Cocoon, a short fiction across between 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY & GRAVITY. Glimpse.
Alaric had stared into the blankness like it were lifeless ocean, intentionally, searching for an atom of hope. Tears sprung in his glazed, passive eyes, like tiny droplets of rain trickling down a glass window. The flashlight from the head visor was switched on. Illuminated like glow-sticks. His head facing the bubble dome called planet earth. From here, it seemed like stunning painting. A blob of paint. But he’d had drowning in her thoughts since she’d been gone. He thought about this one female, believing if his life came to an end any soon, he’d want to analyse this. Analyse what went wrong. There was lyrics calling out on the radio, words from Coldplay’s Ghost Stories soundtrack, ALWAYS IN MY HEAD.
There was a sound, identical to a brewing thunderstorm. A long stretch of thunderous, traveling vibrations. If these vibrations were visible, it’d look like rippling waves from a puddle. He could feel it quiver through his body, faintly. Here, in space? It had to come from this lifeform. A huge ball of a planet, about the size of earth, like the moon on surface-material. Alaric’s eyes moist and listless, without focus, despite those dark eyes pointed towards this lifeform. The completely black surface of it clouded over Alaric like a brute shadow. His face reflected onto the glass visor, superimposed though. There was a twinkle of glint in the corner inside of his left eye.
There’s a voice speaking to you?..
His eyes narrowed, followed by a twitch of brows that ached into a worm-like shape coming together. He registered a voice, separate from his accumulating thoughts. It spoke to him. Like it were something, or someone talking, projecting a voice inside his mind. Something had established a mental mind-link, involuntarily. Telepathy possibly, with a sinister sense of lingering supernatural atmosphere. It was enough to distract him away from her thoughts.
“Some Coldplay… It’s a radio, receives and transmits digital broadcast signals from the space satellite. It’s called, technology. A different of kind of talking… I like to tune into some music now and then.”
“…Are you, God?…” Alaric thought.
God?… Don’t insult Him!… I’m not a planet. It confirmed.
“An unidentified alien life-form?”
How could astronomers have not discovered this, Alaric thought. You could see it through a telescope.
Alaric slowly pulled out his iPhone in front of him. He wandered if Siri worked in space. He knew, the iPhone had been to space.
“Hey Siri, define Alien?”
Let me think about that…
… From 7 definitions of “alien” the first one is; a person who comes from a foreign country; someone who does not owe allegiance to your country.
Followed by suggested or provided remaining definitions. That pretty much summed that up, Alaric thought.
Is that home? Planet earth… you’re from there?
Alaric raised the small mirror attached onto his right forearm, reflecting a view of the world, and took a glance. Planet earth remained in it’s usual place, it hadn’t moved since. But more so, Alaric was searching for debris, a cloud of asteroid shrapnel, anything… It was catastrophic. At least that’s what Alaric thought it was, a crash. There had to be debris. But nothing like it. Alaric turned slowly towards earth. His eyes then turned away from it.
“Yes, that’s planet Earth, the World. Blue planet…” He pointed towards Earth, with a sense of fascination.
“4.54 billion years of age, home to 7.046 billion species, human beings, like myself. That’s the readings obtained from Google search engine since 2012. And one less.” He addressed that one female.
Like dots. From here, you would need a microscope to magnify each individual… Your beings create quite the night electric traffic. Quite similar the constellation of stars here… I am just a whole of, one.
Curiosity grew over Alaric, more so, surprised by such remark.
“What happened to the International Space Space?… The debris. Clouds of shrapnel? My crew, did we crash? ”
Suddenly he felt like he were suffering from short-term memory. No recollection of what really happened, just distorted fragments that really didn’t improve stirring clearer memories and importantly, the situation.
I shrunk to an atom to avoid collision.
“We didn’t crash?… What of the crew?… He answered and yet was still analysing such remark. There was no response. No voice to answer that.
. . .
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