Blackness. Thick, inky, absolute. The absence spreads out for eons into the outer depths. Minuscule pinpricks, motes of blazing eternal white show out of the deep dark like an infinitude of fireflies plastered against the endless backdrop. Some pulse and twinkle through the eternal night, many more sit motionless, apparent, breathless and waiting to bear witness to the birth, beginning, tragedy, demise, end and rebirth; a cyclic, atemporal and continuous crescendo. All is silent and still as the stars sit at the edge of their millennia worn seats for the celestial conductor to raise her hands to the heavens and signal the symphony’s climax.
Click. A single note erupts upon the quiet tenebrous stage, a small and sullen sound that booms like thunder in the absence of all other sounds. A machine hums to life waking up a metal bubble adrift in a sea of stars. How long has this solitary craft been afloat across the open skies of night when time itself loses meaning? The cacophony begins to reach new heights as more and more life preserving mechanisms trigger aboard the spaceship. Oxygen and nitrogen enrich the inner atmosphere. Heat raises temperatures from nearly absolute zero to a more comfortable earthly norm. Lights switch on to a tolerable visible dim to allow the sleepers to see upon their imminent awakening yet not overwhelm their tired eyes. Coffee beans are saturated with hot water and begin a gentle brew, filling the capsule with a rich, dark scent that would make mouths water were any noses available to inhale the heady vapors.
Throughout all this, the five cryogenic stalls begin the thawing process. The astronauts within have been in a state of suspended animation since their departure. What dreams may come to those who sleep such prolonged slumbers? The men and women come to their senses, showered by the heated gels and vaposteams that safely readjust the human body from the dangers of cryo-sleep. The wondrous odors of breakfast waft over the cabin, instructing them to eat and fill their empty maws left unsated for many days, months, perhaps years. Eggs, bacon, toast, the stalwarts of a hardy American meal, cooked by automation and readily prepared from several prepackaged insta-feasts at their disposal. The astronauts eat quickly, but carefully, ravenous with hunger but allowing for their bodies to readjust to the sensation of food and drink entering their digestive tracts for the first time in ages. There is work to be done so there is no time for idle chitchat. Besides, what would those who have only seen each other for what feels like moments ago have to talk about?
Five souls alone in the vastness, five lives among the infinite, an abundance of time and space before them, they overlook and engage the many instruments which abound their humble ensemble and begin the grand performance. Astronavigation detects the direction from which they have travelled, how far they have come and what distance they have yet to go. Environmental controls are checked for any discrepancies within their habitat: proper air pressure, sufficient food and water, the necessities of terrestrial life. The pilot looks ahead, their eyes on the prize, checking the immediate surroundings for debris and other dangers. Their job may be the most important of all this late in the venture, requiring the most deft hand and careful control. To each, they have their own little tasks and they complete these timely and efficiently. Their journey is nearing completion. Within a few short hours the craft will dock with their final destination and then the bridge to the final chorus can begin.
#FlashFicFeb
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