The Homecoming

With the passage of time, the omnipresent buzz of the generators - and God knows what else in the bowels of that cathedral of circuits - had become like a second skin. Funny how the white noise coming from the racks was indifferent to him and could, at the same time, launch its messages in the most modulated and subtle of languages, in a perfect symbiosis. After months, Ethan was instantly aware when something in the monotonous chanting cracked, foretelling one of the increasingly frequent system errors. He was developing a third ear in place of a third eye.

He just smiled at the thought, his gaze fixed on the secondary pylons n. 6 and 11, the last still working in the experimental orbital station DDG-31/DD-936 Decatur, renamed "The Decaf".

Silence was a mute vowel screaming inside him. Always. React to the atrophic thinking. Dodge the anguish, sharp like the debris of that day. The slashed modules were like scenic elements for a cheap movie. All the modules except his one. Follow procedures, rituals, checklists. All this to not raise his gaze and stare, right in front of him, the hangover of so much pain.

Castaway. At some point, he had renamed the pylons Romeo & Juliet. For each orbital period, about 90 minutes, the two arms were almost touching each other. A fleeting kiss and again far away. From the beginning of the mission, he had liked to play the game of renaming equipment and modules with funny nicknames. He allowed himself a slow sigh.

The inclination of the station displayed the earth down there. He had promised never to look in that direction again but the mauve colour, so iridescent, so alive, so omnipresent, took him by surprise once again. He thought for a moment that it was.. beautiful.. and the remorse for that thought flooded him soon after. Ethan hid his face between his hands as the tears surfaced and many names knocked on his heart's door once again. Inside him, a spark of curiosity wondered if it was possible to locate one of the 19 towers between the mauve nanoparticles' clouds.

“Ethan, I suggest that you sleep in 30 minutes. I detect slightly high levels of cortisol, are…”

“Thank you. I was going right now, old scrap”. He replied to the metallic yet familiar voice through the speakers.

He suddenly suffocated all those idle musings, it was time to rest. According to Querquobad, tomorrow was going to be the day.

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Halfway into what seemed like a short rest, Ethan’s ears separated the almost silent grit that was composed each time Romeo and Juliet almost kissed. He turned slightly on his side as the sound registered at the northern pole of his mind, thousands of kilometres away from the calmness that soothed his soul as he snored.

His subconscious measured the seconds, shifting uneasily as what should last for less than a second hummed like the low buzz of electricity that ran through The Decaf. The hum reached him in his calmness and forced his tired soul to seek his body among the living.

Ethan was convinced his mind was playing tricks on him. Solitary months had fostered dreams where machines chased each other like couples drunk on intoxicating love. Perhaps it was the marriage of Romeo and Juliet and the hum was the far away din of the celebration. But his soul had returned to his body and now, he must inspect what celebration was taking place.

He opened his eyes but it was his ears that saw. The eyes of the ears, now engaged by his conciousness, saw the aching rotors, the gritting pendulums and the electricity rushing through the circuits like foxes set aflame and forced into fields. His eyes turned to the heap that were his clothes and underwear but the eyes of his ears shifted them to door.

His legs raced each other to the door, betraying the supposed calmness in his heart. “There’s nothing wrong with The Decaf,” he muttered to himself, a futile effort at preventing his heart from joining his legs in the race.

“Status report!” he spat, arriving the cockpit, producing the command with a sliver of fear as a sudden jolt ran through the ship forcing him to lose balance. He steadied himself and waited for the metallic voice. Instead, his ears picked up the grind of a pylon against another. It was the generator, gritting as if in pain. His legs propelled him to middle of the dashboard where he pulled on a lever.

At the pull of the lever, his knees caved in as some celestial being turned the ship some forty-five degrees on its right side. He fell back, his back propped sideways on what should be a wall. He reached out to the chair in the centre of the cockpit with his right hand and pulled himself up. He slammed his left hand on the green button on the dashboard and his body took flight at once.

Floating in zero gravity, his eyes became aware of the onlooking gaze of the blue planet before him. His nostalgia was beheaded by the blaring of the alarm that sliced through his thoughts. He was falling out of orbit! He was going home at last. A sudden jolt forced him to roll on his side….

Ethan opened his eyes; his naked body, freshly baptised in a pool of sweat, had rolled off the bed.

Entry for the Finish The Story Contest - WEEK #29