Obscura

by Joe Hart

  Gave me a weird feeling.

  I’m being paranoid, I know. It’s the stress of leaving. I’m seeing bad omens everywhere I look. [Laughs.] Wow, I need some sleep.

  [End of recording.]

  File #179083. May 31, 2028.

  [Inaudible.]

  Launch day. It’s ten hours before I leave Earth, but that’s not what I’m dreading.

  What I’m terrified of is holding the little girl in the bedroom next door while she cries and clings to me and begs me not to go. She’s not coming to the launch. If something goes wrong like the Challenger mission . . . I . . . [Inaudible.] I thought I could do this, but now . . .

  Carrie had a lapse yesterday. I was at Kennedy, and Kat didn’t tell me about it until I got home. I’m not sure if I’m grateful she can handle everything while I’m gone or supremely pissed off she kept me in the dark. Carrie was playing with Kat’s dog (his name is Goat—don’t ask), and after about thirty minutes outside, she rang the doorbell and asked Kat where her house was and why I wasn’t there. She didn’t remember my sister at all and didn’t recognize the house we’ve been staying in for the last few weeks.

  [Deep breath.]

  Katrina brought her inside and had her lie down, even though she was scared of being in a “stranger’s” house. She fell asleep, and when she woke up, she was better. No screaming this time, but next time . . .

  Kat assured me she was up to this, even with her being pregnant. She’s strong and very capable, and I love my sister, but she’s a lot like other people who’ve never had to deal with the challenges we have. I’ve lost track of how many times she’s quoted Bible passages at me since we got here. And last night when she saw I was having a hard time calming down about Carrie’s lapse, she handed me Mom’s rosary and told me to take it with me when I left. I know I shouldn’t have, but I was angry, and I asked her what she supposed God’s purpose was for Losian’s disease. In the great framework of the Almighty, why had my husband been taken from me, and why was my little girl now being pulled in the same direction? She looked like I’d slapped her.

  If there’s a God, he’s like Eric Ander, and we’re all the mice in his experiments, being turned inside out over and over again.

  [Recording pauses. Resumes.]

  I keep going back to the design Carrie was making on the beach the day I saw Ander shift for the first time, the concentric rings in the sand around her. I wonder if that’s what I’m doing by leaving, creating waves that can’t be called back.

  [End of recording.]

  ELEVEN

  Now

  The pressure vanished.

  Gillian drew in a stuttering breath, consciousness coming back like a hammer to her temple. The weight was gone from her chest and extremities. In its place was an odd freedom she couldn’t describe. And quiet. The roar of the engines became a memory.

  Something moved out of the corner of her eye, and when she looked, a digital clipboard floated past, turning slowly end over end.

  “Clear of atmosphere and main rocket is detached,” Carson said. He turned slightly in his seat. “Can you grab that checklist that got away from me, Gillian?”

  “Uh, yeah.” She grasped the edge of the clipboard and pushed it toward him. The board glided across the space between them and into his waiting hand.

  “Thanks.”

  She started laughing.

  It wasn’t conscious. Suddenly it was bubbling up from her like an untapped wellspring.

  “Wild, isn’t it?” Carson said. “Everyone laughs, you can’t help it.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “You can unhook here in a second if you want and get the full experience.”

  “Is that safe?”

  “Completely. In fact, you can check on Birk and make sure he’s okay. Think he lost consciousness shortly after ignition.”

  “From the acceleration?”

  “I think it was nerves.”

  “Oh.”

  Gillian unhooked her seat harness, fumbling through the suit’s thick gloves before managing to free herself. As soon as she was clear of the straps, true weightlessness took over, and she found herself beginning to float toward the front of the shuttle. She laughed again, pushing herself back before she invaded Carson and Lien’s space. Gillian had met the command pilot only once before takeoff, and the other woman had been professional but cool in a way that cemented the impression that Gillian was the outsider.

  Beyond the two pilots, the shuttle’s windshield was a blanket of black, pinpricked with stars unwavering in their arctic brightness. She was looking at the universe for the first time without Earth’s atmosphere impeding the view. A sense of awe nearly as powerful as seeing Carrie for the first time after she was born settled over her.

  “Wow,” was all she could say.

  “Well put,” Carson said.

  “Approaching vector attained,” Lien said, breaking the reverence of the moment.

  Gillian tore her eyes from the view, maneuvering away from the forward cabin while avoiding Tinsel’s gaze. The man stared straight ahead, his calm reasserted and belied only by his ashen complexion.

  Birk began to blink behind the clear lens of his helmet as Gillian faced him, his eyes finding her. “You are . . . flying, Doctor.”

  She grinned. “Astute as ever. How do you feel?”

  “The same as the weeks before this. Sick as a horse.”

  “Sick as a dog. Healthy as a horse,” she said, patting his helmet lightly.

  “Birk, the evacuation mouthpiece is at the base of your helmet. If you’re going to be sick, put your lips around it and vomit into the opening. It’ll keep your helmet from filling up,” Carson said.

  “Very couth,” Lien said.

  “I’m all manners.”

  Birk groaned and leaned his head forward, finding the mouthpiece as Gillian floated past him, squeezing his shoulder once as the sounds of his retching filled her earpiece. A fist of nausea gripped her as she drifted to the rear of the cabin, all sense of direction gone as the shuttle shifted around her. But the sensation didn’t catch her by surprise; if nothing else, the hours spent in the parabolic flights had done their work preparing her for the assault on her system. She pulled herself even with the rear port window and looked out.

  Earth filled up the entire viewing pane.

  Its horizon was a blue-scribed line against the blackness of space, its surface mottled with clouds drifting in islands of white over oceans. Receding by the second was an unfamiliar coastline, the water around it an insane Caribbean aquamarine.

  She found herself searching for Florida’s coast.

  Searching for where Carrie was.

  Tears flooded her vision, blurring the surreal sight of the Earth falling away, of everything she loved fading.

  This is how Kent felt, how Carrie must feel now. Everything familiar becoming indistinct.

  She shook with a stifled sob, knowing the rest of the crew would hear. For several minutes it was all she could do to suppress the shuddering sorrow mingling with the raw beauty before her as silent tears gathered in her eyes.

  “How’s it look back there, Gillian?” Carson asked.

  She cleared her throat. “Incredible.”

  “Nothing like it.”

  “No. I don’t think there is.”

  Six months. Six months and I’ll be home.

  “Visual of EXPX confirmed,” Lien said. “Docking sequence initiated. ETA fifteen minutes.”

  There was a brief pause before Carson said, “Gillian, you’ll want to get hooked back in before we dock.”

  She guided herself to her seat, bumping into the compartment’s roof several times before managing to settle in beside Birk, who was breathing deeply with his eyes shut. Nestled in the inky dark ahead of the shuttle was a sliver of light like a slit in space. As she clicked the last of her seat belts closed, the shape took on more definition.

  The space station was sleek and narrow. What she could only assume was the front, if the facility had s
uch a thing, was a dagger that grew steadily wider before fanning out in a spoke pattern supporting a circular structure encompassing the entire rear of the station. As she watched, patterns of windows glowing with light materialized down its side, and an image of a 747 taking off, people gazing out its portholes, flashed inexplicably through her mind.

  The station continued to dwarf their shuttle until it filled the entire view, blotting out everything beyond it.

  “Transferring from manual control to patterned docking protocol,” Carson said. “Initializing paired rotation.”

  The shuttle jerked, shaking them in their seats as it turned slightly and flew alongside the rounded portion of the station. It was then that Gillian saw the circular motion of the wheel compared to the streamlined center of the facility.

  “It’s spinning?” she asked as another jolt shook the shuttle.

  “The crew and research areas are, yes,” Carson said, leaning forward to flip a switch on a control panel. “The rotation simulates gravity. It’s not perfect, so it’ll feel a bit strange for a while until we’re acclimated.”

  “Acclimation,” Birk said in a whisper. “What I wouldn’t give for sweet acclimation.”

  They all chuckled as the rotation of the station and shuttle began to match.

  The shuttle turned to its side, and the station slipped out of sight, the vastness of space taking center stage once more, hypnotizing Gillian in its infinity.

  “Docking sequence commenced,” Lien said. “Attachment in five, four, three, two—”

  Her countdown was cut off by a hollow boom and a hard jerk to the right. The strap over Gillian’s shoulders dug painfully through the suit.

  “Little late there, Lien,” Carson said. The comment was met with silence.

  “Are we secure?” Tinsel asked.

  “Yes. Let’s unhook, and we’ll get moving toward the docking module. We have gravity now, so use your handholds and the ladder at the rear of the crew compartment,” Carson said.

  As Gillian released the buckles on her seat once again, unease spiked over her like cool water amid a hot shower. She frowned. The launch had gone well. They were safely outside of Earth’s atmosphere and attached to the station. Everything was going according to plan.

  So what was bothering her?

  She chocked the sensation up to nerves and helped Birk rise from his seat. The earlier weightlessness had vanished, leaving her weaving on her feet like a punch-drunk fighter. Carson flashed her a reassuring smile as he filed past her in the tight space. Lien followed close behind, avoiding her gaze.

  They moved in a short line to the back of the crew compartment, where a nondescript set of bars led upward, if there was a direction in space. Carson climbed first with Lien going next. Tinsel followed while Gillian tried steadying Birk as the big man swayed in the artificial gravity.

  “I think I can feel us spinning,” Birk said, grasping the ladder as Tinsel’s feet disappeared through a port above.

  “Try not to think about it,” Gillian said, keeping her hands on his suit’s belt as he began to climb.

  “Like the white bear.”

  “What?”

  “Telling someone not to think of a white bear only makes them think of it more.”

  “Well, don’t think of a polar bear either.”

  “Are you trying to distract me, Doctor?”

  “Is it working?”

  “No.”

  “Just go.”

  The port above the ladder was small enough that Birk had to reach one arm through and thread the rest of his torso afterward to enter the chamber beyond. The airlock itself was a featureless room barely tall enough for her to stand comfortably. When she’d cleared the port, Carson latched it and pointed to a row of long hooks attached to the airlock’s wall.

  “We’ll leave our suits here. They’ll only slow us down inside, and we won’t need them unless we go back to the shuttle.”

  They removed their gear, placing the various articles on the hooks and below in designated lockers. Beneath their suits they all wore insulated blue coveralls, with a single zipper running from the lower right leg to the left shoulder. The interior of the shuttle had been almost sterilely cold, and she’d been thankful for the warmth of the coverall and suit, but now, beads of sweat were forming on her sides and back, the air stale and cloistering in the lock.

  “Okay, everyone, we’ll get you settled before we do a quick briefing. Follow me, and for now, don’t touch anything,” Carson said, stepping up to the wide door set in the end of the airlock. He scanned a small key card across a control panel, and the door slid open.

  Gillian forgot to breathe as she stepped through the entry.

  They stood in a long hallway stretching away in both directions. The walls were an off-white and looked like plastic, though she doubted they were. Radiance came from intermittent panels on the floor and sides of the hall, while above them the walls rose up and gradually came together nearly three stories overhead. It felt as if they were standing inside an enormous cone. Straight across from the airlock, a ladder climbed up to the pinnacle ceiling and ended at another port. The station’s design was strangely unnerving. It was almost like trying to make sense of an optical illusion.

  “Follow me, everyone,” Carson said, motioning them to the left as he strode away. “As you noticed from our approach, the crew and research areas are circular, utilizing centripetal acceleration or centrifugal force to imitate gravity. It’s about fifty percent of Earth’s pull, so you’ll be able to do things like this.” Carson suddenly took two quick steps and leaped into the air. Instead of coming down immediately, he soared a dozen feet or more before landing. He grinned over his shoulder. “Kinda fun, but be careful, it can be disorienting.”

  “I’ll say,” Birk said, walking with a hand sliding along the nearest wall. “It feels like there’s a sinkhole in the center of my skull.”

  “Don’t worry,” Gillian said, patting his arm. “All of my postgrads had that problem.”

  “It may be the lower gravity, but your jokes are less funny here, Doctor.”

  She smirked, keeping a hand on his elbow to steady him.

  “The ship’s central structure is zero gravity and can be accessed by any of the ladders you’ll find along the wall,” Carson continued. “On the opposite side are the crew laboratories as well as berths. Each door leads to a hallway for access to the rooms. As you probably noticed already, we’re not walking on a rounded floor. To keep logistics and work habits in mind since this whole thing is like one big Ferris wheel, the inner construction of the wheel, as I like to call it, is squared off so the floors, rooms, and halls are all ninety-degree angles, except for where the hallways meet. These, you’ll see, are gently curved for transition purposes from one quadrant to the next. Otherwise, when you came to the adjoining corridor, it would feel like you were meeting a wall before stepping onto it and walking up it. Which would be really weird.”

  Ahead the floor began curving in a strange upward direction that Gillian had trouble interpreting until she and Birk started walking on it.

  She felt as if she should have been falling backward, but gravity pressed her firmly to the curve before the next hall flattened and stretched out before them.

  “That was beyond wild,” she said as a slight bout of vertigo swept over her and receded. Birk merely moaned.

  “Hang in there, Birk,” Carson threw over his shoulder. “Like I said, the wheel is divided into four sides, with Quad Four being Research; Three the galley and lounge areas; Two is Stasis and Control; and One, which we’re in now, is personal quarters.”

  “I’m going to find Easton,” Lien said, glancing at Carson, who nodded. Without giving them another look, she set off down the hallway, disappearing around one of the strange vertical corners a moment later.

  Carson stepped up to a door mounted opposite another ladder, and it opened without a sound, sliding into the wall as he walked through. “Tinsel, you’ll be in berth four. Birk, b
erth two, and Gillian, you’re in five. You’ll find a toiletry kit in the closet along with extra sets of clothes. There are windows in nearly all the rooms, but we typically keep the shutters down to avoid vertigo caused by visually registering the wheel’s rotation. If you want to peek outside, do so at your own risk.”

  The new hallway was narrow, branching to the right and left in a “T” a dozen yards down from where they stood. Tinsel glanced around once, his color not yet fully returned, before grimacing and entering his room.

  “I think I should lie down if possible,” Birk said. His pallor had grayed considerably since they’d entered the airlock, and he swayed as if on the deck of a ship.

  “Sure, right in here,” Carson said, guiding the big man through the next doorway on the left. “Yours is around the corner, Gillian. Go ahead and get some rest if you’d like. I need to take care of a few things, but I’ll wake you once we’re ready for the briefing.”

  She took two steps down the corridor before stopping. “Carson?”

  He glanced at her as Birk vanished into his berth and the door slid shut again.

  “Where is everyone?” she asked.

  “They’re in Quad Four.”

  “Fifty-five people are all in one section?”

  “Yeah.”

  She watched him, unease rippling through her again.

  “Get some rest,” he repeated, his smile frozen in place as he turned away and disappeared through the entrance to the main hallway.

  She stayed rooted in place for nearly a minute. The walls seemed to absorb sound, and she mused she could hear the rush of blood in her veins if she listened intently enough. A sinking sensation that had nothing to do with the artificial gravity filled her stomach.

  Something was wrong.

  Stop it. You’re nervous.

  She let her breath leak out in a long sigh, then walked around the corner and found a doorway with an illuminated “5” over it.

  The door whisked open as she approached.

  The room was Spartan, with only a twin bed and a steel desk as furniture. A lanyard with a small gray square attached to the end was coiled on the desktop. A stool was positioned before the desk and bolted to the floor. Two doors adorned the opposite walls. One slid open, revealing a small closet complete with a half dozen jumpsuits identical to the one she wore, while the other led to a stainless-steel bathroom with a shower stall that looked as if it would have to be entered sideways.