Fresh Ink 2022
Adrift
2nd Place - Short Fiction
Joseph Spezzano* Alone, weightless and spinning; this was all I could care to feel right now. Most people’s reaction to such an ejection would be one of fear, fueled by a primal sense of self-preservation. I, however, felt nothing. “Stabilizers engaged,” the familiar, vaguely feminine, robotic voice remarked from the speakers embedded into my ears. Now I felt something –the weak thrusters on my suit slamming me to a complete and utter stop. From here, the blackness of space wasn’t as dark as I had originally thought. Past the drifting chips of white paint and tangled mess of what was once the ASP-RL0128 were hundreds –no thousands–of twinkling stars. They were far, not impossibly far; but definitely greater than the distance my outstretched hand could reach. “Suit energy critical: Non-vital functions are now offline. Re-establish a connection with the nearest power tether immediately.” The voice spoke once more, and the small, white LED illuminating the inside of my padded helm shut off –as did the four displays just beyond my peripheral vision. It was rather amazing how much light those flat rectangular displays emitted, but it was even more astonishing how much of the universe they concealed behind their polluting glow. Just as my helm had plunged into darkness, a new light began to shine from the rosy, pink puffs and swirling aqua marine clouds that snaked through and around the drifting celestial bodies. Exo planets, either blue or unremarkable shades of grey, were all tangled in this parcel of stardust. Embedded within the exotic nebula surrounding the star system were glittering flakes of ice, riding along what I could only describe as long white locks of silky hair, which flowed throughout space. As for where they came from, that was far beyond where my eyes could currently see–and so, I craned my neck and looked up. “Warning: Anomaly detected,” my suit chirped unnecessarily, and I was now face to face with what I could only describe as her. Those puffy pink clouds, with their swirling green curls, blotchy blue seas and silver tendrils weren’t just a nebula, but a body; a body that belonged to none other than the universe herself who had humbly graced my insignificant, primitive self with her presence. Before me was a face, featureless beyond the two silver eyes looking down on me from above the event horizon they peered out from. Just like that, all three years of not just my own work, but that of all seventy-six crew members aboard the station was discarded –as the gem encrusted planet known as Solitude-22A and the black hole hugging 16
