A Step Beyond by Christopher K Anderson Page B

Nelson asked.
    “There was a streak of light that just flashed across the room.”
    “Where?” Nelson asked, searching back and forth.
    “Right there. In the center. Right there,” Carter said, and pointed emphatically at the center of the shelter.
    Endicott held up his hand to stop the conversation.
    “That was radiation striking your retina,” he said wearily. Carter stood up and walked over to area where he saw the flash. Crouching down on his knees, he waved his hand cautiously through the air. He hesitated. He touched his eye, and then his chin, and then his eye again. He swiveled around slowly
    until he was facing the other astronauts, his left hand rubbing his eyes. With his free hand he reached into his pocket and pulled out another piece of gum. He added the gum to the growing collection in his mouth. He chewed for nearly a minute while he pondered the situation.
    “You’re shittin’ me,” he said.
    “I assure you, it is a common phenomenon,” Endicott replied, slightly annoyed that the American would doubt him.
    “Will it damage my eye?” Carter said with a halfhearted laugh.
    “Only time will tell.”
    “Carter,” Nelson said, “get back against the wall. Under the circumstances, we must observe every precaution.”
    Nelson’s commanding tone had a sobering effect on Carter. He obeyed immediately, pushing himself away from where he thought he had seen the flash of light. He returned to his designated position and placed his back against the shelter wall, where the muscles in his back provided protection to his internal organs. He turned his undivided attention to the rems displayed on the console above him.
    The next fifteen minutes passed in silence. The room filled with a stillness that settled into dark puddles around the astronauts. Their thoughts focused upon the rem counter, which rippled orange against its black display. There were four names on the display, and under each name was a number. Every few minutes one of the four numbers would increase. And as it increased, each astronaut wondered what subtle changes had taken place in the cells of the body through which the ionized particles had just passed. They knew that many of the cells would die. And that others would be damaged. That some could grow several hundred times their normal size, while others could multiply uncontrollably and form cancerous growths. Some could mutate. Their chromosomes could break apart and fuse into genetically unsound structures, the effect of which would not be known until their children were born. They knew that many of the injured cells would release toxic substances into their bodies. Nausea, fits of vomiting, and diarrhea could result from the sudden influx of toxins. They knew that after several days their white blood cells could reduce drastically in number and that their immune system could collapse. Or that their blood could fail to clot and they could bleed to death from a paper slice. They knew that internal organs, such as the liver, could begin to function abnormally, setting off a series of near-fatal complications. And they knew if their exposure was high enough they would die.
    All of this could happen, and yet the radiation passed through their bodies without sensation. There was no physical discomfort. No piercing pain. No pins or needles. No hotness. No coldness. Not even the slightest of prickles. They felt nothing.
    Commander Nelson emerged from the silence with a fabricated smile. It was his duty to maintain the spirits of his men, and it was not until he had caught Endicott’s dejected look that he realized there was a need to do so.
    “Congratulations are in order,” he began. “Carl, you conducted yourself admirably. I will see that you receive due recognition for your actions.”
    “Well, thank you, but I really don’t . . .”
    “Nonsense, what you did back there was heroic. Most men would have fallen apart under the pressure.”
    “Sometimes one, willingly or not, has