halo around its equator. It performed the same second-long appearance as its gaseous brother, Jupiter. The music echoed like the memory of a dream dancing just past consciousness.
Another hour or so, and he had the sense that he was crossing the orbit of Uranus, though the smaller gas giant was nowhere to be seen. The song played on.
Ninety minutes later, he was certain he was in the path of the smallest of the gas giants, Neptune, and his course abruptly veered twenty degrees above the ecliptic. A little over an hour later, and more than five hours after Macklin’s Rock initially reacted, Pluto and its cousin, Charon, burst into view like a giant net, catching him between their orbits. The song took a change in timbre and tone. It was the denouement of the symphony.
Now, the images and song had disappeared, but he had the lingering impression of two small planets on either side of him.
The entire thought-flash was more like a dream than reality, but now, every time he closed his eyes, he was certain that he could see beyond the bounds of the security receptacle, beyond the TAHU, and beyond the asteroid.
For some unexplainable reason, he was over five billion kilometers away from the sun.
Panic set in, and he concentrated on keeping his eyes opened. The blink came on suddenly, and he could sense something approaching Macklin’s Rock.
It was a space ship. A different song told him so.
He must be delusional. His mind was playing tricks on him. Pluto was nowhere near where he was—which was the asteroid belt, of course. Wasn’t it? And the ship coming toward him was obviously the rescue pod, for, what ship would be out so far from Earth? The only mission Alex had heard of was the Orcus 1 .
He remembered reading a podcast. There was a mission currently on Pluto.
Mentally shaking his head, since he could not do so physically, he decided he was just imaging things. Most likely, Macklin’s Rock had suffered a collision with another asteroid and the resulting impact and subsequent lack of oxygen was making Alex delusional.
A loud, echoing noise filtered through the TAHU, and after a moment, Alex identified it as a fission laser cutting through the top face of the TAHU. The rescue mission from the Orbiter.
Someone was going to save him.
Salivating, trying to moisten his dry throat, Alex called out, “I’m in here!” as soon as he heard the laser cease to cut, and the grinding sounds of polymer ripping as the rescuers opened the TAHU.
It was then that Alex realized that once all the air escaped the TAHU, sounds could not travel in the emptiness of space. The security receptacle itself served as a soundproof encasement. Without a digital septaphonic booster, the rescuers would not know where he was until they stumbled upon him.
Alex closed his eyes…
…and could see in his mind’s eye the suitshielded figures of two people drifting down through the opening of the TAHU to the floor of the main room, the soft beams of their palmlights traveling over the confines of the room, searching for survivors. The song was back in his head, dim, as if he had turned down the volume. His internal vision extended just a few dozen meters outside his security receptacle, rather than millions of kilometers.
Panicked because of the images he should not be able to see, he forced his eyes open. A blink brought him a flashing image, quickly fading, of things he should not see. It was like a radar blip. He grunted in surprise at the image. Four more blinks produced the same effect.
With repetition, he became more used to the unusual perception, even though his heart raced with the implications. He did not think he could ever get used to the song, however. It was like the babble of a hundred people speaking foreign languages, and there was an imperative message hidden behind the unearthly lyrics.
The next time he blinked, he consciously tried to expand the range of his mental perception. He found that he saw not only the figures
Another hour or so, and he had the sense that he was crossing the orbit of Uranus, though the smaller gas giant was nowhere to be seen. The song played on.
Ninety minutes later, he was certain he was in the path of the smallest of the gas giants, Neptune, and his course abruptly veered twenty degrees above the ecliptic. A little over an hour later, and more than five hours after Macklin’s Rock initially reacted, Pluto and its cousin, Charon, burst into view like a giant net, catching him between their orbits. The song took a change in timbre and tone. It was the denouement of the symphony.
Now, the images and song had disappeared, but he had the lingering impression of two small planets on either side of him.
The entire thought-flash was more like a dream than reality, but now, every time he closed his eyes, he was certain that he could see beyond the bounds of the security receptacle, beyond the TAHU, and beyond the asteroid.
For some unexplainable reason, he was over five billion kilometers away from the sun.
Panic set in, and he concentrated on keeping his eyes opened. The blink came on suddenly, and he could sense something approaching Macklin’s Rock.
It was a space ship. A different song told him so.
He must be delusional. His mind was playing tricks on him. Pluto was nowhere near where he was—which was the asteroid belt, of course. Wasn’t it? And the ship coming toward him was obviously the rescue pod, for, what ship would be out so far from Earth? The only mission Alex had heard of was the Orcus 1 .
He remembered reading a podcast. There was a mission currently on Pluto.
Mentally shaking his head, since he could not do so physically, he decided he was just imaging things. Most likely, Macklin’s Rock had suffered a collision with another asteroid and the resulting impact and subsequent lack of oxygen was making Alex delusional.
A loud, echoing noise filtered through the TAHU, and after a moment, Alex identified it as a fission laser cutting through the top face of the TAHU. The rescue mission from the Orbiter.
Someone was going to save him.
Salivating, trying to moisten his dry throat, Alex called out, “I’m in here!” as soon as he heard the laser cease to cut, and the grinding sounds of polymer ripping as the rescuers opened the TAHU.
It was then that Alex realized that once all the air escaped the TAHU, sounds could not travel in the emptiness of space. The security receptacle itself served as a soundproof encasement. Without a digital septaphonic booster, the rescuers would not know where he was until they stumbled upon him.
Alex closed his eyes…
…and could see in his mind’s eye the suitshielded figures of two people drifting down through the opening of the TAHU to the floor of the main room, the soft beams of their palmlights traveling over the confines of the room, searching for survivors. The song was back in his head, dim, as if he had turned down the volume. His internal vision extended just a few dozen meters outside his security receptacle, rather than millions of kilometers.
Panicked because of the images he should not be able to see, he forced his eyes open. A blink brought him a flashing image, quickly fading, of things he should not see. It was like a radar blip. He grunted in surprise at the image. Four more blinks produced the same effect.
With repetition, he became more used to the unusual perception, even though his heart raced with the implications. He did not think he could ever get used to the song, however. It was like the babble of a hundred people speaking foreign languages, and there was an imperative message hidden behind the unearthly lyrics.
The next time he blinked, he consciously tried to expand the range of his mental perception. He found that he saw not only the figures
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