Archive 501
Vivian Galván García
Sitting in a Tin Can I
By Mariana FolacheI have hundreds of fears: being stuck in a falling elevator or collapsing scaffolding, the deep-sea water pressure that can flood a submarine, global oblivion, bad spirits haunting or possessing me, and so on... But most of all, being the last human stranded on a spaceship while stuck in outer space trumps them all (well, being in space in general terrifies me). I think that’s why I chose my job and also because fear (in general) fascinates me. It makes me somehow want to confront the thing I fear even more, and just face it same as a bull faces life: head first, horns up. Baring all that in mind, it’s no surprise that I ended up studying Engineering, specializing in outer space mechanics. The inevitable next step was flying out to space, joining Major Tom and Laika out here.
I was sent here to this station, No. 9437, to fix the solar panels on the exploration satellites, a “normal” maintenance job. This station is positioned right behind the dust ring of Jupiter’s furthest point from Earth, approximately 967 million km from home. I was supposed be here for 3 months, as of right now I’ve been here for 6.
On my third week in my station, a Solar Flare hit the Earth and most of our other space stations. I was protected along with a couple others by the planets our stations happened to be hiding behind, shielded. The flare was brutal, it ravaged everything it touched, the sun rays were literal enormous flames licking and destroying everything in their path. Within one of the earth’s typical rotations the fires spread throughout the planet and most terrestrials died, in just 24 hours, humanity was almost completely decimated.
Before earth transmissions cut out we heard a little bit more news about the survivors. A submarine had survived but ran out of food before the sun was safe; and some had tried to survive at the Svalbard Global Seed Vault, but seeds won’t fill up your stomach, they make your thirst even more ruthless. Those were Earth’s last transmissions.
By the fifth day only 3 humans remained, Sam on station No. 2805 (located just behind Neptune), Nina on station No. 8471 (located just at the limit of our known galaxy) and I.
We kept talking to each other, hearing a living human voice soothed our pain; even though we knew it would soon be gone since the flare would destroy all the radios from our species, at some point.
I lost them too on the eighth day, when earth’s radio signal completely gave out. I eventually couldn’t listen to anything anymore, not even the incessant static of the radio. I could only hear myself. My breath, my heart, the sound of my clothes while I moved, the food moving slowly down my throat and my stomach churning and growling.
Did you know that astronauts can’t cry?
*chuckle*
*chuckle*
Since there is no gravity out here, my tears can’t actually flow down my face.
I know it’s unbelievable, but seeing my physical liquid sadness start to float around as if it were rain; has become a common experience since the first flare.
Either way it doesn’t matter to me anymore, I ran out of food 4 days ago and water just this morning. Taking all of that into consideration, I would give me around 5 more days before I join the rest of our species in the great unknown. 5 more days until I’m just a body with no heart beat sitting or maybe even floating with my tears in a random tin can, far above the world.
Yellow.
That’s all I see as the sun light blasts through the cupola, directly over me for the first time since the initial flare. I let the warmth prickle my skin, bringing me back to life, little by little.
Suddenly, I open my eyes. Somehow, I made it rain inside the satellite again. The sun looks very different today.
A small rainbow forms where the sun illuminates my floating tear reflecting a line of colors through the dull inside of the tin satellite.
*smile*
Finally, there’s hope.
Finally, there’s hope.