by Steve Stred
A whirl sounded, followed by a countdown from twenty. Lizzie stepped back onto the platform.
Clicking the helmet clasp shut, Lizzie cleared their mind, focused on breathing, and tried to let the negativity out through their nostrils.
When the simulator sounded and the air was forced from the vents, Lizzie leaped ahead, feeling the weightless free fall begin.
Immediately memories flooded through their brain. Lizzie blinked, trying to focus as orb upon orb sailed by.
“You’ll always be special,” a mom says to their kid. The mom remains the same size, the kid growing and growing. Rain falls, years fly by, smiles fade to sad acceptances. The mom becomes frail. Fragile.
“Yes, but what am I?” the kid asks the mom, knowing any answer will never alleviate the pain that glows within their heart, the lightning that stabs into the soul.
“Special. You’re special,” the mom says, a tear falling as a cheek is caressed.
Lizzie snapped back, hearing the instructor yelling directions.
“Look for your color!”
Maureen yelled it over and over, to the point of exhausting Lizzie’s desire to even participate.
Finally, spent, Lizzie let their arms fall and was hurled high in the chamber. The instructor slammed the emergency shut-off switch. Lizzie floated back to the floor.
“What was that?”
“I’m done.”
“You can’t be done, Lizzie.”
“Do you think if I miss my orb, it’ll be painless?”
Lizzie tossed the helmet to the instructor, walking away without a response.
Chapter Three
“I heard what happened.”
Lizzie remained on the bench, knees pulled up against their chest. The sobs had stopped long ago.
“I shouldn’t exist.”
“Why?”
Lizzie’s jump partner Eric stepped closer, feeling the buzz of excitement he always felt while in their presence. Lizzie had his heart and the connection he longed for may not be reciprocated. That fear of rejection was enough to keep him at a distance.
Lizzie didn’t move, face turned towards the far wall.
Stepping beside Lizzie, he gave a playful nudge with his knee, hoping that it would be enough to get Lizzie to at least turn, see his face.
“I can’t describe it. There’s this weight pressing down. I know I’m going to jump, and I know my orb will sail past me, and then what? Another person turned to spectral dust.”
Eric sat in front of Lizzie’s shins. He put a gentle, comforting hand on a knee, hoping he wasn’t overstepping boundaries.
“Lizzie, we only have this one life to live. We’re getting older. Soon, we might very well be jettisoned or incinerated if they didn’t believe we had a role to fulfill here at home. You have to feel this? Our life passing us by? We need to jump, to see the color and grab it. Only then will we realize what we were supposed to do all along. Don’t you want to see what your life should’ve been? What it can be?”
A hitched sob sounded in the dark. Lizzie wiped their wet cheeks. They placed a hand on top of Eric’s. A squeeze, a joined acceleration of breathing. A shared closeness that felt forbidden.
Lizzie shifted, head now leaning against his shoulder.
“My mom always told me I was special.”
“You are. She was an amazing woman. Without her insight into a number of areas, who knows where we might be now as a species.”
“I just wish she was still here.”
Eric nodded. They all did.
“Eric?”
“Yeah, Lizzie?”
“Do you ever feel like each moment we live erases a moment from our past?”
He let out a sigh.
“Yes.”
“Is our time here speeding up? We’re closer to our jump date than when we began our time in the program. I’m afraid for what’s to come.”
“I’m not. I can’t wait. We’ve only ever been told about this in class. But to actually be one of the chosen? Phenomenal. We’re lucky to be selected.”
“Are we? I’m broken. None of this is forever. I’m not whole, not complete.”
Eric leaned over, kissed Lizzie’s forehead. Standing, he walked over to the exit.
“I’m always here for you Lizzie. You know that. I wish I’d have listened to every sound you’ve ever made, so that I could think about you for the rest of time. Remember how you smelled, your touch, your movements. We’ll get through this together. Take a sleeping pill, recharge. Tomorrow, we’ll do a tandem simulator jump. One step at a time. Together.”
Lizzie nodded in the dark.
“That sounds like a plan,” they said, Lizzie’s voice flat and uninspired.
“Goodnight,” Eric said, not knowing what else to say.
Chapter Four
Lizzie walked into the simulator room, the spirits inside their head not leaving.
The stars shone brightly in the distance, a vision of a dying dream.
Eric sat in his jumpsuit, helmet on, holding Lizzie’s.
He smiled. Lizzie returned an attempt.
“You ever feel lost? Like you can’t be found?”
Eric sighed, wishing the new day had brought a different outlook.
“No, Lizzie. I can’t say I have. You really are struggling, aren’t you?”
Lizzie was crying again, waves washing over them. Each sob added an additional layer of anxiety and sorrow.
“I can’t remember what she looks like, but I see her every night. I can’t remember what my face looks like before... when I was just...”
Lizzie fell into Eric’s arms, exhausted from the stress that had been building.
“Your darkness will go away, Lizzie. It will. The future is here, it’s waiting for us. If you’re lost, we’ll find a way. We need to have hope. Hope tells us that it’ll be OK. I swear.”
Lizzie nodded against his chest.
“OK. OK, let’s do this,” Lizzie said, sounding confident and ready to tackle the task at hand.
“I know it gets harder every day, as we get closer to the actual jump. Other students are going through this as well. We can only control what’s right before our eyes.”
Lizzie nodded, putting the helmet on their head and clicking the clasps shut, locking it in place.
“You two ready?” Maureen said, giving them a firm pat on their shoulders.
They both gave a thumbs up, stepping to the edge of the simulator.
The countdown began. Each time the voice spoke a number it rolled through Lizzie like a drumbeat.
Ten...boom...nine...boom...eight...boom...
LCD screens flashed and flickered, various directions scrolling, popping out and fighting for leverage in the reader’s eyes. Lizzie squinted, breath hitching and rolling like a train on the tracks. Panic festered and bloomed as the question began to dance behind eyes looking a thousand miles away.
What happens if I don’t catch my orb?
“Ready?” Eric asked, taking Lizzie’s hand and setting his feet into position. Lizzie looked over, got set and when the simulator launched, their entire vision took them to a place they’d long since forgotten.
Chapter Five
The grass is a deep green, so lush there is an unspoken law to only walk on it without shoes. You kick everything off on the sidewalk, socks and all, and feel the heavenly sensation of each blade caressing the soles of your feet as you dance.
A smile was always on Lizzie’s face when they visited. How could it not be? Grandma’s place was the pinnacle of childhood decadence. Candy in dishes to take as you wished, and toys in the corner where you played to your heart's content.
The adults left you alone – except Grandma. She’d come over and give Lizzie a hug or a kiss and ask how they were doing. Good, Lizzie would reply, their smile a smaller version of the elderly’s.
A thought came into the little one’s head then, a thought that continued to dominate them in the future.
“Grandma, what happe
ns if you don’t catch your orb?”
The lady makes a pssshhh sound, telling the child to not think of such things.
“Is mommy sick?”
“She is,” Grandma replies, taking her time to sit on the floor beside Lizzie. “Her doctors are doing everything they can to make sure she gets better.”
“No, she won’t,” Lizzie replies, causing a stern look to cross her Grandma’s face.
“Now, Lizzie! Why would you say such a thing?”
“I see it when I close my eyes. And I see that I miss my orb.”
Lizzie gets up and runs from the house, out onto the green grass. The Elder Level on the revolving ship is usually a calm space for habitants, but in one house, in one room, for one person, a sense of despair bathes over them while they sit on the floor.
Chapter Six
Lizzie found a return through the haze.
The air whooshed past, the orbs dancing in the LCD display.
“LIZZIE!” Eric yelled again. Lizzie was sure he’d been yelling for some time. His voice sounded hoarse, a result of repetitively screaming Lizzie’s name over the cacophony they found themselves in.
Lizzie extended a hand. Their fingers intertwined and then steadied. Lizzie focused, looking at the oncoming orbs, and spotted a subtle light blue shift in one amongst the purple.
Letting go of Eric’s hand, Lizzie pushed their arms out wide before closing them around the circular sphere.
SUCCESS-SUCCESS-SUCCESS
The voice boomed from speakers all around as the simulator powered down, and Lizzie could hear the jubilant shouts of excitement from the instructor and the control room.
This was Lizzie’s 175th attempt in the simulator since being selected for Salvation. This was the first time they were successful in grabbing their orb.
Stepping out of the simulator, smiles greeted the two jumpers.
“You did it!” Maureen yelled, wrapping her arms tightly around Lizzie. Lizzie went along for the ride, but wasn’t feeling the same sense of relief they saw on everyone else’s faces.
Eric offered a high five and Lizzie returned it, the efforts of a smile forcing the edges of their lips up.
Eric could see it in Lizzie’s eyes. The distant disinterest of the event.
“OK, before everyone comes and bruises Lizzie’s shoulders with celebratory punches, I think we need to head to debrief. Lizzie’s never been before, after all.”
Nods all around were followed by spoken congratulations, as Lizzie unclipped the helmet, setting it beside Eric’s.
The two left the simulator, one happier than the other.
As they made their way down the hall, up the elevator, and down more halls, they remained silent, the thrum of the revolving levels the only constant background noise.
Finally, Eric looked over, saw a returned glance and spoke.
“Oh, come off it, that was exciting, wasn’t it?”
“I guess,” Lizzie replied.
“You guess? You guess! You caught a fucking orb, Lizzie,” the rarely used F-word getting the reaction Eric hoped for, Lizzie laughing and letting go of the armor that had shielded their face.
“I did. And it should’ve made me feel something, shouldn’t it?”
They met eyes and remained that way until the elevator door dinged open.
Stepping through, they were silent, the piano strains of the elevator music filling the space above them.
Two hundred levels sailed by as they stood motionless, feeling the slow-down for their level after a few minutes.
Finally, it stopped, the doors opened, and they stepped out, standing before the glass entrance to the Debriefing Level.
“After you,” Eric said, pulling one of the doors open and letting Lizzie enter.
The Debriefing Level was the most unsettling level, other than the Incinerator-Jettison Level, on the ship. It was cold, metallic and the buzz of the VR Headsets left a copper taste in the back of one’s mouth.
A screen greeted them, asking for official identification. Eric scanned his card first, watching as his photo appeared, followed by his vital statistics and simulation results.
Name: Eric. Height: 6’0. Weight: 175lbs. Sex: Male. Success: 125. Failure: 12.
Lizzie stepped up next, cringing when the machine beeped as it read the card.
Name: Lizzie. Height: 5’4”. Weight: 129lbs. Sex: NB. Success: 1. Failure: 174.
Access granted, a soft voice said, the door to the right of the monitor opening.
The two stepped through the opening into a hallway. Fluorescent lights illuminated the space beyond necessity, and the grates that made up the floor clanked and thunked with each boot strike.
When they reached the first door on the right of the hallway, a screen illuminated, and Eric’s face appeared.
“This one’s for me,” he said, stepping through. Lizzie remained there until the door had closed and they were alone.
Lizzie walked to the next door, watching as their picture appeared and the door opened.
Unsure what to expect, Lizzie gazed into the darkened room as though it was the blackness of space.
“Welcome, Lizzie,” a calming robotic voice said, as low light raised along the walls. In the center of the room sat a sterile looking chair, medical in nature and design. Before it, at head level, was a large device, which Lizzie knew to be the VR set that would sit atop the patient’s head during the debrief. The buzzing grew louder the longer Lizzie stood there, the internal shouting of the brain telling them to run growing with each nanosecond.
“Please, do sit. We can begin.”
Lizzie approached the chair with unease, expecting chains to burst forward and wrap around wrists and ankles, holding them down until despair finally brought reprieve.
When nothing happened, Lizzie saddled the seat and found the piece of furniture far more comfortable than first impressions suggested.
“Please place the VR set over your head. The set will auto adjust for size and weight so that it will feel virtually weightless. Once you hear the chime, close your eyes while the ocular approximator sets the light brightness for your debriefing session. A second chime will sound, at which time you may open your eyes and meet your clinician.”
Lizzie reached out and grabbed the headset, feeling the resistance of the mechanical workings as it was placed over their head. Lowering both hands to rest comfortably on their lap, the headset calibrated and positioned itself with pinpoint accuracy. Lizzie thought it was not far off from a technician using the older generation of X-Ray devices. A chime sounded, eyes closed and beyond the eyelids lights flashed and flickered, the ocular approximator doing its job to ensure the session would be to the patient's comfort level.
A second chime sounded, Lizzie’s eyes opened and before them were a man and woman, both dressed in a white dress shirt and black dress pants.
“Hello, Lizzie,” they said in unison.
“Hello,” came the reply.
“Welcome, to your very first debriefing session. This is a very exciting time for you, now that you’ve had a successful orb connection. My name is Dr. Natasha Light, and this is Dr. Randall Glow. We are here to help you understand absorption and work towards your future. Would you like to begin?”
Lizzie stared at the woman, wondering why such a sense of calm came over them while Dr. Light spoke.
“I guess so. I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
“That’s fair,” Dr. Glow said, stepping a bit closer to Lizzie. “We’ll walk you through initial setup, and then we can go from there. First things first. Who would you like to speak with? Myself or Dr. Light?”
Lizzie looked from one to the other, not realizing a decision was required.
“I really don’t know. Do I have to make a choice?”
“Yes.”
“OK, then I choose Dr. Light.”
“Best of luck with your future, Lizzie,” Dr. Glow said, before he nodded at Dr. Light and walked off screen. The sound of a door clos
ing signified his exit, and Lizzie looked back to the smiling woman.
“Shall we begin?”
“How?”
“Well, let’s go back to the start.”
Back
Chapter Seven
“What is your earliest memory?”
Lizzie let their brain bring forth sights and sounds, smells and emotions.
Then, something settled into the forefront of them all.
“My earliest memory is me standing in a room but not. It’s as though I’m a ghost.”
“A ghost?”
A cold, uninviting room is all around young Lizzie, the walls bare and stark-white. A single window is on the wall to the left. Two steps and Lizzie is looking through the glass. The landscape is barren; light brown sand as far as the view spans. The sensation of centrifugal force makes Lizzie re-examine the floor. A stumble-step and outreached arms keep them upright, but the walls spin and then they are standing in the center of the room while an adult barks an order.
Collapsing, Lizzie tries to see the face, but the eyes look through the child, a ghost before an unbeliever.
“I’m right here,” Lizzie speaks, wanting the adult to acknowledge them, but more shouted words and angry mannerisms suggest that Lizzie has become translucent and imperceptible.
The window slides open, squeals, while unseen creatures caress the wind that drops the temperature in the already cold room and the adult stomps over and slams it shut. When they turn, they finally register Lizzie standing there.
“Where were you?”
“Right here.”
“Don’t lie.”
Before Lizzie can reply, the adult leaves the room, closing and locking the door behind them.
“Do you know who that adult was?” Dr. Light asked. When Lizzie looked, they found that Dr. Light was now sitting on a chair, left leg crossed over her right, notepad on her lap.
