Short Story #2

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"We interrupt this program..."

...to bring you the second installment of the Short Story Break.


Like I'd mentioned before, from time to time I will take a break from The Station and present to you, dear Reader, a short story of my own composition. So up next is my latest contribution, a tale of desolation, deceit, and a fragile society desperately trying to survive. A story that shows us, that even in the most hopeless of times, humanity has the capacity to make things even worse. And now...Black Planet...

The Station, Part 47

These new eyes both intrigue and disturb me. I am seeing things that perhaps no human eye should perceive, which further lends to my belief that which each passing moment, I am a little less human. So when did the changes to my vision begin? Days ago? Or when I first entered the cave. Probably the latter, as I noticed nothing unusual until after the crystal had broken. The changes to my eyes are useful, a seemingly purposeful alteration. Like my longer legs, leaner build. I’m now a prime example of a great design for long distance travel. Millions of years of evolution probably could do no better. But what of my others alterations? The loss of my fifth toes for examples? Why that particular change? Was it because it was simply not needed for my newly sculpted feet? They certainly are far superior version to the ones with which I was born. And most fascinating of to me—my extraordinary sixth fingers, so different and alien. An addition that proved useful when climbing a tree. But I strongly suspect that is not its true purpose. It is more like a modification for a very specific function, not a general one. For all other circumstances, it is rather extraneous, but not a burden. In fact, my grip strength is marginally better, a slight difference when I had a mere five digits. I did after all, drop the crystal. A move that saved my life, yes, but also proves that these hands aren’t improvement in that area. It’s more a matter of delicate control perhaps. So then, what is this mysterious purpose they serve? I obviously haven’t had the need yet, but they have been helping me in food gathering. Perhaps with my new hands, am I meant to climb trees. No, that’s not it. But they’ve proven their worth in that area.

It’s still good to be speaking to you after all this time and the changes I have experienced. Even though you’ve never responded I haven’t lost hope that you’re still out there, trying to get in. I thought of Frontier and her exposure to the outside. That seems like the perfect scenario for my freedom. An opportunity that apparently was never taken. Which meant there was a chance that you are not there at all. But I dismiss that notion. An object of this size does not go unnoticed by the vast network of sensors buoys, satellites and starships that crisscross space. There is someone monitoring this, watching, waiting…and listening. Listening to all the sounds of life that should seem impossible, but is. And somewhere there’s a receiver, probably many transceivers, hundreds of them in fact, that are translating my data into text that is scrolling across screens, holding my audience in rapt attention, waiting for the next installment like rabid fan base. That’s what I hope. I don’t want my words to merely disappear into the ether. I wish I could know that all this effort was for something. That what I report will not be dismissed as some delusional ramblings by an insane naval officer. Navy? Am I in a navy? Yes, goddamn it! I’m Lieutenant Bradley of the station Frontier! I’m Bradley! Bradley! Bradley! Bradley! You hear me! Whoever the fuck you are! Whatever is changing me! I am a fucking human being! No matter what you do to me, I’m still a fucking human being! Don’t forget you it! Or you’ll be sorry! You take away my humanity and I’ll make hell! I promise you!

The Station, Part 46

My own clumsiness may have just saved my life. It’s my own stubbornness and inability to see the obvious that only prolonged my suffering. As I stumbled along, I managed to trip. I’m sure you’re not surprised at that. But in attempting to regain my balance, I instinctively threw out my arms, and in doing so, accidentally threw the crystal. It hit the wall and then the ground, breaking it in two. At first, I could have cried. I’m so tired. And now in the darkness. Or so I thought. Even as the last bit of light faded from the shattered torch, I discovered something new about myself—the ability to see in the dark. Apparently, I never really needed the crystal, but it certainly needed me. I took it out of its native environment. Or rather, I took them. Whatever lived inside it. The microscopic colony of life that died as soon as its home was destroyed. I can only surmise that once I removed its base from the rest of the colony, it no longer had an energy source from which to feed. In desperation, and a sheer need to survive, it found the next best thing—me. My life energy. After all, I am a biomechanical machine am I not? I have a store of energy that would suffice, even if not ideal for a colony of oh so tiny lives. My fault. I never saw it. But without their draining influence, already I can feel my strength returning. But in my redoubling my efforts I did really push myself too hard. Just to stay moving you see. Now I am merely tired and need a decent rest. I don’t fear stopping now.

I’m really fascinated by my new ability. I took stock of myself for the first time in while and discovered new things. I see my hands have gone through yet another alteration. They’ve become rather hirsute of late. When did that happen? What must I look like sans the undersuit? My eyes can also see that there is some kind of light, ever so faint, resonating from the cave interior. The walls themselves it seems. A mineral perhaps. Has to be. If there were a total absence of light, even the most acutely sensitive eyes would be useless. That is why the troglodytes are blind and pale. Perhaps that and the presence of the crystalline dwelling life forms are the reason for the absence of other life. Tiny lives would most assuredly avoid their life draining quality. I’m alive because of a stupid mistake.

But Poor Fred. He never learned the secret. He must have been like me, struggling to find his way through, straining not to succumb to his torch, never knowing that the very thing that he thought would help save his life was the very thing that would eventually extinguish it. I was no smarter than he, just luckier. Thinking of his bones lying back there, and the clear, yet unbroken crystal at his side, I wonder of after its food source had died, did the living things inside their protective mineral world know of their own fate? It seems like a tragedy for all parties. I hope that the ones that I ripped from their home didn’t suffer for very long. And to top off all today’s revelation, I can see in the dark

The Station, Part 45

I have made one discovery thanks to Fred however. These crystals glow isn’t infinite. His though colorless now, is obviously of the same variety as mine. So perhaps whatever causes the luminescence, it’s dependent on something to perpetuate it. Far back and above, in the chamber where I discovered them, there were absolutely no faded crystals. I remember that clearly. Fred’s is the first one that I’ve seen that has lost its glow. So what else is different? Why am I so curious about this? Because both Fred and his crystal were once both alive. Both now lie dead. I don’t want to join them. And in the back of my mind, I have this feeling that I’m going that way. I’m missing something vital. Some little bit of information that would make all the difference. It’s far too late for me to go back and examine the crystal colony further. So, I have to rely on my memory. A memory which has been failing more and more of late. Except when it comes to my experiences in this place. All that came before; that is where I find it increasingly difficult to conjure memories. All this pondering is taking more effort than it should. If I didn’t know any different, I’d say I was drugged. But that can’t be, can it? I haven’t eaten all day, and only drank water from the stream. Is it something about the air? Yes, it could very well be a lack of oxygen that is taxing me. Yes, that must be it. I’m slowly suffocating. Fred needed more O2 than me. Bigger lungs. More effort to breathe. He’s an alien. He just couldn’t last.

That’s what I’d like to think. But I know I’m wrong. But I won’t have to worry about one thing—light. My crystal is showing no signs of fading out. Quite the opposite. I think as I examined my newfound dead friend, it grew a bit brighter once again.

This weariness is unrelenting. No matter what I do—increase my pace, even run for a bit, it never leaves me. It’s more than just exhaustion. It’s not a lack of breathable air. This is a hollowness that I have never felt. I am having serious doubts about my chances now. I’m only a mere fraction of the way I need to go, and yet I feel as if I’ve traveled already traveled the entire way. No, more than that. This is the very life, my essence if you will, being drained away. My only comfort is my strange blue light. So bright now. I can barely look directly at it anymore. How is it that I wither while it grows brighter? It may even be my imagination, but the crystal seems to have grown larger. That cannot be. My arms tells me it is heavier, but I’m so tired. The walking itself is so taxing now. But I can’t, won’t stop. Stopping means death. Fred found this out. And he had a crystal just like me. Just like me…going to stop talking and conserve strength. Sorry, just can’t spare the energy right now. I’m sure you understand.

The Station, Part 44

I have a new friend. I’ve named him Fred. He’s maybe about three meters tall, with a heavy build, and like me, he’s got six fingers on each hand and four toes per his two feet. But that’s where the similarity ends. He’s but a skull only and hideous mother could love. It’s a huge skull that that, but its proportional to the rest of the skeleton. The eye sockets are huge. The nose cavity, immense as well, sits right above a set of jaws that would give a shark pause. Whatever Fred was in life, he was one formidable-looking motherfucker. But as the evidence shows, even the meanest motherfuckers aren’t invincible.

I’ve also noticed that Fred and I share other similarities. He apparently didn’t wear a stitch of clothing in life, as there’s no trace of even a thread of fabric. It’s possible that it decayed over time, but I find that highly unlikely. In the time needed fro that to happen, the bones would have probably fossilized. Fred also had one thing that makes me believe that giant skull once housed a decent brain. Beside him where he sits along the cave wall I found a crystal not unlike my own. It’s larger than mine; I would have trouble carrying it. But by the looks of Fred, he would have had no trouble handling it.

He must have been about seven feet tall and well built, as his bones are at least twice the thickness of my own. What an imposing figure he must have made in life. But then again, for all I know he was the runt of the litter. But it’s the digits on his hands and feet that intrigue me the most. Six and four, like mine. Was it just natural for him to have them? Or was he, like me stranded here and then altered? Perhaps I’ll never know the answer to that question, but at least I have solved the mystery of the strange symbols along the cave walls. The end of the crystal by his side shows some damage to its shaper side. The end has been worn downed. Used as a writing utensil no doubt. So he was no mere brute. Just another lost soul trying to find his way out. And his way home. I can empathize with his situation. What were his last days like? And why did die? In here. I think I owe Fred an apology. I called him a motherfucker earlier. No, he doesn’t deserve that. Not even the “mean” part. He was lost, alone and died that way. That is no way anyone should have to spend their remaining days. That won’t be me.

But finding Fred does bring up another question. That’s all I seem to have lately. Questions. No answers. Lots of assumptions. Today it is just more tiring to even make the assumptions. I shouldn’t be this worn out though. I’ve been traveling downward, which is easy. It’s cool. But I’m rapidly getting bone tired. Maybe I need food. But I haven’t been thirsty, which is somewhat intriguing. But not that much. Its just sleep I need perhaps. But as interesting as Fred is, I don’t want to take a nap in the same place as he; that’s just plain unnerving. You should see his teeth.

The Station, Part 43

Perhaps the best advantage of all has the energy I must be saving. Calories will b ea rare commodity for the moment. That may be a real concern later. As efficient as my modified body may be, it still needs food. Maybe I should have eaten more figs back there, but that’s neither here nor there. One thing’s for sure. The slope now is so that I would have to practically be a mountain climber to get back up. So even if I wanted to, there’s no turning back. A dead end is death. That’s a horrible thought. I’m going to forget I ever thought it. I saw the hologram. I know this is the right way. I must be fucking insane.

I’ve been seeing signs that there is life down here, aside from the suspected life that I carry in my hand. This life just may be intelligent. How do I know this? Along the walls there have been signs that some attempts at abstraction have been made. Not quite art, more like symbols. Wavy lines done in an ochre or similar substance. Simple etchings that could be deep in meaning, or not. Just a simple sign that says, “This way up” or something like that. They’re spaced at regular intervals, every couple of kilometers or so. What I don’t think is that, if they are indeed road signs of sorts, which it wouldn’t be done by something indigenous. Other than these symbols I’ve seen no other signs of life. I think that once I left the cave, I left the facsimile Earth environment and entered into yet another alien place. Except this one has made the least sense. This elaborate cave seems to be home to nothing more than a colony of crystals, and I’m not entirely convinced that whatever is housed inside the lattice is indeed alive. What then, is the need for a tunnel of this nature?

Since this place is no copy of Earth, then I can’t expect those typical cave dwellers, the bats and others. The pale, blind counterparts to those of the sunlight world are curiously absent as well. It’s so deathly quiet in here. It’s much more noticeable when you stop to take a breather. There’s only the sound of my breathing. No distant hints of dripping water, nor squeak or scratch of an unseen creature. It is an utterly dead place. I suddenly, desperately, want to get the hell out of this place. Not because I fear being lost or encountering this cavern’s version of an angry cave bear—it’s because I’ve ever so slowly felt less and less motivated, dragged down by the absolute silence and absence of life. This place, I think, does indeed in its own way, draw the life from me. I should get moving again. I so want to get out of here, but it’s pulling at me, draining me of energy. But on the positive, my makeshift torch is glowing somewhat brighter. I guess the little critters inside are working a little harder lately. I hope they don’t work too hard. Don’t want them to burn out to soon. That is, if they can burn themselves out.