Author : Richard “Zig” Zagorski
Sloosh, slosh … Sloosh, slosh …
Another hour had passed … one of how many Gerald could no longer tell. He’d lost count long ago, or at least he thought it was long ago; time was meaningless here. Each hour melted into the next, and a human can only count so high. He wasn’t even sure if he slept at all or if he was constantly aware of the marking of each hour’s passage.
In the pre-voyage information session, all of the passengers making the long trip to the new colony were briefed on how the slumber pods functioned. Each person would climb into his or her assigned pod, which would then be sealed. A sleeping gas would permeate the enclosure. After the inhabitant was asleep, the pod would fill with viscous stasis fluid, which would be refreshed every hour. The passengers would spend the 200-year voyage asleep and unaware of the passage of time, to be revived once the ship arrived in orbit around the second planet of the Morgan system. Their new home.
Sloosh, slosh … Sloosh, slosh …
One more hour had passed.
For whatever reason, Gerald was not asleep and unaware in stasis – not completely anyway. The only sense that functioned was his hearing. He felt nothing against his skin, he saw nothing …he wasn’t even sure if his eyes were open. And with his nasal passages filled with stasis fluid, he smelled nothing at all. But he could hear the slushing of the stasis fluid being refreshed periodically, as it would do each passing hour of the 200-year voyage.
How many hours, how many days had passed … there was no way to know.
Sloosh, slosh … Sloosh, slosh …
Another hour …
Were any of the other colonists awake and aware? Or was he the only one?
Why was he awake? He’d never heard any reports of malfunctioning stasis pods.
It was horrifying.
Time just stretched great distances, both forward and back.
With the lack of external stimuli, his mind had drifted into fantasy … every fantasy life he’d ever thought up, he re-created. When he ran out of material for that, he relived his entire life in his mind … and relived it again … and again … and again …
Now he had nothing to focus his mind upon. Just noting the passing of each hour, but unsure how many still lie ahead of him.
Once the ship got to the new colony, who would he be? Would any of himself still exist after two centuries of complete solitude and sensory deprivation? Would he be sane? Would he be able to recognize the difference? Would he care?
Sloosh, slosh … Sloosh, slosh …
Another hour …
Sloosh, slosh … Sloosh, slosh …
Another …
Sloosh, slosh … Sloosh, slosh …
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