The day had come.
It shouldn't have felt so unexpected. We should have been more prepared. Still, can anyone really pinpoint the exact moment warning klaxons are going to start going off and the Space Station you built was finally breaching? Yeah, you repaired the fissures. You kept everything going, leaving the residences under your care completely oblivious, yet prepared. But you knew this day would come.
It's just that the timing sucks.
The party atmosphere suddenly dies down and soon everyone is looking around. Then their eyes settle on the screens surrounding them and the clipped automated female voice encouraging everyone to climb into the nearest space suit and launch their escape pods. It takes mere seconds and then they are moving, dropping everything as they sprint to the nearest panel where the suits and pods are hidden within the frame work of the station. Dresses, tuxedos, uniforms and ball gowns are ditched as they climb into their suits of varying stages. You were unable to upgrade them all. You ran out of time. And you know, there is a possibility the older ones may very well not make it. But it's better than being on a Disintegrating station.
You send the last of your crew on, screaming at them to reach their units as you activate the final command sequences that will guarantee the world you had built will fall apart away from the escaping civilians. With the last codes sent, you race past people still rushing around, trying to get into their suits and finally push up the wall concealing yours. But the station tilts. There is a blinding flash....and you realize you are too late. You're not going to escape.
And then there is a second of darkness.
Before you are suddenly righting yourself and you're back where you were just after the klaxons had gone off. What the hell? Did any of the last fifteen minutes happen? Or did you imagine it? It doesn't matter. You still have to move quickly and get those command codes in. Just like before. So you do. And you find yourself yet again yelling at others as you race to your own suit. This time you reach it, but just as you are trying to pull it on, that blinding light washes over you again, followed by that same darkness and for a second time, you're back at that damn computer station with people racing around you to get free.
Then you realize it.
The Rift the station has been caught up in for as long as you can remember is keeping you from leaving because you are taking too long. Fuck the command codes to break the station apart with minimal risks! You can't save them all if you are caught in a continuous loop! So you send everyone off instantly, telling them if they don't launch out, at least make it to a suit. That's better than nothing. You know you won't reach your suit in time so you don't even bother. You open an elevator shaft and start dropping and climbing down as quickly as is possible until you reach one of the lowest levels which is likely to break away first and launch you into space with minimal damage.
The addicts and crumbs of your station are down here. They're either too wasted, high, or just uncaring of what's occurring around them. Except one guy. He's huddled in a container with casings of oxygen masks. So you don't even think. You push him back, grab a mask, and slam it over your face, pulling the container shut and latching it.
Seconds later that light returns.
Your breathing is shallow, the container is hot, the junkie curled up beside you is hyperventilating and you suddenly feel yourself pinned with intense force. You're Falling. Which means you've broken the atmosphere of something. The rift? A planet? An unexpectedly well timed passing comet? Who the fuck cares. You're holding onto the latch of the container with fingers in such a death grip you're sure a few tendons have popped from the stress and bones are fracturing. It'll be a miracle if either of you survive the fall.
And yet you do.
Because the next thing you remember is staggering into an Earth station where people are either dining or being registered. Which doesn't make sense to you. A few faces look your way, two in particular, one you have loved secretly and the other you have secretly desired. They look at you with faint recognition and you have the distinct thought that they shouldn't though. But why not? Didn't you just see them? Why shouldn't they remember you? But then someone is pushing you towards one of the registration lines and when you reach the booth and the woman pulls your wrists towards her and finds no barcode, you realize you are the only one who doesn't have one.
You were not suppose to remember. It had been part of the upgrading of the suits. Once someone was in them properly, they would receive a small injection in their right wrist that would release a chemical into their body to basically wipe their memories. Then a barcode would be branded on them so once they returned to Earth, they could receives new lives. New Identities.
All because of that rift.
That tear in Time the station had been caught up in shortly after it had been launched. The station you had created. The structure that had kept you and everyone else in it from aging. And you had known at some point it would reach the other side of the tear. That time would start again for all of you. But how much would have changed since then? You couldn't risk coming back looking exactly the same as you had left, even if the generations that had been living while you were gone had come and gone as well. And yet you did. You returned with your memories intact after almost a hundred years, and everyone knew who you were.
Chaos erupts around you, things seem to swirl, echoing in and out of your field of vision and suddenly you find yourself standing in front of a large home with the woman you had loved and wanted for so long, coming across the lawn towards you calling you wife. She seems hesitant. Unsure herself why she is there. But she smiles at you encouragingly and takes your hand. She does remember you, which means her suit was too old for the upgrade. But she survived and for that you are grateful. The home is odd to you both. There are two sets of everything. Two kitchens, side by side, two sets of stairs, living rooms, bedrooms and you wonder if you share the home with another family. And then you hear laughter, and you both climb the stairs to suddenly be greeted by two children who are yours that you have adopted.
Oh God. Two of everything. Duplication. The knowledge and confusion at the knowledge you have of your surroundings. The rift in time and you. It's you! It has all been you! Is any of this real? Are you truly part of the fallen? Or did you end up with the others, flying free of the station and living in a drug induced fantasy world until they awaken somewhere else, if at all?
Dear God, It's always been you!
*This short sci-fi story was a dream I had this morning that I had to share.
It shouldn't have felt so unexpected. We should have been more prepared. Still, can anyone really pinpoint the exact moment warning klaxons are going to start going off and the Space Station you built was finally breaching? Yeah, you repaired the fissures. You kept everything going, leaving the residences under your care completely oblivious, yet prepared. But you knew this day would come.
It's just that the timing sucks.
The party atmosphere suddenly dies down and soon everyone is looking around. Then their eyes settle on the screens surrounding them and the clipped automated female voice encouraging everyone to climb into the nearest space suit and launch their escape pods. It takes mere seconds and then they are moving, dropping everything as they sprint to the nearest panel where the suits and pods are hidden within the frame work of the station. Dresses, tuxedos, uniforms and ball gowns are ditched as they climb into their suits of varying stages. You were unable to upgrade them all. You ran out of time. And you know, there is a possibility the older ones may very well not make it. But it's better than being on a Disintegrating station.
You send the last of your crew on, screaming at them to reach their units as you activate the final command sequences that will guarantee the world you had built will fall apart away from the escaping civilians. With the last codes sent, you race past people still rushing around, trying to get into their suits and finally push up the wall concealing yours. But the station tilts. There is a blinding flash....and you realize you are too late. You're not going to escape.
And then there is a second of darkness.
Before you are suddenly righting yourself and you're back where you were just after the klaxons had gone off. What the hell? Did any of the last fifteen minutes happen? Or did you imagine it? It doesn't matter. You still have to move quickly and get those command codes in. Just like before. So you do. And you find yourself yet again yelling at others as you race to your own suit. This time you reach it, but just as you are trying to pull it on, that blinding light washes over you again, followed by that same darkness and for a second time, you're back at that damn computer station with people racing around you to get free.
Then you realize it.
The Rift the station has been caught up in for as long as you can remember is keeping you from leaving because you are taking too long. Fuck the command codes to break the station apart with minimal risks! You can't save them all if you are caught in a continuous loop! So you send everyone off instantly, telling them if they don't launch out, at least make it to a suit. That's better than nothing. You know you won't reach your suit in time so you don't even bother. You open an elevator shaft and start dropping and climbing down as quickly as is possible until you reach one of the lowest levels which is likely to break away first and launch you into space with minimal damage.
The addicts and crumbs of your station are down here. They're either too wasted, high, or just uncaring of what's occurring around them. Except one guy. He's huddled in a container with casings of oxygen masks. So you don't even think. You push him back, grab a mask, and slam it over your face, pulling the container shut and latching it.
Seconds later that light returns.
Your breathing is shallow, the container is hot, the junkie curled up beside you is hyperventilating and you suddenly feel yourself pinned with intense force. You're Falling. Which means you've broken the atmosphere of something. The rift? A planet? An unexpectedly well timed passing comet? Who the fuck cares. You're holding onto the latch of the container with fingers in such a death grip you're sure a few tendons have popped from the stress and bones are fracturing. It'll be a miracle if either of you survive the fall.
And yet you do.
Because the next thing you remember is staggering into an Earth station where people are either dining or being registered. Which doesn't make sense to you. A few faces look your way, two in particular, one you have loved secretly and the other you have secretly desired. They look at you with faint recognition and you have the distinct thought that they shouldn't though. But why not? Didn't you just see them? Why shouldn't they remember you? But then someone is pushing you towards one of the registration lines and when you reach the booth and the woman pulls your wrists towards her and finds no barcode, you realize you are the only one who doesn't have one.
You were not suppose to remember. It had been part of the upgrading of the suits. Once someone was in them properly, they would receive a small injection in their right wrist that would release a chemical into their body to basically wipe their memories. Then a barcode would be branded on them so once they returned to Earth, they could receives new lives. New Identities.
All because of that rift.
That tear in Time the station had been caught up in shortly after it had been launched. The station you had created. The structure that had kept you and everyone else in it from aging. And you had known at some point it would reach the other side of the tear. That time would start again for all of you. But how much would have changed since then? You couldn't risk coming back looking exactly the same as you had left, even if the generations that had been living while you were gone had come and gone as well. And yet you did. You returned with your memories intact after almost a hundred years, and everyone knew who you were.
Chaos erupts around you, things seem to swirl, echoing in and out of your field of vision and suddenly you find yourself standing in front of a large home with the woman you had loved and wanted for so long, coming across the lawn towards you calling you wife. She seems hesitant. Unsure herself why she is there. But she smiles at you encouragingly and takes your hand. She does remember you, which means her suit was too old for the upgrade. But she survived and for that you are grateful. The home is odd to you both. There are two sets of everything. Two kitchens, side by side, two sets of stairs, living rooms, bedrooms and you wonder if you share the home with another family. And then you hear laughter, and you both climb the stairs to suddenly be greeted by two children who are yours that you have adopted.
Oh God. Two of everything. Duplication. The knowledge and confusion at the knowledge you have of your surroundings. The rift in time and you. It's you! It has all been you! Is any of this real? Are you truly part of the fallen? Or did you end up with the others, flying free of the station and living in a drug induced fantasy world until they awaken somewhere else, if at all?
Dear God, It's always been you!
*This short sci-fi story was a dream I had this morning that I had to share.
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