by Amy Cross
"What if the universe isn't empty?" she asks. "What if there are eyes and ears everywhere, even on Io-5? What if the human race is just being allowed to think that there's no-one else around? I mean, we've been spreading out across the universe for centuries... Don't you think we should have encountered something by now?"
Staring at her, I can't help but wonder if she's trying to make some kind of point.
"Sutter dismissed all these ideas," she continues. "He had a closed mind, but I was different."
"They couldn't cover up something so big," I reply.
"Maybe that's what they want you to think," she adds, before leaning closer. "But what if there are aliens? What if they're everywhere? What if they can even see what you're doing right now?"
Instinctively, I turn and look back across the empty control room, but of course there's nothing to be seen. I force myself to remember that it's just me, Sutter and Deborah's ghost on this small metal sphere, orbiting a dead planet with no other human life nearby. Still, I think maybe Deborah has a point; I do feel as if there's something me from time to time, even out here. When I look at the vastness of space, sometimes I feel that all those stars are actually eyes, staring back at me.
"Are you going to finish this?" she asks after a moment.
I turn to her, and then I look down at Sutter's unconscious body. She's right. I can't afford to get distracted. Whether or not I'm being watched, I have to deal with him. There'll be time to worry about everything else later.
Chapter Seven
Sutter
"Hey!" I shout, struggling to get free from the rope that's been used to tie my arms and legs together. "Crizz! Talk to me!"
It's been a few minutes since I woke up, down here on the loading ramp of the main bay, and so far there's no sign of Crizz. Still, I know she's around somewhere, probably watching me on one of the monitors. When I try to sit up, I find that the rope is tied too tight, and it's clear that she didn't leave me in this position without having some kind of plan. Turning, I look at the bay door and realize that if the safety mechanisms have been disabled, I'm just one button-push away from being jettisoned.
"Crizz!" I shout again, trying not to panic. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Confess!" she shouts suddenly.
Realizing that she's in the control room, I feel a cold shiver pass through my body. I look around, but there's no way I can get back up the ladder with my arms and legs tied like this; even if I could, the airlock has been put in place over the hatch, and I imagine Crizz has changed the default override code.
"Confess to what?" I call out.
"You know!"
"No, I don't!"
I wait for her to reply, but all I hear is silence.
"Is this about Deborah?" I ask. "Do you seriously think I killed her?"
"Murder," she says firmly. "The word is murder."
"I didn't murder her," I reply, finally managing to sit up and lean against the bay door. "Crizz, you have to believe me. I can show you the footage. I told home-base that the camera wasn't recording, but it was. I just buried the footage deep in the system."
"Why would you do that?" she asks coldly.
"Because..." I pause for a moment as I realize that I've misjudged this entire situation. "You're right about one thing," I continue finally. "It wasn't an accident, but that doesn't mean I killed her."
"Then who did?" she asks. "Little green men?"
I shake my head.
"Then who?" she asks.
Closing my eyes for a moment, I see the image of her final moments in my mind's eye.
"She did," I say eventually.
Silence.
"She did it herself," I add, opening my eyes and looking up at the camera. I have no doubt that Crizz is watching me, and I figure my only chance of getting her to spare my life is to tell her the truth. It's not that I'm desperately clinging to life; it's more that without me, Crizz is going to be lost forever.
"You want me to believe it was suicide?" she asks after a moment.
"I want you to let me show you the footage," I reply, trying to stay calm. "Will you let me do that?"
"You're lying," she snaps.
"No. I swear to God, I'm not."
"I've spoken to her ghost," she continues. "She says you're lying."
"That's not a ghost," I tell her, "it's something from your mind. It's telling you things you want to hear, things from your subconscious. Deborah Martinez is not haunting this station."
"She told me you were sleeping with her," she replies.
"That's..." I pause, and for a moment I genuinely can't work out how the hell Crizz could have known something like that. Then again, I suppose it might just be a lucky guess.
"So," she continues, "I think you can see now that I have spoken to her ghost."
"No," I reply. "Crizz, I didn't kill Deborah, but you're about to kill me. Do you understand? This will be murder!"
I wait for her to say something.
"You're sick!" I shout finally. "I know you don't want to admit it, but you've got Hidden Eye Syndrome! I can help you, but you need to let me go! This vision of Deborah's ghost is just a manifestation of the illness!"
I wait again, but she still doesn't reply.
"Crizz!" I shout. "Are you still up there?"
"I'm still here," she says coldly.
"Here's what I want you to do," I continue. "I want you to bring up all the files from the main drive -"
"So you can lie to me?"
"So I can show you the video of Deborah's death."
Silence.
"Will you do that?" I ask.
"You've probably just altered the image," she replies. "You've had so long to work on it -"
"I'm not a murderer!" I shout, finally unable to hold my anger back. "Deborah Martinez committed suicide!"
"Why?"
I open my mouth to reply, but after a moment I realize that explaining the truth would probably just make things seem worse.
"Why?" she asks again.
"My jacket," I say, suddenly realizing that I might be able to break through her madness. "Crizz, my jacket is on the back of the chair in the control room. You can see it, can't you?"
"Of course I can see it," she replies.
"The pocket on the right-hand side," I continue. "There's a zipper. Open it and tell me what you find."
"You can't distract me," she says firmly. "Deborah warned me -"
"Just open it and look!" I shout. "What are you scared of?"
I wait for her to reply, but after almost a minute has passed I find myself starting to wonder what's happening up there. Turning, I look at the bay door and realize that it could open at any time, sending me spinning out into space.
"It's wood," Crizz says suddenly.
"Yes," I reply, turning to look up at the hatch. "It's carved wood. It's something that Deborah brought with her to the station when she was assigned. It was given to her by a friend, long ago. A very good friend." I wait, hoping that Crizz might finally realize the truth. "She carried it with her everywhere she went," I continue, realizing that I need to give her a few more prompts. "Her friend carved it when they were in prison together. When the friend was lost, Deborah swore she wouldn't ever let that piece of wood out of her possession until..."
I pause, hoping that I might have finally made her understand.
"Do you remember it?" I ask eventually.
Silence.
"Crizz?"
Silence.
"Don't be afraid," I continue. "If you think you can see and hear Deborah, it's because of your memories. They're breaking through. Some very powerful people tried to make you forget everything about your old life, everything about who you were and who you're meant to be, but I know you can remember. You're too strong, Crizz! They can't keep you down forever!"
Silence.
"Crizz!" I shout. "Talk to me!"
Chapter Eight
Crizz
Staring at the little wooden carvin
g, I realize that I've seen it before. I don't know where or when, but it's strangely familiar, and the weirdest part is that I think maybe I haven't just seen it...
I think I made it.
I have a strong memory of shaping this piece of wood, fashioning it from nothing more than a small piece of a broken branch, working on it for days, maybe weeks or even months, turning it slowly but surely into a representation of the human body. As I turn it over in my hand, I feel as if I can remember an emotion linked with the process, an emotion that doesn't really make sense but that nonetheless is flooding my mind.
Hope.
"We're going to get out of here one day," Deborah's voice says.
Turning, I realize that I can no longer see her, and this time her voice sounds different, as if it's coming from deep in my mind.
"I know it seems tough now," she continues, "but you have to keep hoping. Amanda, they want to break us. They think they can crush us beneath their boots and make us see things their way, but we're stronger than that. You know we are!"
"I don't," I whisper.
"They're going to scatter us," she says. "You, me, Josh, Nick, all of us... They'll send us to punishment camps, but they'll probably reserve you for special treatment. I've heard stories about their reconditioning programs. They think they can wipe entire personalities and replace them with new minds, minds that are more pliable and obedient. It's experimental, but they've already tried it on a few hundred victims. I think you'll be next."
Holding the carving up, I realize that there's a faint scratch on one side of its torso. I swear, I remember that scratch; I remember making it with the stone I was using to carve away the rest of the wood. The memory seems to be flitting around in the back of my mind, occasionally brushing my thoughts before disappearing into the shadows again; I pause for a moment, trying desperately to force myself to remember everything, but it's no good. Staring at the carving, I realize that part of my mind is locked.
"Look out the window," Deborah says suddenly, and this time her voice sounds louder. Turning, I see that she's standing right next to me. "Ignoring Sutter's attempts to trick you. He's slippery. I warned you, and now you need to stay strong. Put that thing down and go look out the window."
"But -"
"Put it down," she says firmly, "and go look out the window, Crizz."
With trembling hands, I put the piece of wood on top of a nearby monitor before making my way across the control room and looking out at Io-5 as it turns slowly in space, many miles beneath the station. It's a vast and beautiful sight, one that I've stared at many times over the past week, and I can't help but feel a faint shudder as I'm reminded of my absolute insignificance compared to the rest of creation. I'm a dot on the canvas; no, not even that... I'm a flicker of a fragment of dust that doesn't even register on the surface of a dot. I'm nothing.
"What do you see?" Deborah asks.
"A planet," I reply.
"What kind of planet?"
"A dead planet."
"Are you sure?"
"There's no life down there," I reply. "Please, I know there's no life -"
"But what if it's hidden?" she asks. "What if the universe is teeming with life? What if we just don't know how to find it? What if it's hiding from us? What if it's plotting to fight back? What if everything we thought we knew about the universe turns out to have been completely wrong? Is that really so hard to believe?"
I open my mouth to reply to her, but no words come out.
"What's the alternative? That in all the universe, complex life only evolved on one rocky little ball? That humans are the only intelligent species in existence?"
"We should have found them by now," I reply. "If there were other civilizations out here, we should have found them, or at least traces of them."
"Maybe they don't want to be found. Or maybe they're waiting for the right moment. The right person. A visionary..."
"Why?"
"Why not?" she replies. "Look properly, Crizz. Do you really see a dead world?"
I open my mouth to reply, but suddenly I realize that there's something moving down on the surface. I watch as some kind of dark patch seems to spread rapidly, and finally I spot cities springing up, forcing their way through the rocky surface; at the same time, huge objects are starting to lift up into the sky, and after a moment I realize that they're vessels of some kind. It's as if the entire planet is suddenly bursting into life, with cities and rivers and people appearing as if from nowhere. It's hard to believe that something like this could be happening, but I watch in stunned amazement as hundreds of strange, otherworldly vessels pass all around the station.
"You knew they were there, didn't you?" Deborah asks. "Life, Crizz. There's life down there, watching us. Millions of pairs of eyes, not only on Io-5 but also on other planets. The human race isn't alone in the universe. If only we were that lucky. There are whole alien civilizations out here, and the truth can't remain hidden for long. Hundreds, maybe thousands of different lifeforms are waiting for us, spread out across in every direction, waiting to exchange information and knowledge and technology. This is destiny, Crizz. This is the destiny of the entire human race, and it's coming to fruition in front of our eyes. Well, your eyes. I'm dead. But you, Crizz... You're the one they've chosen for their first message."
I watch as a large, dark ship passes close to the station. There are lights all over the side, and I swear I can see figures moving on the other side of the windows. As the ship moves even closer, I spot a face staring back at me; it's a strange, distorted face, definitely not human and unlike anything I've ever seen before, and after a moment it raises a hand, as if it's acknowledging me. I do the same, and then I watch as the vessel passes and then heads away. Turning back to look at the planet, I realize that I can see a huge alien civilization.
First contact.
I've made first contact.
"This is going to change everything," Deborah continues. "The human race is treated the universe like it's own private playground. Do you really think we can continue to mine planets, sucking up whatever we want? We're going to have to negotiate from now on, and we're going to have to accept that there are other species out here that might have their own ideas." She pauses. "What do you think?"
"It's beautiful," I reply, leaning closer to the glass and staring at one of the cities down on the surface of Io-5. It's huge and alien and familiar all at the same time, and there's a part of me that wants to run straight to the lander and head down to take a look; then again, I have no idea how these aliens would react if I just went barging into their home. I'm not scared, but I need to be cautious; this is the most important moment in the history of the human race, and I can't afford to mess it up.
"Crizz!" a voice shouts from deeper in the station.
Ignoring the voice, I continue to stare at the planet.
"Crizz!"
Turning, I realize that Sutter is calling me. I guess he must have seen all the alien ships passing the station, and I can't help but smile as I realize that he's finally being shown the truth. Turning back to look out at the vessels, I watch as one comes particularly close, and a long metal arm starts reaching out straight toward me. When it gets to within a few meters, I see that there's an alien creature standing behind a window at the end of the arm; he or she or it looks to be more or less humanoid, with light orange skin and a series of pronounced ridges running beneath its scaly skin. It stares at me with yellow, snakelike eyes, and finally it tilts its head a little, as if to try to get a better look at me.
"Say hello," Deborah whispers after a moment.
Holding my hand up, I wave.
After a moment, the alien waves back at me.
"Now that's first contact," Deborah continues. "You see? You were right, Crizz. Eyes, staring back at us from the vastness of space. They're everywhere, and this is only the beginning. Now that we've made contact with one race, all the others will come out of the woodwork. This is the beginning of a new dawn of galactic c
ooperation, and it's all thanks to you."
"They're alive," I whisper, maintaining eye contact with the alien creature. "They're alive and they're here!"
"I think they want to come aboard and say hello," Deborah says. "I don't know exactly how their ships are going to dock with the station, or whether they can even breathe our atmosphere, but it's worth a try." She pauses. "First, though, you're going to have to open the bay door."
Looking over at the control console, I realize she's right. The aliens are there, and they're going to want to come aboard. Barely able to move fast enough, I scramble over and reach for the button.
Chapter Nine
Sutter
The needle slides straight into her neck and her entire body jolts. She turns to me, shocked, and then she slumps against the console before slipping down to the floor.
Done.
Setting the syringe down on the console, I take a moment to pull the last of the ropes away from my wrists. If I hadn't managed to get up here in time, I have no doubt that Crizz would have opened the bay door and killed us both; she'd already managed to override the secondary hatch that usually serves as an airlock, and while I was getting free from the ropes a few minutes ago I could hear her jabbering away to herself, carrying on a conversation with someone who existed only in her mind.
Figuring that she'll be out cold for a while, I head over to the window and look out at the dead planet far beneath the station, and then at the vast empty void of space that surrounds us.
Aliens. Crizz was talking about aliens. She must have been hallucinating on a grand scale, which means that her Hidden Eye Syndrome has reached a new stage. I'm not sure I can save her.
Chapter Ten
Crizz
"A classic case," Sutter says, swiping to the next screen. "I'm sure you've read all the textbooks. Hidden Eye Syndrome can progress slowly or rapidly, depending upon the psychological state of the patient. The irony, which is good news in this case, is that rapid progression usually signifies a more temporary form of the condition." He turns to me. "We need to monitor you for a while, but I think you're essentially cured."
