Through The Void

Inky black oozing its grip. Stars that come come to die. You scream, and scream, and scream, but there is no echo. Clawing, clawing, clawing your arms, what you think are your arms out. Reaching for anything to reach back, but it just retracts back; it reminds you that this is no dream.

It is what I wanted. I signed on. No one else would. I say that like it's the reason I did it. It wasn't.

They said the mission would be successful. All the precautions have been taken. This craft is advanced enough to make it there and back. It won't be like the first time.

I can only imagine what Astaire felt. Communications have failed. The ship's power has died.

It has abandoned him. A metal tomb for him to exist in. It must have brought back bad memories of his mother.

The heat presses into the suit. It crushes down on your chest; forces breaths quicker than you want.

Were it not for the hardly visible ship interior, you wouldn't know you were alive. It is a silent, vast hell. To be left with the begging of your mind, unable to release against the nothing around you, that's hell.

The ship dragged back from under me. I thought it was a black hole. Turns out they found me. A ship pulled me from that pocket dimension back to Earth.

I came home, what is left of it, to a hero's welcome. They wouldn't shut up about how incredible it was. 'The miracle of our times'; the 'man who lived through the void' they called me.

I got to sit with some of the other people who had come home. They all looked at me like I was some God. The whole time, they all chatted about me. They all wanted to know what it was like, and how I made it. They were nice people. I wonder how they would've felt if I told them what I really went there for.

They gave me a medal. I sold it. I gave the funds to my old physics teacher. He was the most parental person I ever had. Figured it would be thanks enough.

Never saw him smile quite as wide as that day he got the money. He could hardly contain himself. He ended up passing away less than a week later. I killed the bastard with kindness.

So little changed about Earth. Just as corroded, black, and smoggy as it has been. Tubes still running everywhere keeping what is left of humanity alive, stupid, and hungry.

The old home was as rotted too. Could never afford to protect it all from the elements. All hunkered down in the garage. When I was flown back there, mother was lying in a chair; little friends wriggling all over her.

They took her body away. I organized her funeral. Two people showed up. Not much of our family left. A priest spouted about where she is now.

I imagined her ghost, and everyone else's, in that void. If I had been kept there a while longer, maybe I could have found them. Told them how much their families miss them back home.

Then you came to me after. You didn't care for me living alone in the old house. You took me into your place, gave me a sleeping bag in the garage. The old TV there had me spiraling. It brought me back to when David was around.

We spent a couple weekends at your place watching horror films. I guess you can't spank us for that now. Even so, those tapes are too haunted for me to watch them. I tried for the first few weeks, but I couldn't stop seeing his wide, dumb face by me while they were on.

I was invited to the Capitol building. It was this big shindig about scientific progress; how much closer we were to humanity's salvation. That sentimental garbage. I was shocked they could stomach that much talk with how much shit littered the gardens outside.

They said it was a brave thing I did. The leader gave some big address about how it was thanks to efforts like that mission that we were not doomed to extinction; a slow death on this rotting rock we created.

I can hear you now, telling me to hush that talk. Giving me the same empty promise that things will turn out. Nobody knows, do they? As hard as we work to carve our own path, the universe, that devilish mistress, has its own plan. I write this to you because I know you cannot give me that angry look face to face. I know how you get when I bring up things larger than ourselves.

I cannot blame you. It's how I was. It's why I could never adjust to life in your house. So many days staring at a blank ceiling, letting time rot me away. When they asked me back for another mission, I couldn't say no.

Funny, isn't it? Some hero I am. So heroic they draft me back there without a second thought. Suppose that's how it has been for all of these "volunteers."

Now, I don't know what to do. I told myself I wanted to stay in that void. Christ, can't believe I'm even writing this shit to you. It's taking every concentration of muscle not to toss this. I'd rather go on without a word. I don't have anything that would make it any better.

I'm not sure I can keep on. The Earth has no place for humanity anymore. I can feel it. Mother has dealt with our bullshit for too long. I hope we can prove her wrong, but as days go by...as bureaucrats slink further and further apart....as more of us are left to die, stripped of our means of life....I just cannot be sure anymore.

As I brace for whatever other hell is out there, I silently hope I don't come back. If I do, I cannot do this anymore.

Please, find me. Help me see as you do. Show me the way. Show me the way.

Your nephew,

Andrew