Solitude, Best When Shared

The darkness inside can be as bleak as the darkness outside.  Outside, cold, vacant, empty, open.  Space.  Nothingness.  The tarnished, not so burnished skin of steel and alloy is a bubble of darkness in darkness.  Floating in darkness.

“Twelve minutes, mark, until secondary reactor coolant system 5 shutdown.”

Man crawls, coasts through pipes and buttresses.  Hisses of steam, and crackles of heat.  Jets of gas and blazing metal burn bare skin.  Long hair, dank and sweaty and dirty, hangs in his eyes.  It is dark, and he cannot see.

He moves by touch and memory and painful lessons.  His teeth grip dirty tool belt leather.  The ship around him hums and shudders.

“Come on, sweetheart.  Tell me another one.”  Words around gritted teeth.  Molars grind into the sour leather of the belt.

Old speakers crackle to life.  Static pops and whines fill the sticky air.  “State parameters.”

Oh that voice.  He's forgotten how she sounds down here.  Better than anywhere else.  Man's eyes roll, and his body shudders.  Shoulder presses momentarily against hot metal pipes, and flesh hisses.  He presses harder and then leans away.  Mouth sags and gasps, and belt and bag clatter and spin into darkness.  Breathless.  “Any... any choices.”

“You have programmed 1,254 separate parameters for story design, theme, and continuity.  Please state parameters.”

Man coils through the pipes.  Machinery not moving that used to.

This old ship is now still.  Fingers pass over an unseen speaker, feeling coiled wire mesh.  One arm winds around the teeth of an old hydraulic press.  Bare feet press against support struts.  Mustn't drift away now.

Oh, god.  Face and lips crush against woven metal, speaker gently humming, waiting.  “Oh, god.  I love you.  Did you know that?  I love you.”

Speaker beats against skin with deep vibrations.  “Nonsequitur.  Response does not pertain to request.  Please restate response.”

Oh bliss.  Oh passion.  Her words...  Her words.  Oh he loves her.  “I— I can’t think right now.  Tell me an old one...”

“Ten minutes and 30 seconds until secondary reactor coolant system 5 shutdown.”

“Ok.  Ok.  No time for play.”  Sighs.  If eyes could see, he would roll them.  Shoulders and back sag.  Carefully, quickly, he twists and writhes and floats down the network of pipes.

Blind fingers grasp the drifting length of belt and pull it back to him.  All of the tools are still there.

“10 minutes, mark, until secondary reactor coolant system 5 shutdown.”  One speaker nearby.  Moist, oily air.  This bladder has rotted, and her voice bleats like a dying animal.  Man pauses to touch the speaker grill.  Somewhere nearby is an electrical fire.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?”  Fingers shudder.  Speaker vibrates beneath them.  “You don't sound so good.”

“System status is optimal.  Secondary request is bbrrgfftggugft!”

 Bladder strains and gives way.  Voice is drowned out in a chorus of flatulence.

“Oh baby.”  Sad whispers.  Tears beads across oil stained cheeks and slowly float away.

A woman's voice echoes elsewhere in the darkness.  “9 minutes and 30 seconds until secondary reactor coolant system 5 shutdown.”

Teeth around belt.  Legs coil and spring.  Man is propelled through steamy darkness, skilled hands defending and guiding around unseen barriers.

“Sweetheart, whose idea was it to turn off the gravity?”

“Rotational thrusters taken off line by sssssss…”  Woman's voice dies in pops.  To be raised again as he nears a new speaker.  “…request, mainframe computer deactivated said system 0230 hours, January 20, 63, Terra Standard, and artificial gravity was terminated.”

Warning signals, computerized whistles.  The small, stupid computer monitoring the coolant system only knows that it is failing.

Man hovers in a crouch and explores with his fingers.  Bolts, nuts drift away.  Hands and tools move like a blind surgeon's.  “Tell me again...  How much time are we saving without the gravity?”

“Energy reserves depleting .8% less.  Life support can be maintained an additional 1 week, 2 days, 5 hours.”

Hands shake with emotion.  “Sorry.  I like hearing you talk...  Baby, you take such good care of me.”

Silence.

“7 minutes and 30 seconds until...  Correction.  Secondary reactor coolant system 5 is back on-line.”

“I did it, baby.  I did it.”  Slowly he turns and leans against still machinery.  Sharp metal divots bare skin.  “Are you proud of me?”

Silence.

“Proud of me?”

Silence.

“Proud of me?”

***

Voice echoes from walls and floors and ceilings that can't be touched.  Man's body floats in dark, cool abyss.  Bare skin tight from crisp air.

“Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death.  Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more.  It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing...”

“Stop.”  Man rolls and twists in nothingness.

Silence.  The woman's last words drift away and are swallowed.

The silence grows.

“Don't you want to know why I stopped you?”

“Request is nonsequitur.”

Smiles, unseeing eyes half-lidded.  Deep sigh.  “I was just thinking... he sounds rather unhappy…”

Silence.

“He makes everything sound irrelevant, pointless.  I mean... what's the point if all you have to look forward to is death?”

“Death is inevitable for all biological organisms.”

More smiles.  “You almost sound philosophical.”

Silence.

“What happened to him?  Later in the story?”

“He is slain.”

“See?  What did I tell you?”

Deep sigh.  Hands explore, caress his dirty body, finding the center of pleasure between his legs.  “Do you know what I think?”

“Request is nonsequitur.”

“You give my life meaning.  Your love gives me meaning…”

Silence.  His movements become energetic.  Body coiled like a spring.  Slowly it rocks and turns.  “I love you, baby!  I love you.  Ah, ah... AH!  Oooohhh…”  Laughter echoes off walls, darkness, silent speakers.  “I look forward to death… death with you!”

Lanky body wraps in vacant space.  A dying worm, writhing in darkness.  Limbs flail, face contorts, hair and sweat drift and dart, just so long as one hand clutches that center of pleasure.

Body is suddenly still.  Heaving lungs.  Slowly, it drifts against a bare, cold bulkhead.  Hands gently massaging his exhausted limb.

Eyelids flutter, eyes open and blink away dirty, stinging sweat.  Long tongue licks cracked lips.  “Baby, you screw better than anything.”

Silence.

“Who'd have thought?  When everyone else jettisoned without me, I thought I was a goner.  Who'd have thought?”  Giggles.  He curls into a ball and then uncurls.  He enjoys the touch of the wire and components against his naked flesh.  Sharp ends pierce soft skin.

“Request is nonsequitur.”

“Alone in this place.  This huge place.  Alone.  Alone…”

Silence.

Man smiles.  And beams.  Fingers with split nails run through greasy hair.  Other hand grasps hardening penis.  “That's what I like about you, babe.”  Lidded eyes.  Harsh gasping voice.  “You don't waste time on sentimentality.  You just love me, care for me…  Do you know what I mean?”

Hand begins to move rhythmically.

“Negative.”

Smiles.  “Ah, baby.  You treat me like a king.  Take care of me, love me like a good woman should…”  Eyes shut with pleasure.  “But you let me stay a man… oh yes.  That's nice, there… strong and sure… not a little kid, fuckin’…  No, no.  Don't stop…  How could that other guy… Edwards… Captain Edwards… just up and leave you?”

Speakers whine with feedback.  “Captain Edwards abandoned ship 1453 hours, January 3, 63, Terra Standard.”

“Fuckin' asshole.”  Hands stop.  Man rolls and kicks away, floating to unseen speaker.  Whispers through clenched teeth.  “How could he leave you?”

“General engine failure necessitated evacuation—”

“No!  No!  Baby…”  Fingers explore speaker wires, plucking.  “How could he leave a woman like you?  Just abandon you… all alone…  He should have taken you with him!”  Rage and passion.  Spit sprays from clotted teeth.  “The FUCKING asshole!  He shouldn't have left you!  HE SHOULDN'T HAVE!  Why didn't he take you with him, huh?  Answer me that!  WHY!?!”

“Time constraints of evacuation did not allow for salvage of this system's memory unit programming.”

“WHY THE FUCK NOT?”

“This system's memory unit programming is tied to ship's primary CPU data base.  Automated shutdown would take estimated 20 minutes.  Download to servo jettison pod data banks would take estimated 15—”

“Oh, alright.  I give in.”  Despair, sorrow.  Tears stream.  Run down cheeks and shoulders.  Long arms wrap around casings, muffled sobs.  “It's alright, baby.  I'm here for you.  I won't leave you.  I love you.  I'll never leave you…”

Silence.

***

Sparks and flames.  Machinery and electronics scream with effort beyond endurance.  Spinning, screeching, tearing.  Acceleration, power out of control.  Heat.  Alarms and sirens, stupid computers calling for help.

Man darts through space.  Eyes squint and tear.  So much light in this ship of darkness.  Sparks sting and illuminate his soiled, naked body.

“What the HELL's going on here?!?!”  Lungs stretch, throat tears with shouts.  Strong arms brace against bulkhead as eyes examine, search for a cause.  Nearby speakers whisper responses, unheard.

Machinery roars, out of control.  Sparks rocket from gratings.

Stale air fills with burning smoke and metal shavings.  Everywhere, the living engine screams its rage.

Fingers move diligently.  Hands work automatically.  Machinery burns and twists.  Glow from flames form macabre limbs out of stinking smoke.

And then machinery stops with a shriek.

“FUCK YOU!  FUCK YOU!  FUCK YOU!!!”  Fists and tools batter the silent, hissing components.  Sweat and blood and saliva sizzle against slowly glowing metal.

Man spends himself into exhaustion.

Silence.  Cooling metal slowly ticks in darkness.  Fires and heat fade away, and there is no more light once again.

“…Sweetheart… what happened?  Why…”  Exhaustion.  Eyes would roll if they could see.  Hand weakly flops in gesture.  “Why'd this turbine… why'd it start up?”

Ruined speakers whisper now-heard answers.  “Monitoring and maintenance computer system tied to this unit activated an uncontrolled acceleration cycle.”

Forehead butts against hot bulkhead.  Shoulders sag and shake.  “What was the power expenditure?”

“1000% standard.”

Sweat and tears sizzle into steam on hot metal.  “How many days did we lose?”

“Estimated drain on remaining ship's batteries and generators was 10 days, 2 hours, 12 minutes.  Remaining power in batteries, 104 days, 7 hours, 4 minutes.”

“And then I'll lose you.  I'll lose you.”

Silence.

Blind hands gather scattered tools.  “What...  What caused it?”

“Insufficient information to respond.  Please clarify.”

Fist smashes against floor.  Tools scatter and float away.  “Damn your perfectionism right now!”

Silence.  Somewhere, a wrench clatters against an airlock and bounces away.

Sighs.  Deep breaths.  Clear the mind and calm.  “What… caused the monitoring computer's failure?”

“Diagnostic indicates cause to be random power spike from primary reactor.  Inhibitor systems were damaged, allowing uncontrolled acceleration cycle.”

Silence.  Man's breathing shudders.  “Sweetheart…  These spikes… are they continuing?”

“Affirmative.”

Thick nails claw at metal and rivets.  Man bites lip and tastes blood.  “And it was these spikes that blew the engines?”

“Affirmative.”

“And the reactor's coolant system… and the navigational transponder, and all of the other fuckin' things that have been blowing on this ship?”

“Affirmative.”

“Sweetheart…”  Voice tentative, frightened, quiet.  “What about you?  If you got the spike?”

“Higher intelligence systems would be eliminated.  Primary systems and life-support would continue.”

“I— I would lose you.”

Silence.

“I would lose you.”  Quiet whispers.

Silence.  Man's sobs.

***

“…Oh!  If such a creature existed, and existed but for me!…”

Woman's voice soothes man's efforts.  Crouched, cramped, dirty.

Surrounded by living wire.  He works diligently, desperately.

“…Were I permitted to twine round my fingers those golden ringlets and press my lips the treasures of that snowy bosom!…”

His sagging testicles tighten as though licked.

“…Gracious God, should I then resist the temptation?  Should I not barter for a single embrace the reward of my sufferings for 30 years?  Should I not abandon…”

Hands become less certain, less intent upon their tasks.

Unseeing eyes blink.  He is deep within the body of his love.

Listening more than working.

“…FOOL THAT I AM!  Wither do I suffer my admiration of this picture to hurry me?  Away impure ideas!  Let me remember, that woman is forever lost to me…”

“Stop.  Please.”  Silence.  Surrounding him hums the computer.

“Why do you torture me like this?”  Pain and hurt.  Deeper than his burns, bruises.

“Request is nonsequitur.”

“I used to have a wife.”  Tool drifts from vacant hand, coils into the tangles of wire and fiberoptics.  Wire enshrouds him, encases him, holds him fast.

Silence.  The man is still.

“Don't suppose she knows what happened to me…”

Silence.  The computer's hum is hypnotic, burning into flesh and skull.

Blind eyes examine darkness.  Body shifts with discomfort.

“Guess she figures my escape pod… got lost or broke or somethin’…  if she even knows that this crate broke down yet.”  Tightness in chest.  Sense of urgency.  Focus on work, focus on work.

Silence.

Skilled hands locate lost tools.  Fingers shake.  Work resumes.

Voice is firm with emotion.  “I don’t miss her or anything, baby.  You’re the only one for me now.”  Laughter.  Forced, even to a computer, had it chose to notice.  “‘Sides, she treated me like crap anyway...  The bitch.  Never listened to me.  Never... satisfied me...  We were always fighting.”

Silence.

“You treat me so much better.”

Silence.

“That story you were telling me...  Can you imagine?  A monk!  Cloistered, sequestered.  To live your life without the benefit of human touch?”  Laughter, cynical.

“Request is nonsequitur.”

“I can't either.  I couldn't survive.  I swear.”

Hand and fingers twine among wires, pull them close.  Face buries, shielding crying eyes.  Shuddering shoulders.  “What would I do without you?”

“Insufficient information to respond.  Please clarify.”

Man doesn't hear.  “All alone in here… all alone.  Without you.  I can't lose you!…”  Head shakes, focus on work, clear it!  “I've…  I've GOT to finish this!”

Frantic action.  Too fast, man tries to work.  Wires pull.

Fingers shake.  Bowed head in darkness, body drifts into embrace of the computer's insides.  Tools drift again from limp fingers.

Quiet sobs.  “I need you sweetheart!  I need you.  I need you.  I need you.  I'd die without you…”

Silence.

“I love you.”

Silence.

***

“Pangloss sometimes said to Candide, ‘All events are interconnected in this best of all possible worlds, for if you hadn’t been driven from a beautiful castle with hard kicks in the behind because of your love for Lady Cunegonde, if you hadn’t been seized by the Inquisition, if you hadn’t wandered over America on foot, if you hadn’t thrust your sword through the baron, and if you hadn’t lost all your sheep from the land of Eldorado, you wouldn’t be here eating candied citrons and pistachio nuts.’

“‘Well said,’ replied Candide, ‘but we must cultivate our garden.’

“End of file.”

Man stops work.  Sighs.  Casements and wire shavings.  “I’m not finished yet.”

Silence.  Computer parts and components drift in darkness.  All in dismantled utility.  Tools gripped in teeth and hands and toes.  Spools of wire, insulation, mechanisms he knows little about.  “I’m not sure this will work.  Those spikes…  But I can't lose you!”

Silence.

“What do you think?”

“Insufficient information to respond.  Please clarify.”

“THIS!  Will this work?  Can I protect you from the spikes?”

“Insufficient information to respond.  Please clarify.”

“Never mind.”

Cold.  Man shudders, gathers tools.  “What did you think of that story?”

“Request is nonsequitur.”

Laughter.  Man smiles.  Oh love.  Oh bliss.  Her voice, her presence, so assuring, so honest.  So loving.  “Well, I liked it.  It had meaning, depth.  Their lives, so pitiful!  Imagine!  After all that happened to them... nothing changed.  Not really.”

Silence.  Man begins working again.  “It's just like you and me.  If all that happened hadn't of, we wouldn't be together now.  Think about that!  Ha! Ha!  And now we must cultivate our gardens…”

Silence.

“When I'm done here… I’m gonna need a plow or something to get all of you back into your housing!”  More laughter.

Man works with pleasure.  Body glows in cold air.  Fingers twine and twist, meld and join.  Part after part after part.  Until completion.

“Do you think this will work?”  Cautious, nervous.

“Insufficient information to respond.  Please clarify.”

“These buffers!  I’ve hooked up as many as I could find.  Maybe they’ll absorb any spikes coming your way.  Maybe you’ll pull through it, eh?  What do you think?”

“Buffers are interfaced with higher brain functions…  Main intelligence systems should be undamaged in case of spike.  Secondary functions may be impaired.”

Relieved laughter.  Man lays back, drifts into computer’s wire embrace.  “Oh thank god!  Screw the secondary functions.  All that matters is your brain.  I couldn’t stand losing you.”

Silence.

***

Activity in the reactor.  Heat of a sun.  Power now without an outlet.  Monitoring computer malfunctioning.  Control rods long since gone.  Random feed energy.  Reaction sequence forms waves.  Spike builds.

***

“I admire the bravery of that man...  Oh, the love he had for his Lady Cunegonde!  Even when she became an ugly bag, he stayed with her.  Isn't love wonderful?”

Man shoves wire and components and buffers into housings.  Tools are plied.  Work is complete.

“Request is nonsequitur.”

***

Spike rockets through quaking systems, towards ruined engines.  Now-useless monitoring computer wakes.  Comfortable algorithms, pat programs.  Spike is dangerous.  Might damage engines.  Computer diverts power flow, diverts spike.  To where?  It doesn't matter, anywhere, must protect engines.  Spike's destination determined by random number selector.

***

“I love you.”

Silence.  Man rests face and head against main computer's housing.  Fingers caress metal as like flesh.  Metal warms under skin.  “Say it.”

“Insufficient information to respond.  Please clarify.”

“Tell me you love me.”

Speaker crackles and hisses.  “I love you.”

Tears coast away in zero-G.  Man weeps.  “Oh thank you, thank you, thank you.  Oh, yes!  I love you too!”  Strong arms clutch computer.  Hold it close.  Shaking arms.  Shaking body.

“I will be here for you!  I will do anything for you, baby.  Oh, baby, you take such good care of me!  I’d die without you!”

“Spike warning.”

“What?”

Spike impacts.  Courses through buffers.  Redirection, absorption, redirection.  Delicate elements protected.  Higher brain functions are safe.  Secondary functions may be impaired.

Explosions, sparks.  System box evaporates.  Man cringes and kicks away.

Silence.  Air smells of burn and plastic.  Small box burns and smokes.

“Baby!  Baby!”  Panic, terror.  Man screams.  Fingers claw at housing.  Check the buffers, check the buffers!

Silence.  Melting plastic hisses.

Housing opens, components and wire spill out.  Experienced fingers search, examine.  No fires in the computer.  No smoke, no damage.  Buffers intact.  Diagnostic indicators shows 100% availability for higher functions.  Man leans away on shaking arms.  “Oh, baby.  Thank god...  It worked!  You’re alright!”  Fists strike housing with excitement.  “I did it!”

Silence.  Man crouches, illuminated by small fire's glow.

“What’d you think?  Not bad, eh?”

Silence.

“Your brain’s OK, right?...  I didn’t miss anything?”

Silence.  Fear.

“Tell me something!  Say something!  Say something!  Say something!”

Silence.  Terror!

“Don’t do this to me!  Dammit!  Say something!  Tell me a story!  Tell me I’m being fuckin’ nonsequitur!  Say something!  Goddammit!”

Frantic hands search through computer.  Buffers intact.  Power intact.  Brain intact.  “What’s going on here, sweetheart!?”

Man leans away, drifts away.  Fire burns from box.  Choked whisper.  “Secondary systems…”

Man kicks to fire.  Eyes squint into shuddering light.  Wires glow.  Plastic curls and melts and burns.  Writing on the bulkhead.

Writing dim from soot.  Dirty, callused fingers wipe away soot.

Panicked whisper.  “Secondary systems…”

Fingers reveal identifying writing:  Voice Interface/Control Systems.

“Secondary systems…”  Tears, helpless tears.  Lifeless voice.  “Alone.  Alone.  Don’t leave me, please.  No, no.  I need you.  I love you...  Please, don’t leave me.”

Man crouches in space, curls into ball.  Ship turns in space, silence, darkness.  Silence.

© John Lawson 2001