Space really was bent. David could see that now. He had never thought he would actually see it, but there it was. Right in front of him. Splayed out, curving away down the gravity well, turning the corner to bend in on itself with a force so strong that nothing could escape. An enormous black pit centred around a super dense star billions of times more massive than the Earth’s. So black and so small that not even light could escape. It sucked and cleaned its way through space like a giant vacuum cleaner working through the vacuum making sure it was spotless. Cleaning away an orange-red gas cloud. Making sure that it couldn’t stain the vacuum. The Cleaner had been tidying up this cloud for a million years and would probably take another million to finish it off.
All in silence.
Perfect silence.
The only hum was that of air particles hitting his ear drums, but he had brought those particles with him. They were in his suit. His suit hummed. Outside, there was nothing.
Nothing…except orange swirls of gas straightening into red streaks as they headed down the long, slow curve to oblivion, below his feet, about ten light minutes away. It only took light ten minutes to travel from him to the core of the Cleaner. Once it took him ten minutes to walk from his front door to the corner store. The distinction blurred. Distance became time. Ten minutes from him to the core and so ten minutes to the abyss.
David’s eyes widened. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
The dimensions were so vast that his mind couldn’t comprehend them. Ten light minutes was so far away, further than the Earth was from its aging Sun. Still it swamped him completely. Yet this place was so small that it had taken twenty years to get an observation station here. It had just not been worth it. It wasn’t big enough!
Ten minutes.
The first cloud of condensation fogged the inside of his faceplate. It cleared and returned on the next breath.
David’s mind was silent, retreating, reeling back from the sight in front of him. The abyss of the Cleaner grew. Its central black dot came up the well, expanding at an ever increasing rate, searching for its prey, but not changing size. It grew and grew without growing. The sides of the well shrank and changed from rusty orange to an incredible burnt-red colour which fluoresced against the perfect blackness of space. But they didn’t change colour. The straight lines of the dust clouds being sucked into the Cleaner started to twirl and never quite made it so they never changed from being straight lines. But they weren’t straight. They were curved.
David’s eyes were wide, straining and staring. Somewhere, his brain registered that they hurt, hurt like hell. He needed to close them to stop the pain. The signal was ignored.
His breathing became heavy, the fog was almost permanent now, he could feel the pressure of the Cleaner coming up out of the pit. An alarm in his suit sounded as his pulse exceeded a magic number set by some medical expert who had never actually been in a space suit. The gas twirled below him, straightening on its forced journey. His stomach reached up, knotting and twisting on its ascent. His throat shrank. The Cleaner remained unchanged, unblinking as it stared at him. David was spinning now, feeling the whole universe turning while he remained perfectly still. The taste of acidic bile filled his mouth.
Silence.
Twang.
The centre of David’s back stopped dead. His helmet continued onward for a moment and he hit his forehead on the inside of it as his head caught up. The sudden pain caused him to lose focus. Arms continued forward as did legs. The helmet then snapped back in slow motion. All his limbs spreading wide on the return, continuing until his body stopped them with sinewy, mortal muscles and ligaments.
Both hands opened and it was then that David became alert. Over, far away, in his left hand there was a recollection of a wrench. His left hand was open and the wrench was leaving its known universe of the glove to wander the blackness beyond. It gracefully pirouetted and spun away, lingering long enough for David to imagine it saying ‘You caught me once, thanks for the dance, now it’s good bye’. That wrench with the reverse head, of which there was only one on the station, the only reason why it was special and the only reason why he had lunged after it when he lost his concentration earlier.
David didn’t move. The wrench slowly arced away from him, gradually disappearing into the void.
Silence.
Twang.
The wrench lurched to a stop. The microfilament line latched onto David’s belt had caught it. It bounced and turned but was securely fastened invisibly to his belt.
David jerked too. His whole body rocked and almost spasmed with the realisation that the wrench was not unattached. This changed his perception of the universe entirely. He hung there, in the void, watching the wrench as it bounced and rocked on the end of the line. This time he’d not set up his own work gear. He never attached everything to his belt. These days, he was far more casual, giving the privilege of a line to the larger, more expensive pieces. Certainly not this lowly little wrench, even if it was the only one aboard. There would be other ways of doing the job without it and these days that unexpected challenge was often the only thing of interest left in the job.
“Hahaha. Well bugger me!” His voice was so incredibly loud it tore through his helmet and reverberated around his suit for several seconds. He didn’t notice. He could not take his eyes off the wrench.
After almost two whole minutes of watching as the small silver object lurched around on the end of the tether, David reached down to the line and reeled it in. Once it was tamed, he securely fastened it for the trip back. Of course. Wouldn’t want a stray hunk of metal attached to the wrist if you had to grab hurriedly for a railing over a window. Much less danger to the hull of the station if the metal projectile was attached to the waist. And that’s all it was. Just a projectile. Everything out here was a projectile. Even him. Especially him.
His tether, the white one with orange and blue beacons every fifty centimetres, lay taut between his suit harness and the outside of the station above him, twenty meters away. David turned and grasped it with his right hand and then did not move.
The station was silvery with many reflecting sections and veins and antennas and glass domes where all sorts of measuring instruments had been set up to maximise its limited lifetime before it too was claimed by the Cleaner. It reflected the oranges and reds of the clouds down below in the gravity well. Deep down in the abyss where the dust, the station, the entire universe were all slowly moving towards oblivion.
David could not move his hand. His stomach was slowly tangling itself up his throat once more. The acrid taste of bile lingered. David swallowed hard, and then swallowed again as his saliva glands came alive. He closed his eyes. This feeling could not be allowed to take him out here. He concentrated on breathing in slowly and out more slowly. The anxiety decreased, his stomach slowly retreated, and his saliva stopped trying to drown him.
He opened his eyes and took another couple of deep breaths. A tear ran down his cheek and he met it with a smile. The feeling was gone and was not going to come back. This he knew. This he had done before.
As he looked at the station, the matt finish of the upper deck windows made him realise that he had already been here. He looked around. The station had only just been set up and he was finalising a few last minute tasks before the scientists came in the following day. He had never been here before.
But the windows looked back at him with their unblinking stare and told him that he had been here before. Déjà vu. But why? He searched his memory and came up with nothing. The intensity faded and he looked around, searching for something which he could pin down. The feeling left him.
David reached out with his left hand and grasped the tether. A blue beacon succumbed to the pressure of his hand, the little beacons were malleable, like super stress balls. Glowing there in the dark they could be squeezed and squeezed again and always bounce back. They lit his way home and they always reminded him of the edible gummies they sold at the Sugar Shoppe next to the pizza parlour on Sol Outer Station 3. He smiled. Great pizzas there.
David looked up at the station and then closed his eyes. The feeling was gone. He could not repeat it.
Another hand pulled him one step closer to the station’s hull. Soon he was there and all the little orange and blue beacons had reformed to balls after his passage. An edible gummy now would certainly make him throw up. He laughed at this and shook his head, stopping himself with a hand against the hull as he came up to it.
One more pull with his hand, sideways, and his workspace came into full view. The almost completed job looked blankly back at him as he hung there.
But a pizza! Now that would go down well. Extra mushrooms and ham and onions on a thin crisp, crust, freshly out of the oven. Like the last time he had been there. About to tuck into his favourite…
The feeling returned.
He turned to look at the vast orange swirl, bending in on itself. So far away but so close. Such a small thing in the universe, but so vastly enormous that a human being just couldn’t comprehend it. It had been the Cleaner. The sense of déjà vu had not been for a place but for a feeling and that had been triggered by the Cleaner.
That sensation tapped at the edges of his consciousness. His right hand clasped the runner tightly, his breathing became heavy and he turned around to the station. The closeness of the metal forced the sensation to go away. He focused on the rivets and forced his breathing to slow. Deep, slow breaths.
‘Do not, under any circumstance, while working in space, allow fear and anxiety to overcome you. Or you will die.’ That was his training. This feeling was known as Blue Water Syndrome. He knew it now. The syndrome divers used to get back on Earth when they were in deep open water. With no references to latch onto and no sense of scale with which to place their presence in the world, they just went insane. Insane enough to dive deep when they should be heading for the surface. Insane enough to swim straight out into the ocean without ever thinking to look back. And when spacers got it, it was far worse. Spacers can’t even make a reference if they want to. Bubbles could be made in water, but in space? Spacers had been known to destroy their ships thinking the ship was an invader to their otherwise perfectly black world. Peripheral vision cut out, focus was lost and not even the pinpoints of stars could be seen when someone lost it out here. Others drowned in their own vomit which they couldn’t get away from in the confines of the helmet…
Focus.
Time to finish the job. It only took a few minutes to restore the circuitry, replace the outer faceplate and make sure that it was all locked back in place properly. One last little shake on the faceplate’s rails and it was done.
Just like when the chef gave the pizza one light sprinkling of oregano and let it rest on the bench for a minute after it came out of the oven. It took another couple of minutes to make it to David’s table, but it was always still a little too hot to eat for a few more after that. That gave time for conversation. His stomach started its inevitable ascent once more. He was starting to return to the clear blue water.
Eyes closed. Feeling under control.
He turned around. The long snaking reel of the tether was gathered below him. David smiled. Out here he was a master of control. He’d looked into the eye of the Cleaner, it had taken him completely and he’d managed to win. He’d had assistance, sure, but he’d done it. David looked straight at the Cleaner. If the tether was going to pull him out of it then he had nothing to lose. This feeling would consume him again and again if he didn’t. It was time to become intimate with it.
A very light tap with his hands was all that was needed to push him away from the hull. At first the feeling didn’t come so he relaxed. The Cleaner spread out in front of him, the red swirls straightened and they spiralled down into the abyss.
Ten minutes away. Only ten minutes.
He went.
Twang.
And he was not so far gone this time. The feeling had returned, the nausea, the terror of the abyss, his eyes feeling like they would pop when his brain exploded through them.
David knew this feeling now and was beginning to become intimate with it.
Again he returned to the station and again he let fly into the Cleaner.
Twang.
And this time he laughed with joy. Almost. Almost in control.
A different alarm bell sounded, the colour in the suit changed and a repugnant smell filled his suit. It made him gag initially. In fifteen minutes he would have no oxygen left.
David hung there in space wriggling his arms and legs, laughing as hard as he could.
Close enough! He could do it now. He could win against this terror from inside.
The twenty meters back to the station was done in under two minutes. David cheered and laughed. Perhaps it was time for some mushrooms, ham and onions.
***
David sits down at the window in the Pizza Shop. People rush past outside, their heels clicking on the pavement. There are smiles on their faces. Mostly. Some are in too much of a hurry, but not David. He settles into his chair and clasps his hands. The evening is young and there is almost nothing else he wants to do tonight than eat his pizza. He has returned to Sol Station 3 and finds the irony of the people ‘outside’ amusing. They feel like they are outside and yet from where he has come from, they merely fool themselves in this gigantic station. But it is a happy bliss and besides, the food here is excellent.
With a glance over his shoulder, he looks at the patrons in the shop and studies them for a moment. Laughter and the noise of conversation greets him.
Then come the smells. Aromas fill the parlour. Cheese and onions, ham and anchovies, there are many toppings laid out in buckets along the counter just ready for an order. The makers of the pizzas are conducting their symphonies behind the low-rise glass partition which keeps those from the streets away from the delicacies of the food.
David smiles, anticipating. His meal comes, it is his favourite. Still only a crowd of strangers fills the parlour.
People on the street go by unnoticed. They talk and bustle and one gets pushed into the window right in front of David. An accident met with apologies but David flinches and does not notice the figure that moves in through the door.
The first piece is fantastic! He has been in space for three months now and it has been four since he last had one of these. He takes his time to work through the piece. Chewing slowly and savouring each morsel.
“David?” He turns and there is only one person.
“Hello Skye.” David can’t control the smile which races from one ear to the other.
She smiles. “May I join you? You have been away for a long time.”
He nods. Her top is a beautiful shade of orange. She sits, her long brown hair falls gently down over her shoulder.
“I had a job to do at a new station,” he says. “several systems away. It took a while to get the place in good order.” David notices the glint in her eye. The tinge of orange on her cheek reflecting from the blouse.
There. On her top. Swirling and turning but with no pattern as it is not there. The process has begun.
She has said something and he nods in agreement, there is nothing else for him to do. He cannot think. He cannot move. She looks at him and up from the depths of her eyes comes the Cleaner. The bottomless, unforgiving sensation that consumes him and tears him apart.
This is what happened last time. And the time before, but there is a recollection it was someone different that time. David cannot remember.
He makes some comment about the food and offers her some of his. She accepts. He cannot say anything about the weather as there is none. It is a space station. It must have been so much easier for people in pre-space times.
Silence.
The Cleaner has imposed its silence. Vacuuming up all the noise before it moves onto the next table. David has lost his smile. He chides himself. It is the most important thing.
Have fun with her! He thinks, but he can’t. He has changed altogether because of her and because of her, he cannot let it go.
David drops his left hand to his pocket. A blue gummy from the store next door greets his hand with a warm welcome. He squeezes it and focuses. Makes a comment about the aromas and how wonderful they are to experience again.
Skye asks about his trip and he tells her. It is all in point form. Staccato.
There is a pause and it is too long. He breaths deeply, fights the sensation of bile and asks after her and what she has been up to in the last four months since they were here. She answers. The answer extends to some detail and David relaxes a little. The smile returns.
She stops. He stammers a joke he thought of on the return voyage. Although it is lame and practiced, she laughs.
The Cleaner is still there. But he can feel his tether. It is in his pocket, encased in the fingers of his left hand and it is starting to bring him round. He doesn’t notice as it begins to melt.
The conversation continues and David starts to relax. The orange of her top still forces his stomach to rise. The fight to keep it down is hard but he is winning. Slowly, he is winning.
They are almost finished his pizza when the man sitting beside David stumbles. David reaches out instinctively with his left hand and leaves a sticky mess of blue gummy on the man’s sleeve. Words are exchanged and Skye sees his hand. All is lost. His stomach falls the other way, plummeting to depths he didn’t know existed.
He heads for the door, an escape from the commotion and stops outside. She is close behind him.
Outside Skye comes to him and asks, so he explains while he tries to clean his hand with a hanky. He is not looking at her. Then she places her hand on his cheek. He flinches but finds her smiling at him.
“That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.” Skye says. And then she leans into him, giggles and pokes out her tongue. It is blue. “I had one to settle my nerves before coming in.” She whispers. “I knew you got back sometime yesterday but I wasn’t sure if you’d come so soon.”
David bursts forth in laughter. All the tension flooding through his body is expelled to be left only with joy. All he can say is: “Got back this morning. We were delayed.”
She laughs kissing him on the cheek.
“I think you need a new gummy,” she says, takes his hand and leads him to the Sugar Shoppe next door.
(c) Peter Loughlin 2004.