Video Log
David James
Year 11, Day 97
Last night was another interesting night. I have had that dream again, and yet again I woke up, fully dressed in my pressure suit outside the dome; I found myself on the hill overlooking the dome. The odd thing is that I continue to find myself waking up in this spot. I have not found rest in my nightly attempt at sleep, despite the sedative that I have been taking.
I am concerned that the things that I have started to see are a result of my own sleep deprivation. As concerning as that is, it pales in comparison to the prospect that they might just be real. I have not spoken with any of the other members of the crew, the last thing I need to impede the mission here with the focus on my own problems.
I am still coping outwardly, and when the others ask why I am outside each morning I simply respond by telling them that I enjoy watching the sunrise unimpeded by the glass dome.
Today we are venturing out on the rig to search for mineral deposits down one of the local volcanic tubes. We shall see how fruitful this day proves to be despite my fatigue and unrest.
–End Entry–
Cardiff: So, what do we think about that?
Mendez: They may have started to suffer from psychosis. Sleep deprivation is a problem that I can see plaguing our own team.
Cardiff: So, when you talk about psychosis, what exactly are we talking about?
Mendez: It is possible that a lack of sleep could be responsible for the difficult time that they seem to have differentiating what is real from fantasy or delusion. It is sort of like a day-dream that you can’t wake up from. The real question here is, why aren’t they able to get the sleep that they need, even with medication?
One thing is certain, once one suffers from any sort of psychotic break and can no longer distinguish reality from fantasy and delusion, it is difficult to reverse. The mind is an impressive thing and can do almost anything, but once it is broken it is no small task to return it to a measure of sanity.
Cardiff: So, what do you think happened to Long on the first night here? Has he suffered a psychotic break?
Mendez: I can’t tell without interviewing him in depth. He might be totally fine, and is just adjusting to the new stress of living on Mars. We ought to keep a careful eye on him and take care not to cause him undue stress. If he is suffering from delusions, then our actions might only propel him further into it. We need to find a way to speak with him casually so that he does not believe that we are overly concerned about him. In this way we can get a better impression about his mental state, if he thinks that we are “on to him” then he will do anything he can to behave normally. He will repress anything that he believes will give us cause for concern… we really don’t want that.
Cardiff: Alright, but how about the others?
Mendez: As for the others, I believe that Lawrence will be able to cope well with this environment and the added stresses simply because of his ability to show some humor in an otherwise bleak situation. This shows that he is likely more “hardy” under pressure, so for now I will just keep a passive eye on him.
Doctor Ghent is confident and experienced, he hasn’t given me much indication about his mental hardiness, although I would say that he is exceptionally acute here in this environment, he appears very vigilant and observant as well. In fact, he almost appears to be enjoying…
A flash of light, emitted from the main screen, interrupts Doctor Mendez midsentence. The image on the screen begins to rewind from the ending frame. Cardiff looks down at her hands, and at Mendez’s; no hands are even close to the control pane. Without warning, the message begins to play from the middle of the video log. The figure in the video begins to move in the sequence, yet the words that he is saying do not appear to be coming out of his mouth, just as a poorly voiced over movie would look.
“Ad fidens vida, ad metus vex”, the video rewinds a few seconds and plays the same exact audio clip over again. After the third time, the video sequence pauses, and the face on the screen is paused as it looks out at those sitting dumbfounded in their chairs. Cardiff cocks her head slightly as she squints her eyes; her eyes seem to meet the eyes looking back at her through the screen. Mendez looks over at Cardiff, and her puzzled expression seems to mirror that of Cardiff’s as she looks back. The same bright flash of light signals the end of the anomaly that has sent the two deep into thought.
Outside the control room the plaza is quiet and tranquil. Doctor Ghent has finished collecting the rest of the samples, and his khaki canvas bag is filled with glass vials. He walks up toward the laboratory building. This time, upon entering he notices the light outside the door to the laboratory; the light has been shattered and the wall it is mounted on has a prominent crack running several centimeters down the wall from the light. The only thought currently in Ghent’s mind is a simple one: “What could cause such damage, and why?”
As Ghent continues through the entryway into the lab, he grabs a white coat hanging up on the wall, and swings it around his back to put it on. The remaining lights power on as he continues to step into the laboratory. The lab is properly setup for such an endeavor as he is currently set upon. The walls, ceiling, counters and even the floor are all back-lit by lights, providing a clean-looking and well-lit study area.
The lab reminds Ghent of the mess hall, minus the casual setting and the windows. The ceiling is made of frosted glass, meant to diffuse the intense lighting projected through it by the well-placed array of lighting arranged above it. The walls are also made of frosted glass, but are adorned with several blue glass control panels meant to provide an adaptive interface with the equipment lined up along the benches that surround the room. The only portal to the unrefined world outside is the heavy door at the end of the room, which he had entered through.
Lights arranged underneath the counters shine brightly down upon the floor, lending the floor the appearance of being back-lit, just like the ceiling and the walls. The room is filled with a variety of computer controlled instruments. This building certainly must have cost the company as much as it must have spent on all of the other buildings combined. Ghent studies the different machines as he walks through the room, most of them he has used at the university laboratory, some he has never seen before.
With samples in hand, Ghent drops one into the microscope. Putting his eye to the lens, Ghent looks first at the sample of algae that he had collected from the pond. Everything appears to be normal at first observation. What strikes Ghent as odd, though, is the rate at which the algae are reproducing under the intense light in the microscope. With a simple voice command, Ghent initiates a new audio entry into the computer.
Ghent: First analysis of the algae from the pond shows an abnormally high rate of reproduction of algae cells. I will setup a series of tests to isolate the catalytic component at work here.
The sample in the vial appears to be changing color. It was clearly a deep green color, now it seems to be changing to brown right before my eyes.
I am taking a closer look underneath the microscope to see if the sample in the microscope is also changing color.
Upon examination of the specimen in the microscope, Ghent notices that it too, is changing color. Ghent stands hunched over, staring into the microscope, taking photographs for the file. The vial upon the table begins to wobble, until it finally tips over. The containment lid on the vial slips off. The algae and water mixture spill out of the vial. The spilt liquid now begins to run toward the side of the table where Ghent now stands hunched over, completely unaware of the spilled water. Ghent moves the sample slightly with his right hand, and returns his hand to its resting place on the table.
He stands up straight, and looks at the palm of his hand with great interest. The sensation of liquid on his hand completely took Ghent by surprise. After a moment of the cool sensation, the liquid begins to burn his skin. He immediately turns to the sink. With an intensity that he has not experienced in recent years, Ghent scrubs the liqui
d off of his hand. Soap is added twice during the wash to cleanse his hand of the invasive water mixture. “Ouch!”, his hands are red and swollen from the vigorous washing.
Ghent grabs the heavy gloves from under the table and puts them on to prevent any further contact with the liquid on his skin. Ghent is truly baffled, amazed and disgusted, all at the same time, about the discovery he has just made about the algae. He resumes the audio log.
Ghent: After the algae pigmentation changed, I accidentally touched some of it with my bare hand. The algae must have some toxin producing capabilities, unique to this strain here on Mars. According to the log from the first mission, the algae were 100 percent introduced and none of it was native in the rock or ice. What has caused this rapid mutation over the course of just a few years intrigues me and beguiles me all at once. The color of the spilled liquid now seems to be changing once again; it is returning to the natural-looking color that it had when I brought it into the room moments ago.
I am rechecking the sample in the microscope to see if it too has reverted back to the original pigmentation.
Ghent once again peers over the microscope and begins photographing the changing pigmentation. Behind him, the door becomes ajar, quietly at first and then the hinges give up their stealthy movement. The creaking of the door causes his heart to race, and his head to remain absolutely motionless, as if to blend into the background if there were something at the door.
He draws in a quick breath, his pupils dilate and his heart resonates in his ears. The vial in his other hand is suddenly freed from his grip, and embarks on its treacherous journey that ends with a shattering upon the floor.
The heavy door slams shut with an ear piercing thud that Ghent can feel in his ribcage. Ghent is still drawing himself back and away from the microscope, turning his head toward the door as if nothing else mattered in that millisecond. Ghent can see that the light inside the entry way now flickers as if it were damaged. The hairs on the back of his neck begin to stand on end, and chills set in upon his skin. An unfamiliar voice sounds plainly behind him, sounding as if someone were speaking directly into his ear. The feeling of a warm breath on the back of his neck paralyzes his every muscle.
Voice: Upon the date of forty-three this world again is free; the sun to light your day will regress and shrink away. A fury felt remains unseen, it once again this world will clean. One can run yet not hide, salvation lies inside. Safety lies only deeper into the void.
As quickly as it had come, it had also ceased. Ghent remains completely motionless in his voluntary paralysis; the prospect of what he might find behind him in the back of the room is crippling. After several quiet moments, Ghent slowly turns around; his heart is still pounding in his throat. There is no one, nor anything behind him that was not there when he entered the room. A stark white room is all that lay before him. Ghent issues a voice command to have the computer repeat his audio log.
The computer complies with the voice command and begins to repeat his vocal transcript back to him. The audio file ends with a crash of glass upon the floor. His fingers and toes are icy cold and his vision somewhat blurred from the unverifiable discourse. Ghent turns to reach for the nearest control panel on the wall in an attempt to recall other video and infra-red heat signatures that are constantly monitored. The control panel closest to him flickers and the steam of breath begins to form on the glass surface. A simple hand-print becomes readily visible as it seems to be free from water vapor condensation on the glass.
Ghent: Fantastic! Now I have gone mad. I hope no one is around to have seen this episode. Better to not tell any other soul about this incident. That’s right; I will pretend it never happened.
Inside his mind the words spoken into his ear begin to play again, drowning out the internal mental discourse of his other thoughts. He places his right hand firmly upon the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes; focus does not reward him with the intended result: clarity of thought.
Chapter 8
Lawrence drags four oxygen canisters into the airlock; the loop built into the top of the canisters allows him to wrap his gloved fingers through them, this way he is able to hold more than one at a time. He sets them carefully on the ground in the small portal, he walks back over to the atmosphere processor, which fills the empty oxygen canisters and is located within a few meters of the airlock for convenience. He picks his helmet up off of the large aluminum machine as he walks back toward the airlock; he twists the helmet securely onto his suit.
Long trudges along the pathway in his pressure suit, his helmet is in his left hand and his heavy canvas bags are in his right. Lawrence stands in the airlock doorway, awaiting Long’s arrival as he slowly makes his way down the path toward him.
Lawrence: Come on princess! The day isn’t getting any younger you know. Don’t want you turning into a pumpkin on me; the captain would be upset with me.
Long finally joins Lawrence in the airlock, and Lawrence presses the control panel inside the airlock. The door starts to close behind them, Long hurriedly drops his canvas bags and twists his helmet on. If he had waited a few more moments, then the air rushing out of the airlock would have killed him.
Long: Thanks for waiting for me there, chief.
Lawrence: Yeah, no problem. You know, I don’t say this very much, but you look terrible. I mean it; you look like someone dragged you out of bed and beat the snot right out of you this morning.
Long: That is very kind of you, thanks for noticing.
Lawrence: Word to the wise: when hunting elephants, bring a big gun.
Long: Okay. Next time I hunt an elephant I will be sure to do that. I thought I was losing my mind, but you are making absolutely no sense at all.
Lawrence: Just a word to the wise, that’s all. I guess if you aren’t wise, it won’t make any sense.
Long: Tell you what, before you try selling me some invisible clothes, I am just going to mute you. Sound good? Yeah, thought so.
Long reaches up to his wrist, and opens the computer control panel on his suit. He touches a couple of points on the smooth glass panel, and he picks his bags back up again. Lawrence grabs the oxygen, and follows Long out of the airlock as he starts walking toward the heavy rig, which also happens to be the only rig.
Lawrence loads his oxygen cylinders on the back of the weathered rig. He stops just after loading the third canister on the back; the quick movement of the thin air around attracts his attention. Small swirling vortexes of sand roam in their fury out on the plain below. Lawrence squints to get a closer look at one of them as it traverses the empty plain. Within it appears to be a raging blaze, smoke and ash look like they are pouring out of the top of the dust devil. “What?”, he hurriedly throws the last canister onto the back of the rig before running alongside it up to the seating area. “Hey Long!”, Lawrence realizes that Long has just muted him on the radio, so he climbs up into the rig and grabs Long’s arm as he sits quietly.
Long turns to look at Lawrence, Lawrence points out into the distance, where he had seen the oddity; Long looks on and shrugs his shoulders. Long takes a moment to unmute Lawrence, and replies quite calmly, “Cool, we have those back home you know.” Lawrence turns to look at the dust devil that he had just pointed at; nothing out of the ordinary appears out on the horizon.
“Of course!”, Lawrence finishes crawling into the driver’s seat and presses the “on” button on the control panel.
The rig once again pulls away from the dome and begins to roll down the road. Countless rocks seem to float in an endless sea of rust-colored sand as far as the eye can see. The sun rises higher into the sky, shrinking the shadows that these rocks cast. After several silent hours of driving, Lawrence and Long finally arrive at the site that they have been tasked with sampling.
Lawrence: Long, you don’t look very good at all; are you sure that you are alright?
Long: For the last time Lawrence; I am just fine, just a little bit tired, that’s all.
Lawrence: Well, here w
e are. Better go ahead and radio back to base that we have made it to the site without any problems. Why don’t you go ahead and get your gear out and carry what you need over to the opening of the tube. I will meet you there in a moment after I check in and secure the rig.
Long: Right… so no one steals it while we are in there… okay.
Lawrence: Stranger things have happened.
Long: Of course they have. See you in a minute or so.
Lawrence completes his check in with Captain Cardiff and double checks the brake as the large rig is parked on a slope. It would take quite some time to fix the rig, or even longer to get a replacement if the rig drifted downhill and fell off of, or into something.
Deeper Into the Void Page 8
