Long: Right. We were all playing in the neighborhood, running, playing hide and seek; you know, the normal stuff. Well, my friends and I thought it would be fun to all hide from him, maybe he would have gone back home and left us alone, I don’t know. We were all hiding from him, I was watching through the bushes as he stood out on the sidewalk crying, screaming my name, trying to find me.
He was so afraid, at the time I thought it was so funny, I don’t know why, I was cruel I guess. He spotted us and with tears running down his cheeks he ran over to where we were. Of course, we ran away as fast as we could, laughing all the way. The last thing I remember, he was screaming my name at the top of his lungs; he was so scared to be alone. I just laughed over his cries for me, until he stopped all of a sudden.
I stopped running in time to see him trip and fall on the sidewalk. I ran over to him, feeling bad, his face was red from crying and tears covered his whole face. I stopped laughing and rolled him over onto his back; he lay lifeless on the sidewalk. The feeling that overwhelmed me at that exact moment has never left me; I killed my little brother with my ridiculous cruelty.
He was always doing nice things for me, wanting to spend time with me, he was alone when he died, trying to catch up with me… afraid. Of course, we told my mom that we were playing with him when he died. The guilt of that moment has been so overwhelming for me that I cannot sleep much of the time; at night, I can often hear him crying out my name, desperate to just be with me.
I have never told anyone this.
Mendez: I am glad that you told me, and that you felt like you could tell me. I’m curious: What does this have to do with what happened today?
Long: Well, this is crazy, I know this… I think he rolled my tank down to me as I was about to give up. Then I saw him in the distance, laughing as if we were playing together as kids again. As I began to ascend back up the cliff, I saw him again. He was standing right behind me before I left the ground.
If I thought that he was really there, then I would have told him that I was so sorry. I would have told him that I missed him, that he was the best brother that anyone could ever have. I missed my chance twenty years ago. I have been haunted every single day since by my guilt, a guilt that has engulfed me most days in self-hatred. My only escape is to lose myself in my study, and now my work.
I know you probably think that I should just get over it; there isn’t anything I can do about it now. You don’t know what it is like to be responsible for the death of an innocent person, let alone a child. I don’t deserve anyone’s love or compassion, so I don’t pursue relationships.
Mendez: That bit about not understanding what it is like to feel responsible for someone’s death, it isn’t as true as you would like to believe. Anyway, I don’t know what you are going through, but I can imagine it.
Zach, at some point, you are going to have to forgive yourself; you will have to move on knowing that you are not the same person that was responsible for that. Everyone makes mistakes; everyone does.
Long: I have tried, you know. Some things aren’t meant to be forgotten.
Mendez: Surely. You need to forgive, not forget.
Long: Right… Well, I am completely done for. I am going to turn in early. Good night.
As he steps out into the plaza, the sun behind him bids a final farewell for the night, the last rays of the days burst from the edge of the horizon.
The cold wind outside draws the moist air within to collect water upon the ceiling of the dome. The regular rain within the dome begins to coat everything inside the dome, washing away the dust and filth of the day.
Doctor Mendez steps to the edge of the steps as the rain begins to drip from the ceiling overhead. She stands in the doorway, watching Doctor Long as he stands in the middle of the plaza, just looking up at the ceiling. The rain falling all around him masks the warm tears that run down his cheeks. For the first time in many years, he allows himself to cry. Once he starts he cannot stop, he feels the cleansing of his tears dropping onto the convoluted canvas within him.
A strong resolve overcomes him; he will find an opportunity to be more like his brother, and less like the self-centered person that he had become accustomed to seeing in the mirror.
Mendez smiles, the spectacle before her seems to be the first indication that things might just work out, for a change.
Journal Entry
Doctor Julie Mendez
Year 15, Day 41
It seems that everyone is seeing demons out here. What is now becoming apparent to me is that the outcome here will depend on what we do with these demons. I have seen things that I would never have dreamed that I might. It has also become as evident as it ever has that beneath the glossy veneer that everyone is always putting up, they have battles within. I suppose that this is why I chose my profession.
To be able to see someone else, who has struggled their whole life against an unseen and undisclosed burden, be able to slay their demon… well, that is what makes the job worthwhile. I see that very glimmer of hope here; I saw it today in Doctor Long.
Conversely, to see those who struggle internally raise the white flag, that is hard to watch. I have spent hours today reviewing old footage and reading old journal entries. With each passing day, the puzzle before me becomes more complete. Every glimpse into the past events here is another piece. It appears that everyone in the first expedition had the same problem that we see now; they are struggling with some inner demon. They struggled against the insurmountable force from within without letting anyone know of their torment. In the end, they wound up broken and battered men. They seem to have all lost their own battles, and then fell before the mounting problems here in the dome.
I would imagine that many of them were willing to come out to this remote, forsaken world, in the attempt to flee their own demons. Sadly, no matter how fast or far you run, you can never outrun yourself.
The suit that went missing the other night reappeared in my room. Someone’s idea of a bad joke.
–End Entry–
Chapter 21
Journal Entry
Captain Jane Cardiff
Year 15, Day 41
Today didn’t go quite the way that I had planned. I didn’t get much done aside from running away from angry bees. I did get some time to review old footage, but there wasn’t anything useful, or even interesting, just people whining about their problems. Nobody seemed to have been trying to contribute to the team objective, to survive. I much prefer working out in the field; this office work is way too boring for me. I guess it could be worse; the footage could be very interesting.
I am sitting in my room, just thinking about the task that I was supposed to have done today. I will probably need to go out with someone else to site Bravo, where Prometheus is working right now. Ever since we lost Lawrence, things have been difficult for me. He was a pain, but at least I could depend on him. The only people left alive in my team do not have the same discipline that I know I can depend upon. I have spent years at war, seen men come and go, it isn’t anything new. I have never come this close to the prospect that I might just run out of people to fight alongside me.
My dreams are getting worse. It almost feels as though I am not falling asleep at all. I lay awake in bed at night, and my dreams seem to just come to me while I lay awake. I hear voices and can see movement outside my window. I need answers, and I need them now; I really needed them last week. For now I will have to go with my gut here, any slip ups from me and everyone ends up dead. I just need to keep it together in front of the team so they don’t lose the motivation to carry out the mission.
–End Entry–
Cardiff sets her tablet down next to her on the cot, where she has been sitting for the better part of two hours. Her trance is broken by movement that she spots across the room in her mirror. She slowly stands up off of the cot; her initial reaction is to look for the source of the movement in the reflection. Her plain white room seems to fade into the background, the onl
y objects that are relatively obvious to her are the sink and mirror above it. The door to the side still seems to be present in her mind, yet it holds little or no importance compared to the mirror. Her tired feet shuffle across the floor as she continues to make her way over to the sink.
She reaches out to the faucet to start the water. Just before she reaches the cold metal handle of the faucet, the handle twists on. Hot water spouts into the basin of the sink below. Steam slowly bellows out of the sink and upward. Water droplets begin to collect on the cold mirror, Cardiff’s reflection is completely obscured. She reaches her finger out into the stream of water curiously; her hand retracts with lightning quickness. She raises her finger up for inspection, the tender red finger throbs after the intense encounter with the burning water.
The water collecting on the mirror begins to crystallize, spreading out from the center of the mirror and working outward. The cold frost beckons to her, and she moves her red finger up close to the mirror. Upon contact with the mirror, cold relief surges down her finger into her arm. The sound of the door latching to her right moves her head to see why it has suddenly shut without being touched. The cooling sensation passes within a few short moments of pressing her finger to the mirror. Relief turns to agony as the cold continues to surge into her swollen finger.
She pulls her hand back toward her, but she manages only to move herself closer to the icy mirror. She raises her other hand to brace against the wall. Once again, she tries to free her hand from its frozen captivity, this time cracks surge through the ice. Her hand is still steadfastly secured to the mirror. Cardiff takes a deep breath to bolster her resolve, and with one foot placed on the other side of the mirror, she pulls again.
The sound of crackling glass erupts into shattering. Thousands of pieces of icy glass explode out of the mirror. Her eyes clench shut quickly, reflexively, to avoid getting glass particles lodged in her eyes. She turns her head downward to free her face of glass shards; she then shakes her head back and forth. Slowly, she opens her eyes to inspect the damage. Her finger is still swollen, but it no longer throbs intensely. Glass fragments slowly melt off of her fingertip and fall to the floor below.
Cardiff looks around the floor; the glass shrapnel has made its way from one end of the room to the other, a testament to the force of the explosion. A shiny metal object on the floor catches her attention; she bends down to retrieve the curious object from its resting place under the sink basin. Her left hand clenches a set of old-fashioned keys. The key-ring is familiar to her; she closes her fist around the small metal keys. Water still pours into the sink in front of her; she shifts her attention to the faucet. She tentatively reaches out again, this time to turn the rush of the water off.
Her hand grasps at the handles, frozen in place by some unknown force. The falling water ceases to collect in the basin, yet it doesn’t cease flowing from the faucet. Large droplets of water float out of the sink. Droplets form globs of clear fluid that float effortlessly around Cardiff. The water collides with her suit, her skin and the walls of the room, as if the room is in a completely weightless state. She continues to try and shut off the water in the sink, her hands holding fast to the faucet.
Her other hand rushes to brace her as her feet and toes lift off of the ground. Her stomach flutters inside under the weightless sensation. Her eyes rise to the mirror, where the glass had broken free from moments earlier. The glass is missing, as she had been expecting; what she had not anticipated seeing was the large space behind the glass. An entire room lies behind the confines of the mirror. The illusion confuses Cardiff, her face crinkles as she looks into the vast space behind the mirror.
Convinced that she is only seeing things, she reaches her hand, which had just been freed from the sink basin, out toward the space beyond. Her hand crosses the threshold, which would have marked the placement of the mirrored glass, and the feeling of gravity returns suddenly. Much to her chagrin, her sense of direction seems to indicate that the room has suddenly been turned on its side, and the mirror now lies below her. Her falling body is stopped, if only briefly, by her feet as they catch the sides of the mirror. Her toes spread out to grip the edges of the hole in the wall. As she is hanging upside down from her feet, Cardiff pulls herself up to grab at her foothold, only to see this foothold give way.
She finishes her short decent to the floor below, the air in her lungs is quickly pushed out as she strikes the floor. Her shocked body struggles to draw in a single breath. She clutches the keys again, tighter this time. The room that she now finds herself appears to be just like the dorm room that she was assigned to while she was aboard the defense station. Memory of floating hundreds of kilometers above the Earth now feels like a reality as she looks out her window. There appears to only be one item hanging on the wall, a medium-sized, antiquated monitor. After several moments, she is able to rise again to her feet. Her arm wraps around her bruised ribs as she stumbles over to the monitor.
Tears purge the dryness from her tired eyes, and they slowly rush down her cheeks as she reads what is displayed upon the monitor in front of her. The heading simply reads: “Final Transmission from Mars”.
With her burned finger, she reaches out to the screen in front of her. Through the intense pain felt in her finger, she can feel the smooth plastic surface of the monitor. It is warm, which is soothing because the air in the room is chilly. She reads on, this message has never been shown to her before, yet she feels as though she remembers it. Tears continue to swell from her focused eyes until she reaches the end, “To Jane, I’m sorry”.
She looks around her, trying to find an object that she could step on to get up to the portal that she had fallen through. A simple bed, one of many in a row, is selected. After some effort, the plain white sheets have been thrown to the side and the chrome metal frame is dragged over under the small rectangular hole in the ceiling.
Cardiff pauses for a minute, the Earth-like gravity aboard the space station is substantially more powerful than what she has become accustomed to on Mars. After her quick rest, she looks up at the hole in the ceiling, which has now disappeared altogether. “Fantastic.” A voice calls out to her from some unseen place.
Mendez: Captain, wake up! Hey, are you okay?
Cardiff closes her eyes and shakes her head. Upon opening her eyes, she realizes that she had never left the bunk in her room. Mendez stands in the doorway to her room. Cardiff reaches up to her cheeks, which are tearstained.
Cardiff: Yeah. I guess you could say that. I hate to dream. I never figure out that I am dreaming until I wake up. I wish there was a simple way I could know that I am asleep. That would save me a lot of grief, you know?
Mendez reaches to help Cardiff to her feet. As Mendez reaches around Cardiff’s arm, her hand presses against the ribs on Cardiff’s back.
Cardiff: Ow! That hurts.
Mendez: Oh, sorry. You must have bruised yourself when you tumbled down the beach?
Cardiff: No… I didn’t. I think I just barely bruised it.
Mendez: Sitting on your bunk?
Cardiff: Never mind, it isn’t important. I just realized something.
Mendez: Okay?
Cardiff: We have been deceived, there was a final transmission.
Mendez: No, there was no transmission. We already looked through the computer, didn’t we?
Cardiff: There must be another way to find it. The computer is withholding information from us.
Mendez: Okay, listen to yourself. Why would the computer be withholding information like that? It’s pertinent.
Cardiff: Because it has been directed to do so by our employer. That is why the computer has altered all of that stuff that we have seen, it is to keep us from messing around in those journal entries.
Mendez: That doesn’t make sense.
Cardiff: Think about it. The first expedition found out what was really going on here. The recommendation was sent to abort any further missions. The computer killed everyone up here to hide it. Everyt
hing is computer controlled. Even our pressure suits have an uplink, we aren’t safe anywhere.
Mendez: Okay, what can we do about it if you are right?
Cardiff: Don’t know yet, but I intend to get us all out of here. It’s going to take some time to devise a plan to safeguard ourselves from the all-knowing, all-seeing and all-powerful computer system.
Chapter 22
Year 15, Day 42
Footsteps in the hallway outside of the door awaken Doctor Long from his slumber. Long’s arms and legs dangle lifelessly off the edge of his bunk. Numb extremities make Long’s rising a difficult venture to undertake. Sunlight pouring in through the window illuminates his room; the light penetrates Long’s eyelids. This menacing light, in combination with the raucous in the hallway work to prevent any further rest. “Time to get up”, Long thinks aloud.
Cardiff stands on the other side of the locked door. Knuckles on hollow metal once again beckon him to rise up out of his bunk; the loud noise startles him, and his heart races at the sudden tumult. Cardiff calls out to him through the door. The tone of her voice is indicative of concern for him.
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