day. We’ve stopped work for today anyways. I could have woken you, but I figured you needed your rest. Besides, we got the most important part of it done yesterday. We only need to hook the generators into the batteries and grid down here, and we’re set.”
Cecil continues to bite off bits of the borderline stale food bar. “Did you find out anything? About, you know… the voice?” He asks optimistically.
“People just looked at me like I was crazy myself. I still have yet to contact my connection at the station, so just stay put for now.”
Cecil shoves the last chunk in his mouth and pushes himself up. “Damn. I just kind of feel… anxious now.”
“What do you mean?” Agrippa asks.
“I don’t know how to put it… anxious that it could be just my imagination… that I might never hear it again.” Cecil shakes his head.
“Maybe you’re anxious thinking that you will hear it again.” The old man poses. “What would be more disturbing to you?”
“At this point?” Cecil shrugs. “I think I’m afraid that I’m unable to trust my own senses… my hearing, my touch… my own psyche perhaps.”
“The fact that you’re considering that means you have some sense of clarity.”
“I can’t even remember the last time I was able to think clearly.” Cecil stretches his arms above his head. “It’s too loud in here... I’m going to walk around for a bit.”
“Want me to come with?” Agrippa asks.
“I’ll be fine”
“I don’t doubt you will. Go ahead.” Agrippa suggests. “We’re turning in soon… many of these guys haven’t had the luxury of full nights of rest for quite a while.”
Cecil ignores Agrippa, guiding himself out of the room. He can remember taking the same path as the previous night. The floor creaks slightly under his every step. He soon approaches the same zone of cool air as before. Apart from his footsteps the chamber is deathly silent. His knees start to quiver in a feeling of anticipation.
He tries to recall the words spoken ay him the previous night, calling his name. Cecil. It had said it couldn’t understand. Cecil swallows hard and takes a seat on the floor.
He imagines his mother… imagining her mouthing the words that he heard the night before. In his mind, her face appears, her lips moving, but no sounds come out. The words don’t seem to match either. Parts of her face are blurry, as if he can’t remember. Her eyes… she had brown eyes, but he can’t picture them. They were lighter than his, and almost matched her hair color. He tries to focus harder. The image of her inside his mind begins to deviate, becoming someone who he doesn’t recognize. He shakes his head, ridding the projection from his mind, and opening his eyes onto the pale darkness.
The room remains still. There is nothing, not even the humming. He calmly shifts himself into a more comfortable position, taking a deep breath. One minute passes. Cecil tries to block out any thoughts, focusing on the sound of his breathing… in and out.
Time seems to tick away in isolation from the rest of space. His breath tickles slightly as is whooshes out of his nose. The cool air is soothing on his face. He had become acutely aware that the skin on his face emitted a faint warmth, like a sunburn. The air in the room is a pleasant break from the sensation.
More time passes. Drowsiness overtakes him, but he shakes himself back to attention.
Cecil.
Cecil hears the sound, but refuses move or respond.
Cecil.
It comes again, and he decides to speak. “Why me? What do you want with me?” He exclaims, shooting to his feet.
Cecil.
“Why, out of all people, are you contacting me?”
Because you made contact first.
“I don’t understand.”
It was you who made contact, a simple touch, sending waves forth. I responded in a similar fashion. However, you took it poorly. You disappeared from me.
“The pool. I touched the surface, breaking the stillness.”
You understand.
“I don’t know.” Cecil ponders out loud.
But you have returned.
“It wasn’t my intention to be here.”
Perhaps not, but thanks to that, I am once again able to communicate with you.
“You attempted to contact me before, have you not?”
Ever since that first time, yes. The others like you, I learned from them your way of communication.
“I still don’t understand. I… I hear you… feel you even, but I don’t know what you are. As far as I know, you’re just my feelings and memories playing tricks on me in fucked up ways. When I heard you last night, I could have sworn I was hearing the voice of my mother again. It’s something I haven’t heard in over a year… and now it’s something I will never get the chance to hear again. Do you understand that?” Cecil rants, pacing heavily. The grate below him bounces slightly under his weight.
I’ve taken in much information here. You, all of you, interpret sounds by receiving vibrations through the air. I communicate and comprehend in a similar way.
“That doesn’t explain to me what you are. Are you a part of the pool? How do you ‘feel’ me? None of this makes sense.”
Sense. Sense is perhaps a better way to explain what I do. I sense even the smallest of vibrations from all over. I sense the sound waves in the air here. I sense the electronic signals in your body, your nerves that make you move. I sense many things, but there is still much I don’t understand. I want you to help me understand.
“Like I said, I don’t understand.”
I constantly feel things that are new and strange. I felt you… many of you, many cycles ago. Many of you arrived. I sensed it. Still you were very far away and I could sense very little. I had to allow myself to feel far and wide to gain even the smallest understanding. Then you came closer. It was you, specifically. I was unprepared for your sudden contact, but it made me understand better that which had sensed before. It made me wish to experience more. More of you came, but it wasn’t you specifically. I could only sense you very far away, and very weakly. Those who came here were disruptive, and they did not stop. I tried to contact you, but I felt you were unable to respond. Then much later I sensed you near once again. That is now.
“Are you talking about us humans? There are many like me, why not talk to them?”
Once again, I do not understand. I feel as if I became in tune with you when you entered into my being. Since then, I have been following your patterns of though… experiencing your memories and self-reflections as you experience them yourself. I know your memories and feelings… your pain, your sadness, and although I cannot understand some of them I can share the burden if you want to help me understand.
“Fuck you. I don’t want you in my head like that. You can’t begin to understand. If you did, you would know how perverse invading my being like that is. I struggle to deal with these thoughts every day.”
I feel you, you are beginning to let down your defenses, letting Agrippa know these things.
“Agrippa is a human being.” Cecil yells. “The human brain is one thing. You can examine it for as long as you want, but it will never reveal everything that makes up a person. Only another human being can come to understand that.”
You want to know what you should do. Stay here or go back. That is your internal struggle, is it not?
“No amount of introspection will give me that answer or help me forget that there is nothing left for me, neither here or on Earth. If you wanted to bring me peace, you’ve done the opposite. I’m talking to some detached voice inside my head. How is that supposed to make me feel? It’s like I’ve lost contact with reality. The only thing you can do now is show me the way back to it.”
As Cecil’s voice echoes and fades out, it is replaced with silence. A small shiver runs up his neck. A faint lapping sound breaks
the tranquility. Cecil strains to listen for it, emanating from inside the room.
“Cecil?” A voice comes, echoing from down one of the halls- Agrippa’s. Cecil feels the floor grate bounce up and down as his footsteps grow closer. “Thank god I didn’t find you passed out again.”
Agrippa’s hand reaches out and grabbed Cecil’s, pulling him to his feet. “I didn’t really feel good about leaving you out here with no good way to get back.” He stops suddenly and stepped away from Cecil. “Do you hear that? Cecil, the pool looks like it was disturbed. I knew I heard something strange. Did you try and touch it again?”
Cecil freezes. He is unable think. Agrippa grabs his hand and pulls him away quickly. The lapping sound of the pool sending ripples against the bank echoes in his mind. Cecil remains silent as he is pulled along halfheartedly. Agrippa speaks up. “I don’t know what you’re doing out there, all alone, but I don’t like it.”
“Mmm…” Cecil grumbles.
“Cecil I’m serious. I heard you talking, but that’s it… no other voice responding.”
“It isn’t my mother’s voice after all.”
“It doesn’t matter whose voice it is. I sent an emergency transmission to my department just now. We’re going to get you back over to the station tomorrow morning. I feel like you need a break from this place.” Agrippa announces. Cecil grimaces as the old man tugs him back to the sleeping quarters. “Try not to think about all this nonsense. You need some proper rest, and then tomorrow we can get this all sorted out.”
Cecil resists the urge to lash out, and takes his place sitting down on the cot. He silently ponders the voice and the sound of the ripples. He lays back and sleeplessly is engulfed by the thoughts and feelings that would not process in his brain. Agrippa begins to snore lightly in the next cot over.