Twenty-four Hours in the Wormhole

Orson knew that wormholes could collapse at any time. The scanners used for collecting data in wormholes, were still in their primitive state, but his probe had made it safely to a nearby sector with almost no delay, so thrill-seeker Orson pressed the button on the helm that drove his tiny scout ship into the heart of the wormhole. No one was sure what happened inside a wormhole, but Orson was about to find out.

He had expected the initial flash of light. He'd seen it with the probe, but now that he was inside the wormhole he couldn't move. It was as though his brain was disconnected from his body. He tried to move his eyes, but they refused to move from the spiraling light show that engulfed the main screen. While his brain was screaming his heart and breath were still. Finally he managed to mentally catch his breath.

Orson focused on the numbers projected on the lower edge of the screen. The chronometer was motionless. Everything else was normal. "One, one thousand, two one thousand, three." He stopped himself. This wasn't the way to calibrate a time dilation. He'd heard that certain areas of space were known for sending space travelers insane. He wondered how long he could maintain his sanity with only the spiraling light on the view-screen as input. He tried to recall the time it had taken the drone to get through the wormhole. "Three point five seconds," he thought. "Damn".

Something was wrong. His body was not moving, but of course there wouldn't be any movement if the chronometer was still. He would have to wait till the chronometer clicked. "If it clicked." He forced that thought from his mind.

He thought back to his very early years, and astronaut training. Time Dilation theory had made his head hurt, and because of that theory they'd had him learn to spend hours on end without any external stimulation. The longest he'd managed to go was twenty-four hours. He'd washed out and gone rogue shortly after that.

"So if the chronometer doesn't move within eight hours from now, I'm as good as dead," he thought. The spiraling light of the view-screen allowed him to focus briefly before pulling him into its hypnotic trance. He'd survived before by imagining he was creating new worlds from his short past. "At least I have a few more years of experience to draw on this time," he thought.

Christa was a red haired bombshell that he'd met at the academy. Orson relived the time he'd really spent with her and well beyond their time at the academy. Their second child had just been born when the illusion was shattered as the Chronometer clicked off the first second. He could almost feel Christa's hand squeezing his as he tried to recall how long he'd been on this ship. They'd never had children in real life, and that hole in his life made him shiver... Finally the feeling faded. He was still in the wormhole and not quite a third of the way through.

This time as he chose his imaginary world he determined to avoid Christa. The emotion of leaving her still left a tight empty feeling in his chest. He remembered when he was designing the ship he was in. He recalled sketching the shell and designing the engines and circuitry. It was during this part of his life that he had left Christa. The feeling of loss left a mental lump in his throat and his heart shivered again.

As he pushed that thought aside, his mind was briefly paralyzed with fear at the thought that his leaving her might have made him miss something. Then he recalled the shipyard engineer reassuring him that his ship was years ahead of its time. Before he could think of Christa again, the chronometer clicked.

He forced the remaining fear and pain from his motionless chest as he considered his next mental project. The emotions he'd felt so far seemed to be more intense than he remembered, he was afraid if his emotions became too intense, his body might not survive. He recalled his last mathematics class and determined to find a math problem that would occupy his time. When the chronometer clicked again, Orson struggled to keep his mind from shivering. The cold logic of exploring the largest known prime number made him feel like he was freezing to death.

He felt like he was shivering from intense cold, but his body still had not moved. The spiraling lights had changed subtly, a good sign, he hoped. But could he survive this last leg?

"Dammit!" he screamed mentally. So close, but he knew his body would not survive this last stretch if he didn't find a way to warm up. He thought briefly of Christa but was afraid of letting his emotions take him that direction. He tried imagining his favorite blankets and every bonfire he could remember, but nothing worked.

He could feel his sanity slipping, as the cold in his heart became more intense. Why did Christa have to be so beautiful? Why did he run? He mentally took her hand, and looked into her deep green eyes. "I'm sorry," he thought pulling her close. He knew that if he didn't embrace her now, he would not survive.

Finally the view-screen cleared and real space returned. He exhaled and breathed deeply. His heart felt heavy and icy cold in his chest as he stretched the soreness in his muscles away. The toll on his body had been real. He took another deep breath then checked the nearest time/communication beacon. He could reach civilization real time. He activated a communication channel.

"Contact Christa Michaels," he said, reveling in the sound of his own voice.

His hand drifted toward the self-destruct. If she didn't answer or worse, refused to answer, he would hit the button. His heart would stop long before he could get help, and the terror of the time in the worm hole was fresh on his mind. He had to know if she would have him back.

It seemed like forever, and he wondered if he'd fallen back into the wormhole. He took a deep breath to confirm that he was still in real space. Finally Chirsta's face appeared on the tiny com screen. "Orson?"

"Christa," he said, smiling with relief at the look on her face. "We need to talk." He took a deep breath. "I love you."

He pulled his hand away from he self-destruct as she smiled on the other end.

He could feel his heart again.