by Sean Clark
Movement
Cecil is gently shaken awake. His body is achy and exhausted. He pushes himself up and the muscles in his shoulders resist with a dull pain.
“We’re going.” Agrippa announces. “Let’s get you back and freshened up to begin with. It will help you feel better.” Agrippa grabs Cecil under the shoulder. Cecil gets to his feet, gritting his teeth in indignation. He holds his tongue and goes along with the old man down the cold hallway and into the clunky lift. The door closes, and the machine lurches, jerking Cecil to attention. He pulls away from the hand that was still latched onto him.
“Sorry to be so abrupt. Someone is bringing over a rover to bring us back, and we can’t keep them waiting.” Agrippa apologizes.
Cecil doesn’t respond, slumped in the corner of the lift. The machine rumbles, arriving at the top, the door sliding open before them. With a little help from Agrippa and another worker, Cecil slips into the space suit. He hears the beeps of the airlock, ready to be opened, followed by the sound of the sealed door opening. Cecil quickly puts on the helmet.
The two move through the first set of doors and into the lock. The slow change in air pressure is enough to make Cecil feel dizzy. The second set of doors whoosh open and they step out. Cecil is guided to a seat on the rover that had been parked nearby.
The ride back is the same bumpy, stomach-churning trip as before, with Cecil clinging to the handholds. For a moment, Cecil is unsure if the radio silence was once again a result of them neglecting his suit. Cecil ponders for a bit before he begins to hear indistinct humming being produced from his suit speaker.
“Hey.” Cecil blurts out.
“Yeah?” Agrippa responds.
“Never mind. Just checking.”
Agrippa goes back to humming quietly. Shortly enough Cecil finds himself back in the large airlock of the main base being de-suited. “I’ve got to make some arrangements before we do anything. You go hit the showers, Cecil.” Agrippa directs him.
Cecil is lead into the dim hallways of the structure to the latrines. Without a word, the man guiding him throws a stack of clothes into his arms, clean coveralls and underwear, along with a towel. He begins to strip down silently.
The room is cold yet humid, and in the silence, comes the faint sound of dripping. Cecil skids his feet gently around the floor until his toes touch the outline of the floor drain. He reaches up and makes contact with the cold metal wall until he can find his way to the handle. Pressing the button sends a spray of frigid water onto his head and down his back. Barely having a chance to warm up, the water cuts out, leaving Cecil shivering in the middle of the stall.
Cecil searches the wall once again for the soap dispenser. Finding the spout, he hits the switch which deposits a small amount of the substance in his palm. The slick liquid begins to lather in his hands, and goes for his face and head, stopping in hesitation. He tenderly reaches for his scalp and starts to massage the shampoo into the fine hairs. In his rough, weathered palms, he feels the bristly hair that had just started to re-grow. His hairline is pockmarked with rough patches of scar tissue that stretch up from his forehead. He carefully traces his fingertips down his face to feel the tender skin stretched over his cheekbones. Parts of his temples, his eyelids, cheeks, and partway down his throat had suffered most of the damage it seemed. Cecil retracts his fingers in disgust.
The soap in his hair drips down to find its way to the corner of his eye. The stinging sensation knock him out of the haze. Cecil quickly punches the knob of the shower a couple of times, and the lukewarm water washes over him, sending beads of suds down his face and body. He halfheartedly scrubs himself. The water hits his face, causing him to wince at the burning feeling it provides.
The water cuts out after what seems like only a brief moment, leaving Cecil standing uncomfortably in the middle of the floor. The air in the room begins to feel like the cold metal under his feet. He finally pushes himself to move and grab the towel, strewn on the floor nearby. Goose bumps pop up over his exposed skin, and he hurries to finish the job.
Finally pulling on his underwear and coveralls, there is a knock on the door followed by the squeak of it opening up. “Good, you’re done.” Agrippa says hastily. “Come with me.”
Cecil grabs the old coveralls and boots, slipping out into the hall while beginning to chase after the sound of Agrippa’s loud footsteps. The metallic pounding of the old man’s feet suddenly stop and Cecil runs into his back.
“Sorry.” says Agrippa timidly. “I don’t want to do this, but I think it’s best for you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I just talked to Cassius. About… what you heard… what you thought you heard. He has agreed to allow you to go in for an examination… a psychological evaluation, rather.”
“A what?” Cecil says indignantly. His chest feels heavy. Agrippa grabs him by the shoulder and leans in close to him.
“Let me put it this way. If you really believe you’re all right, then you should have no issues go through with this.” Agrippa’s voice has an aura of fake comfort.
“Don’t just tell me what I want to hear.”
“Are you saying you don’t think you’re well?” Agrippa asks.
“There were things I heard last night… things it told me. It knew what was going through my head, Agrippa. It knows that I’m too afraid to come to a decision. It knows that soon I’m going to have make up my mind. It’s come to the point that I’ll have to choose for myself between staying here and going back to Earth.”
“Depending on what you say during this evaluation, it may not end up being your decision. In Cassius’s mind, you’re already on a fine line. You know, we can skip all of this crap right now if you decide that you are, indeed, not in your right mind.” Agrippa explains, his hands digging into Cecil’s shoulders.
“It’s too hard to say that, Agrippa.” Tears well in Cecil’s eyes. “Even if it is true, I wouldn’t be able to make that call on my own.”
“Let’s go in there then. Whoever it is probably just wants to ask you some questions. It should be fine… but you know what? If you want to keep some things secret too, just between you and me, I think we can do that. It would allow you time to come to the decision yourself.”
Cecil pushes Agrippa off. “Why are you so intent on me making this call?” His shouts echo through the hallway. “I don’t want this burden anymore.”
Agrippa shushes him. “You’re trying to rationalize having a conversation with someone… something that may or may not be there. It’s up to you to find out what’s real to you or not. You’ve got to trust yourself, your own senses. Perhaps this voice is coming from inside of you. It could tell you what you need to hear.”
Cecil stares off at a bright light down the hallway. “Shit, I don’t know if I can recognize reality or not anymore.” He says solemnly. “When it was just my mother’s voice, I could rationalize that it was just my grief creeping up on me. At one point, I realized I didn’t remember the sound of her voice… like you said, I kept drawing a blank. I went back last night hoping to maybe hear it again. I wanted to believe it was her. It spoke to me again, and I realized it wasn’t. Instead of crushing my hopes though… it wanted to me to confide in it. It’s like it knew me. It was tangible almost, uncanny. I had to push myself away from the feeling… but still I know it might be there.”
“If what you say is true, then I believe it’s your psyche trying to push all these shouldered emotions onto someone… something else. You don’t have to shoulder them on your own you know. You have people you can talk to. Me, Markus, everyone down there at the site, even Cassius or Aetius. Let yourself confide in us, rather than pushing the feelings aside. That whole project is going to succeed now in no small part from your involvement. I was woken up the other night to you writhing in your sleep. If it’s simply your bottled-up emotions that are making you act like this, then we can fix that right now.”
Cecil feels a small burning sensation on his che
ek. The corner of his eye produces a drop of moisture which he stealthily tries to wipe away. His legs collapse and he drops down, hitting his knees on the floor with a painful thud. Cecil sniffles and lets out a weak laugh.
“Hold on, kiddo. Don’t fall to piece son me just yet.” Agrippa grabs Cecil from under his arms and pulls him back to his feet.
“Sorry, I just…”
“I get it. Let’s get in there and do what we need to… okay?” Agrippa pushes him along slowly. They stop and Agrippa squeezes ahead to activate the button for the door. Cecil is lead to a chair in the middle of the cold, silent room. There is no other presence that he could sense.
“I guess they’re not here yet.” Agrippa notes. “I’m going to step outside for now, hold tight. In any case, I’ll make sure I get a word with them first.” The door slides closed after Agrippa exits.
Cecil sits silently. He shifts in the chair, and one of the feet squeaks softly against the floor. He can hear his heart beat and his breath, almost echoing in the empty room. Around him, the station creaks ever so slightly. There is an electrical hum somewhere in the distance. The sounds mix together in his ears in a cacophony. Suddenly, a commotion of voices pierces the veil, approaching quickly from the opposite side of the door. A few seconds later it slides open to Agrippa trying his best to talk someone down.
“Agrippa, I can’t make any promises, even if you think you know better.”
“Just listen to him at least.”
Vibrations
“I’m just stressed out.” Cecil explains defensively.
“Cut the bullshit.” The feminine voice is strangely crass sounding.
“Cecil, just hold on. Tulia, you need to take everything into consideration.” Agrippa begs.
“Cassius needs to know if Cecil is going to go or not. Our schedule is just about as tight as it can be, and this isn’t a decision to be left to the last moment. I don’t want to send him home if I don’t have to either… but if he exhibits that he is still having issues, I have no choice.” Tulia argued back at the old man.
“Just send me home then, if that’s how I’m thought of here.” Cecil admits.
“Don’t… say that.” Agrippa lashes out.
“I can tell you one thing at least… saying such a thing is a good sign of a clear conscious.” Tulia sighs sharply. “Let’s start over, Cecil. I want to hear about you, from your end, rather than what Agrippa here has told me. Start from when you had the accident.”
“I can’t tell you. All I remember is leaving to go scouting, and then the next moment I’m in a hospital bed.”
“Here. I want to let you in on what I know.” Tulia explains. “I was there, when you came in. They pulled me over because they were short on hands. I have a nursing degree you know, although I technically left that field because I didn’t care much for dealing with people. Oh, you were a dear though, lying there in a coma, all burnt up.”
“What are you getting at?” Cecil spat.
“I just feel plain bad for you, Cecil.”
“It doesn’t sound like it.” His agitation rises.
“I know you recently got news of your mother’s passing. It caused you to end up in the medical bay again. Recently Agrippa told me before you were hearing her voice?”
“I’m sorry Cecil, it slipped out. This was before last night.” Agrippa apologizes.
“It’s not her voice.” Cecil says without thinking, dismayed.
“Whose voice is it then?” Tulia asks forcefully.
“I don’t know how to describe it. It’s a voice worming its way into my head, reminding me of things I just want to forget.”
Tulia hums. Cecil can hear her foot tapping noisily against the hard floor, while Agrippa seems to be pacing around the chair. “I find it surprising that you were able to return down to Secundus so easily… I would assume you would be experiencing some post-traumatic stress.” Tulia questions him.
“I don’t feel that way about that place. Like I said, I barely remember what happened down there.” Cecil becomes more annoyed. He feels a big tablet shoved in his hands, his thumbs grazing the hard, cold surface of the touch screen as the backlight glares at him.
“I want you to take a look at this.” Tulia urges.
“You realize he can’t see anything, right?” Agrippa speaks up.
Without an apology, the tablet is snatched back from his hands. “It’s readings from our seismograph.” The woman explained snottily. “Before we established the base in Secundus, it was sitting in some dark corner. Shortly after, it was moved down there as a way to make sure we weren’t causing any instability in the terrain over there.”
“Yes, I remember when they assigned you to track the data from it. What of it?” Agrippa adds.
“I went back to a particularly large reading it recorded… at the time when your team went down there the first time.” Tulia announces.
Cecil bites at his lip nervously. “I remember.” Agrippa replies flatly.
“More recent readings suggest that the area is prone to such activity.”
“I’m aware of that too.” Agrippa announces. “I gave my report on the condition of the substrate there. It’s within safe limits, just as long as machinery is properly set up on top of shock absorption devices.”
“Ever since they started digging there, it’s been worse.” Tulia continues. “Nothing like you might see with fracking, but I can assume all the blasting and boring has shown up on the readings as well. However, there has been a jump ever since a few days ago.”
“So I hear.” Agrippa sounds confident. “Aetius told me they were beginning to saturate the ground with the CO2.”
“Last night was a particularly big shock… almost the same as the one that you fellows experienced. Did you happen to feel it down there?”
“Now that you mention it, when I was out near the pool, I noticed it had been disturbed… but it wasn’t like then.” Agrippa acknowledges.
“Was it speaking to you then, Cecil?” Tulia engages him again.
“How can you ask me that so casually?” Cecil raises his voice. “You want to write this off like some schizophrenic voice in my head. I don’t know what you expect to get from this… I can’t explain what I’m experiencing down here.”
“Up until the accident, you were a perfectly healthy sane individual ready to give your all for this place.” Tulia drones on. “Something about your accident has created bigger issues for you, outside of simple post-traumatic stress. At least, that’s one option. There is one other thing I’ve considered, though.”
“Go on.” Cecil waits.
“Let’s say that… it’s the planet… that’s talking to you.”
“Tulia, please don’t waste our time with these harebrained ideas.” Agrippa grumbles.
“Just listen.” Tulia insists. “Say those seismograph readings… rather, the vibrations, are some sort of attempt at communication. Cecil could be in tune with those, and be picking up on them somehow.”
“When I fell in…” Cecil says in awe. “But… how?”
“I’m no neurosurgeon, but I know a bit. Your brain waves operate on different frequencies depending on what state your brain is in. Let me ask you again… do you remember what was going through your mind when you made contact with the pool?”
“I wasn’t thinking anything I guess. I was just… drawn in by it.” Cecil explains.
“By the time we pulled him out, he was unconscious.” Agrippa steps in. “We got him breathing again, but we couldn’t get him to come to. That’s when we decided to rush him back, fearing he had some sort of head injury.”
“He had a small bump, if I remember correctly.” Tulia reminisces. “Not even a bruise. That’s why I want to rule out head trauma. Let’s suppose there is some force out there. If it were on the same… well, wavelength as Cecil, it could theoretically communicate with him.”
“Like alien life, you think?” Agrippa asks.
“The pool… being some sort of e
xtra-terrestrial.” Cecil says, talking to himself.
“Like I said, it’s just a hypothesis.” Tulia sighs. “Out here, there are too many unknowns. There would be no conceivable way to test such a thing, either. I could look over these seismograph readings for ages to try and determine if there’s a pattern, but it probably wouldn’t amount to anything. I have better things to do.”
“Is that all you have to tell us?” Agrippa stops her. “What do you make of Cecil’s condition? What are you going to tell Cassius?”
“Hmm... I doubt he could care to hear about any of this, let alone understand it. As far as I can tell, Cassius would rather have Cecil stay here rather than go. Besides, I would love to know more about this whole situation, if you all would be so kind as to keep me informed.” Tulia sounds pleased with herself. “However, keeping this on the down-low perhaps would be better, don’t you agree?”
Agrippa clicks his tongue like he wants to say something. Cecil feels uneasiness in his stomach. He wants to tell her off, but he holds his tongue.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’ Agrippa, I’m assuming you’ll be assigned to stay down there for the time being, no? Take down any information you think is relevant to the matter, and for god’s sake, make sure he keeps it together.”
“I’ll do it, but let me make it clear that I’m doing this for Cecil and not for some demented quest for knowledge.” Agrippa walks to Cecil and places his hand on Cecil’s shoulder.
“Suit yourself.” Says Tulia, her obnoxious footsteps trailing out of the room. The sound of the door closing marks her exit.
Agrippa grips Cecil’s shoulder, his fingers digging into the flesh. “I’m sorry Cecil. I’m sorry about all this. I’m sorry about doubting you. I’m certainly sorry about getting her involved in this too. Tulia is the last person who should have met with you.”
“You were just trying to be responsible.” Cecil mutters.
“I guess. We should grab some food while we can.” Agrippa changes the subject. “We’ll be able to think this over much better when we’re clear headed.”
