The Station, Part 73

At my touch, she turns and covers my hand with her healthy one. It’s so like mine except for it immense size as compared to my own, which disappears under it. As for a time, we share a bond of kinship. We are two friends, both feeling unworthy of our place here. In my mind I feel the old one asking for forgiveness at her intrusion, but she had to make her delivery. I impress upon her that there is nothing to forgive. But who am I to determine that? But then I realize it is indeed me that she asks forgiveness. And yet once again, I feel unworthy.

Our unspoken conversation is at an end. The opening above has already begun to close. She or one of her kind could reopen it but she feels that any more such intrusions are improper and border on the unforgivable. I do not argue. And then she impresses upon me that this is not goodbye. I do not have the heart to tell her that it most likely is. Our hands part and she takes to the air. I follow her path up, up until she passes through the gap far above. And then she is gone. I stand here for a time, watching as the Junction heals itself, waiting as the hole reshapes and shrinks, until it finally closes. Now I am truly alone once again. I know why I want to be here, but I have absolutely no idea why I have been brought precisely to my desired destination Was it because in my mind I wish it and the old one simply fulfilled the request? And why did it not occur to me to ask this altogether important question? In any case, I should have thanked her.

Because I wanted to find out for myself. All this time, I’ve been held by the hand in both figuratively and literally. It is past time to take matters into my own hands and fulfill the task I set out to do. I had assumed it would be a simple matter of finding that last passage to freedom, but I see now that it will not be that simple. Yes, it is a matter of locating that place, that one place that I used to call a home. But all I can remember is the cold walls and impersonal colored lights and the speckled blackness that surrounded it. I was a pale, helpless thing, dependent upon artificial things to keep me alive. I remember seeing the crowds of similar beings that packed every corner of vast cities, so close together, yet so unaware and unconcerned for one another. Everyone a stranger. And each one as ultimately helpless and alone the sole occupant of a sterile shell in the blackness of space, ironically searching for new companions among the stars, because he couldn’t find the sense of unity and from where originated. But here, in the Leviathan, I have seen and felt more sense of home than anywhere. The entire reason I was out among the stars in the first place. I remember that now, I remember that most of all because it is the important thing. Not the names and events that I have now forgotten, or the meaning of the machines I must have took much effort in learning. All of that is gone now. I have already been set free.

You may have deduced what is to come next, but if you have not, that is fine. I feel I owe you an explanation for what I am about to do. I made my way to the central hologram, the three dimensional map that shows all paths. I reach inside and touch the place that holds my former home. It is as it was at the very end of my Sleep Lesson. And now that lesson is completed. I see the specific route I must take to reach my former home. As I do so, the hologram shifts and reforms into a shape of sharp angles and spokes of instrumentation, held in place by an intricate mesh of strands to prevent it from falling into space. It is an ugly thing, yet still holds some value for me, that small confining thing. I now know how I am to get there, but that has been rendered unimportant. I have been given a pair of choices: to stay or to go. After all, this all about freedom, is it not? I am making that choice now. I place my hand into the hologram of metal and push. The image shifts. The stands that hold the thing in place begin to fall away, one by one. The last stand that lets go is the very tunnel I would have used to regain entry into that place. I feel a twinge of regret. There is very small part of me that grieves. But it is a very small part. I think I will hold onto that piece of myself for as long as I am able. We need to remember the sacrifice.