Author: R. J. Erbacher

Admiring what lay outside the glass, the vastness of space overwhelmed him. The window on the spacious observation deck was a circular aluminosilicate pane, a meter in circumference, the handles on both sides allowed him to effortlessly hold his prone body suspended in the zero-gravity environment. He didn’t like to come in here because of the smell but the view was amazing. The panorama was a plethora of stars, like twinkling glitter dust sprinkled onto a black blanket, with a resplendent orb, center point. He put his hand onto the glass as if he could touch the surface of the planet just beyond, which was… he couldn’t recall the name. It wasn’t earth, the color was different; not the blue with swirling white he barely remembered. Not Mars either, that was long gone too. This was more of a dusty beige with two huge impact craters, like a pair of cartoon eyes staring back at him. He chuffed at the image. Ah, well. All things considered; it didn’t matter which planet or moon it was.

He supposed it was the long stretch of loneliness that did this to him. Messed with his realization. Caused his head to twinge with pain, tilt off its axis just a little bit. The view wasn’t helping either, reminding him of the great emptiness that surrounded him. How big everything else was and how small he was. And how alone. Another orb floated into his view, red and gelatinous. This one he could reach out and touch, the tip of his finger coming back with a dark stain. He wiped it on his flight suit. If he just had someone to talk to it might keep his head… level.

The ship’s onboard computer spoke, snapping him out of the malaise that enveloped him. This was not who he wanted to be talking to. Not at all. The annoying voice actually made his head hurt worse. He wasn’t really listening either; something about an urgent aspect of the guidance that needed his attention. So many minutes left to make a correction or some such. He did not respond. Gazing at the nothingness on the other side of the glass, he yearned to be out there, swimming through the great void in his attempt to fly. How delightful a dream would that be, drifting and twirling through space, like a majestic eagle, the wind under his wings. As a young boy he remembered that you could make dream-wishes come true by blowing on a dandelion, but as he looked at the expanding terrain in the window, no green vegetation appeared to be down there, anywhere. A-shame. Again, the monotone speaker chirped with its warning. He barked back at the computer that he was on his way. One last, longing look at the view and he launched off the wall spinning his weightless body in the direction of the door, pushing the floating corpses out of his way as he glided towards the command deck.