Gone – is a serial short story that will be released here over the next several weeks. I hope you enjoy it. Feel free to follow my blog in order to get the latest. - Peter-John Campbell
If you would haven't read chapter 3 feel free to click here.
Jackson sat silently for some time thinking. Staring out on the world that lay below, he watched the never-ending tumult of gray and black stirring from pole to pole. “Nuclear winter?” he said to himself. “This doesn't make any sense. I was only gone one day, how could this have happened so fast?”
“I do not understand the question, please ask it another way.” Ethel replied.
Jackson turned back to his screens. “Ethel, bring up our flight path.”
“Confirm.” The screen shifted, showing the flight path of the Sphinx. Jackson studied the chart, thinking, calculating, when it finally hit him: When are we?
Solemn, Jackson looked up. “Ethel, when were these files recorded?”
“The internal clock in the satellite indicates 156 days ago.” Jackson gasped at the revelation. Ethel continued. “According to the satellite the current date is Tuesday, December 16.”
Jackson sat back, shaken. “Twin Paradox,” he whispered to himself.
“Twin Paradox. Special Relativity.” Jackson began speaking very quickly. “Ethel, is this even possible? Can it be? It's just a theory. No one ever believed it would be possible. Have we really jumped through time?”
“Given the current data, it appears so, sir.”
Jackson looked out on the Earth. “I don't believe it.” Roiling below, the clouds constricted upon the planet like a snake, gnawing and squeezing whatever faint sense of life that was left from the sphere.
The Sphinx circled once more and slipped beyond the light of the Sun. In darkness it sailed quietly, waiting for the bright rays to reappear once again. The distant starlight was stunningly present in the darkness. The lights that once shone below were snuffed out on the Earth's dark side, now nothing more than an un-seeable black void in space. Jackson was far too engrossed in thought to view the strange horizon, where the eerie blackness of the Earth gave way to a glittering field of space beyond.
Jackson clicked away on the keypad. On the short-range scanner monitor, the 3D model of the Earth slowly tracked with the speed of the Sphinx. Then with a click of the enter key, thousands of little dots began to appear, each representing an object orbiting the Earth.
“Ethel, let's start scanning for any active signal from the other satellites. If we were able to connect with this one, maybe we can with some others as well.”
“Confirm. Scanning now.” As Ethel scanned through the thousands of little yellow dots on the screen, each dot would turn green momentary. If Ethel could identify the object the dot remained green, and if the beacon signal was still active an identifier displayed on the screen next to the object. Jackson began searching through the identified satellites, looking for anything that might help him.
“Sir, I think I found something.”
“30 degrees off our starboard Quarter, I have picked up a signal from the International Space Station.”
“Confirm.” The green dot on the 3D model turned red and then the screen zoomed in and displayed the estimated path of the I.S.S.
“Alright, Ethel, chart a path.”
The screen zoomed out slightly showing the relation of the Sphinx to the I.S.S. A red line traced across the screen from one point to the other. “The International Space Station is approximately ten kilometers above our orbit and moving at a speed of 7.71 kilometers a second. If we were to increase our current speed by 3%, we should catch up with it in ten minutes.”
Jackson turned back to the ships controls; with subtle moves he turned the joystick. Little blue flames ignited outside, turning the ship up ten degrees. Then with the press of a button the main engines fired thrusting the ship upward. In the distance the I.S.S. approached; a small glint of light flicked as it reflected the sun.
“I.S.S. This is the Sphinx, do you copy?” Jackson called out over the com. The I.S.S. did not respond.
“This is the Sphinx, calling the International Space Station. Do you copy?”
The light of the sun once again began to beam into the cockpit. Jackson looked up and saw the yellow star round the curve of the Earth. Suddenly, a large object passed by dangerously close, momentarily blocking Jackson's view. Several alarms sounded. “Warning, possible impact!” Ethel announced.
Jackson flipped a switch to turn the alarm off. “What was that?!”
Outside the window the strange object slowly rotated, revealing itself to be a large solar panel; it appeared as if it had broken off of a large satellite. The alarm sounded again and Ethel once again announced, “Warning possible impact!” Jackson looked down at the short-range scanner and could see a large cluster of unmarked objects approaching. Quickly he pushed the ship down to lower the altitude. Looking up out of the top window of the cockpit a large constellation of parts passed by, some close enough that Jackson could read what was written on them. One long arm read “Canada.” Another piece had part of the American flag. And others were marked with “EU” and “Russia.”
“Ethel, where is the I.S.S.?” Jackson asked nervously.
“We are underneath it, sir. You should be looking at it.”
Jackson looked back at the screen. The beacon claiming to be the I.S.S. was approaching. Jackson climbed out of his seat and floated to the upper window for a better look. Approaching was a large white cylinder. It was heavily damaged. As it passed over the Sphinx, Jackson could see a massive hole in the middle of the hull. “It looks like there was an internal explosion.” Jackson turned to get a better look. “Ethel, are you reading any other signals from the station?
Jackson watched as the debris from the I.S.S. passed by. He thought about the astronauts, many whom Jackson had worked with in his former life, and wondered if any of them got out alive. Eventually the parts passed on ahead and into the glimmering sun light.
Jackson pushed himself back down to his seat. “Let's keep looking, Ethel. Something is going to tell us what happened.”
For next several hours, Jackson searched satellite after satellite attempting to find something, anything, that could tell him more. But all he could discover were bits and pieces of news reports similar to what he had already found.
Eventually Jackson's eyes grew heavy and he fell asleep in his chair.
The soft beep-beep beep-beep of the short-range scanner ticked away. “Elise,” Jackson called out, waking up and squinting his eyes. Then, realizing where he was, he reached for the water tube and took a drink. “Ethel, how long have I been asleep?”
“Fifty-seven minutes, sir.”
Jackson looked over at the monitor. “Report.”
“We have acquired a new signal, sir.” The screen zoomed in on a glowing green dot. Jackson could see the indicator beacon but no identifier was applied to the object.
“Can not tell, sir. The signal seems encrypted. I can only see that there's something there.”
“Confirm. Charting course.”
The Sphinx fired its engines and slowly approached the unknown object. Even at a distance, Jackson could tell that whatever it was was very large. A green-blue light glinted off of the mass. Jackson rotated the Sphinx five degrees and brought the ship along side of it. “Ethel, match speed.”
Jackson flipped a few switches to his left, turning on floodlights on the outside of the ship. “Alright, let's have a look.” He tapped the joystick slightly to the left. On the starboard bow of the Sphinx three blue fames flared, and the ship turned slowly to the left. The light of the floods passed over the green-blue hull of the vessel. Turning a little more, the light brought into full view the image of the American flag. Below the flag, written in white letters, was DSP-185. “This thing is huge! I've never seen a satellite this big. What is it?”
“Unknown sir.” Ethel replayed. “Scanning my database for any known record.”
Jackson brought the Sphinx underneath the large horn of the satellite; it was sleek but very large. Several solar panels extended out from its side. A large array of other devices was mounted to the side.
“Are we able to link with it?” Jackson asked.
“Not so far, sir. Unfortunately the encryption of the signal is military grade.”
Jackson turned the Sphinx up 90 degrees to take a look at the other side of the beast. Then he saw it - the maintenance access panel. “Ethel, what if we hard wired into it? Could we access it then?”
“Unknown sir. But it is possible.”
Jackson pulled the Sphinx up next to the satellite. A few moments later, the hatch on top of the Sphinx opened, and Jackson climbed out. “Alright Ethel, I only have 30 minutes of air in this thing. Give me an update every five minutes.”
Jackson reached down and connected two tethers to the hull of the Sphinx. The Earth spun below him, giving him a dizzying feeling. “You know I've always dreamed of doing this, but it’s far more intense than I expected.” He clipped the other side of the tethers to his suit. Then bending his knees he made a jumping motion, propelling himself away from the hull of the Sphinx towards the satellite.
Jackson reached for the handle grip near the maintenance panel but missed it and bounced off the hull. Sliding further, his tether suddenly reached full extension, jolting his body with such a force he thought he might throw up. “Ethel!” Jackson yelled, trying to catch his breath. “Ethel!”
Jackson grabbed the tether and turned himself around. “Slowly back the ship away twenty feet.”
“Confirm.” Small blue flames sparked out from the starboard side of the Sphinx the ship slowly backed away, dragging Jackson with it.
Jackson reaching his hand out, “Slowly, slowly, slower...now stop!” The flames stopped on the starboard side, and a few counter spurts shot out from the port side to steady the ship. Jackson drifted closer and closer to the handgrip until, reaching out, he was able to grasp it with his left hand. The tug on his arm nearly pulled his shoulder out of its socket. “Ugh!” Jackson cried. But he hung on and gripped onto the other handle to steady himself against the machine.
Taking the clamp from one of the tethers, Jackson connected the Sphinx to the satellite.
“You have 25 minutes of air left, sir.”
“Thank you Ethel.” Reaching down he pulled a drill from the pocket in his right leg. He set the bit and began drilling out one of the bolts that held the maintenance panel in place. “Man, this is harder than I thought it would be. I'm going to need a few extra minutes on this.” He finally broke the head on the first bolt and moved on to the next.
“Twenty minutes left sir.”
Grinding away with the drill, the shards of steel flaked off slowly, ever slowly. Sweat beads began to form on Jackson's forehead. The second bolt head broke. “That's two.” Quickly he moved on to the next, grinding. The drill bit was feeling dull. Jackson pressed down harder, and the drill slowed. “Come on, come on.”
“Alright,” Jackson said annoyed. “Ethel, just tell me when I have five minutes left, alright?”
Pressing down harder, the drill bit snapped. Jackson hand slipped off the drill and bounced off the hull, smashing his hand through the glove. “Ouch! Damn it!”
Jackson looked at his hand. “Yeah, I’m fine, but I just broke the drill bit.” He looked at the broken bit and tried to drill with it again, but it was no use. Untethering the drill from his hand, he returned it to his leg pocket and grabbed his hammer. Pounding on what remained of the third bolt head, it finally broke. Jackson looked at the fourth bolt, unsure what to do.
He thought for a minute, then flipping the hammer around to the claw side and attempted to wedge it into the seam. “Bagh, it won't go, this is no use.” Jackson looked down, defeated and tired. “I just need something to hit it with.”
A moment passed, “Might I suggest the drill?” Ethel replied calmly.
Jackson laughed. “Ethel, I love you.”
“I won't tell Elise, sir.”
Jackson grabbed the drill and, using the hilt as a hammer, pounded the hammer into the small slit between the hull and the panel. Pulling every so often, Jackson was finally able to wrench the panel up. He slide the hammer claw further up the side, bending it until he was able to push it out of the way enough to look in. “Crap.” Jackson slipped the hammer and drill back into the leg pocket. “It's a DB-25 pin connector.” Jackson grabbed the tether that the snake of cables was tied to and looked over what he had; HDMI, DB-37, RJ-11, TNC, BNC, Coax. “I don't have it!”
“And I don't have time to rewire it.” Jackson looked into the small hatch again. “Nothing.” He looked at the oxygen gauge, breathing heavy, then at the group of cable connectors. Then back to the oxygen gauge. Jackson thought for a moment and then laughed nervously. “Ethel, don't freak out, but I'm going to cut off my oxygen.”
If it were possible for a computer to sound concerned at this moment, Ethel would have. “Sir, why would you do that?”
“Because,” Jackson grunted, ripping the Velcro bands that held the gauge to his arm, “Randomly enough, when I wired up this gauge years ago, I made the control line out of a BNC cable to a DB-25 for the display panel.” Jackson reached back and disconnected the BNC adapter from the oxygen tank. The small hissing sound of oxygen filling his suit suddenly stopped. “I need to save my breath, hang on.”
Jackson took the oxygen gauge in his hand and pounded it against the hull of the satellite several times. On the third strike, the case broke. Pulling the case apart he tossed it away. Then, snapping the internal circuit, Jackson disconnected the DB-25 end of the cable. He plugged the cable into the satellite, pulled out a small knife, and carefully cut the fabric channel which attached the cable to his arm.
The air was running thin and Jackson’s vision began to blur. He grabbed the BNC cable from the Sphinx and struggled to make the connection. “Ethel,” Jackson said faintly. “Bring the ship in closer.”
“Confirm.” The Sphinx slowly moved in, rotating 45 degrees, setting the hatch within a few feet of Jackson's position.
Jackson twisted the connector and the BNC cables locked. He turned to reach for the ship, his eyes blurry. Jackson fought to see straight. “Where are you?”
“Right in front of you, sir. Just push out, you can't miss it.”
With blind trust in Ethel's words Jackson pushed himself away from the satellite and grasped in the blur for the Sphinx. It was only a brief moment, but that space between the two vessels felt like an eternity. Jackson held his breath and then banged into the Sphinx. Frantically, he felt for something to hang on to.
“You made it, sir. Now climb in the hatch,” said Ethel.
Jackson, gasping for air, untethered himself and reached for the opening. Once in, he turned back and pulled the hatch shut with a clang, then rolled the wheel-like handle to reseal the ship's door. The indicator light changed from red to green. “Ethel, re-pressurize the ship,” he said weakly.
“Confirm.” There was a high hissing sound of the cab refilling with air. Jackson struggled to unlock his helmet; the clamp was stuck. Panicked, he thrashed around attempting pull it off. “Cabin re-pressurized.”
Suffocating in a room full of air, Jackson desperately reached for his knife and cut through the layers of fabric on the chest of his suit. The seal was broken, and air began trickling in. Gasping, coughing, spitting, the little air slipping through his jacket was what he needed. Fumbling for the helmet clamp again, he found it and forced the clamp open. The helmet, with a click, finally released. Jackson pulled it off his head, taking gulping breaths of air.
After a few minutes, Jackson, having caught his breath, slowly made his way back to the pilot’s seat. “Did it work?” The screen glitched and fuzzed sporadically.
“I'm currently working to unlock the system.” Ethel responded. “These files are heavily encrypted.”
Jackson sucked down a bottle of water. “Can you get it?”
“Stand by.” A moment pasted. “Stand by.”
Suddenly an image appeared on the screen and a voice spoke.
“General Franks, we are linked with NARAD and CENTCOM. They are seeing what we're seeing.”
“Thank you, Colonel,” replied a large man wearing an Air-force uniform, standing at the far end of the room.
Jackson leaned forward. He was looking into a large room, filled with military personnel; it was The War Room. Large screens covered one wall displaying real time information from satellites and other sensors. Workstations were lined in rows, each manned by teams of officers diligently examining their data. The Joint Chiefs paced the room, looking over shoulders, asking questions, analyzing, consulting one another.
“Gentlemen, I'll be brief,” General Franks said looking into the camera. “By now you have seen the rumored reports that we are seeing here. We are working to confirm, but it seems that something has exploded over the Golf of Finland, forty miles east of Saint Petersburg. We are unsure if this is related to or the cause of the large offensive on the northern Ukrainian border near Belarus. But I'm told the President is on the phone with Moscow right now, attempting to resolve this peacefully. However, given the tenuous situation, we are at the current level of defense. I would ask for your patience and your full attention, as this will probably be a long day.” The door opened and General Franks stopped.
The Secretary of Defense entered the room. “Report.”
“We are standing by at DEFCON 1, awaiting the President's orders, Mr. Secretary,” said General Franks.
“Sir, I think you should have a look at this!” a voice called from the other end of the room. It was that of Major Richards, communication specialist. “Russian news is now reporting that they have taken out one of our missiles somewhere over the Baltic Sea.” The bank of screens in front of the Major displayed various news outlets. The screens were filled with people celebrating in the Square of St. Petersburg. A news reporter spoke cheerfully in Russian, shouting into the microphone.
“Will someone translate that!” ordered the Secretary.
Major Richards spoke brokenly. “He is saying. 'We cannot be defeated. The oppressors of the West have drawn first blood. It is now time for the people of our great country to stand up, speaking with one voice with the world, and say that we will not be bullied. We are the superior power, not the United States!” The camera tilted up and zoomed in high in the sky on a strange blue scar in the atmosphere.
Jackson gasped at the sight of of the Sphinx's blue contrail that ran across the screen.
“'We are the victors!'” The Major continued to translate unemotionally; he spoke flatly, confused and worried. “'And we call upon our leaders to defend us now! For our future! For our children! For Mother Russia!'”
At the reporter’s last words, the crowd behind him exploded into a mighty uproar. Someone began to shout and sing the national anthem, others quickly joined in until the entire Square was celebrating in one mass ecstasy of patriotism.
"Славься, Отечество наше свободное,
Братских народов союз вековой,
Предками данная мудрость народная!
Славься страна! Мы гордимся тобой!"
The room watched on with a dreadful silence.
Finally, the Secretary of State gritted his teeth and turned away from the screen. “Thank you, Major.”
“My god, Bob! What did you do?” Admiral Mendez accused.
“Me?” the Secretary protested adamantly
“Is this another one of your unilateral actions? You have been saying for weeks that we need to do something about the Ukrainian Conflict.'”
“I have, but not this! I didn't order this!” the Secretary yelled defensively.
“Sir!” cried an analyst. “You need to see this.” The Secretary, Admiral Mendez, and General Franks rushed over to his station.
The Russian Minster of Defense was speaking to the press, in full regalia, standing before a large Russian flag. “This is an act of war.” He spoke haltingly. “As I am speaking, our Ambassador to the U.N. is delivering unquestionable evidence to the U.N. Secretary General that the United States, with full intent of starting a nuclear war, has, less than two hours ago, launched an Intercontinental Ballistic Missile from one of their many hidden silos in Kansas…”
“Kansas?” The Secretary turned and looked at the Admiral and the General, who returned equal looks of confusion. “We haven't had anything out there for sixty years.”
“...and targeted our great city of St. Petersburg.” The Russian Minister of Defense continued, “This unprovoked attack was thwarted thanks to the quick action of our superior air-force. This reckless act is unacceptable, and we, Russia, shall retaliate swiftly and immediately.”
“Sir, we have just picked up a signal which appears to be an SLBM,” a Lieutenant called out. “Twelve miles off our eastern seaboard. Calculating current speed, it should be here in eight minutes.”
“What’s its trajectory?” asked the Secretary.
“Here, sir! Here!” The Lieutenant turned and looked at the Secretary. “Washington.”
Like a hive of bees, the room buzzed into activity. The Secretary picked up a phone. “Get me the President!”
General Franks turned. “Colonel, prepare to launch the counter measures!”
“Rescind that order!” called out a familiar voice. All eyes turned to see President Ego entering the room, wearing a polo and shorts, carrying a racket.
The Secretary of Defense turned to the President, dropping the phone. “Are you mad?” He looked at the Colonel. “Launch the counter measures.”
The President stepped into the room, “I said rescind that order.” The Colonel looked at the President, then back to the Secretary; unsure what to do, he set the phone down.
The Secretary rushed over to the President. “This is not a game--”
“If we fire on that missile,” President Ego said cutting him off, “that will be an act of war.” He spoke arrogantly, with an air of reason.
“Mr. President, we are at war!” the Secretary argued, pointing towards the screen.
“This is not a war, this is a land grab,” Ego countered.
Befuddled, the Secretary stuttered. “Can't you see? They're not playing around!”
“I will not be responsible for the deaths of millions of innocent lives,” Ego responded.
“In about five minutes, this entire city is going to be vaporized. Do you want to be responsible for that?”
The room watch as the President and the Secretary stared one another off, two immoveable stones.
Then, turning to his aid, the President said, “Prepare for broadcast.” He looked back at the Secretary. “I need to know what the people want me to do.” With that, the President walked out the door.
“We do not have time for your damn TV show! We have to act now!”
President Ego turned back, stepping nose to nose with the Secretary. “I am the leader of this country!” he yelled at the top of his voice.
The room was deathly still, save for the rhythmic beat of the computer tracking the missile. Not a soul moved. The Secretary stood firm, calculating his next words, then lowered his deep gravelly voice so only the President could hear. “You are no leader. Just a follower with a title.”
“How dare you speak to me like that!” yelled President Ego. “I am the President of the United States! You are dismissed!”
“You stupid little brat!” The Secretary pulled out a pistol, cocked it, and pointed it at the President's head. “I have been defending this country since before you were in diapers.” In a split second, every weapon in the room was pointing at him. “Colonel, launch the counter measures!” he bellowed. No one moved. “Now!”
The Colonel turned to follow the order.
“You will do no such thing, Colonel,” the President ordered. The Colonel stopped and nervously looked back.
“Put the gun down, Bob,” Admiral Mendez said calmly, attempting to move between the Secretary and President Ego. “It doesn't have to end like this.”
“Doesn’t it, John?” The Secretary's hands were shaking slightly. “How is it supposed to end? Think of your wife, your children; Abby and Johnny.” He looked around at the men in the room. “All of you, is this what you want? Is it? Do you all want to die because of the negligence of this moron?”
“Two minutes until impact,” the voice of the computer interrupted. The speed of the beep quickened. All eyes were on President Ego. The President's eyes were on the tip of the barrel of the Secretary’s pistol. Beads of sweat rolled down the Secretary's face.
“Mr. President, we are all going to die if you don't act now,” the Secretary pleaded.
The beeping of the approaching missile increased. “One minute until impact,” said the computer. The clock ticked.
“The warhead has armed, sir!” called out a Major.
Suddenly, the Secretary lunged forward. Pushing the President out of the way, he reached for the control panel. President Ego, catching his balance, jumped back and tackled the Secretary. The two men fought, grabbing and punching each other, trying to control the gun. The Joint Chiefs and the other officers rush forward. The room was utter chaos. Bang! The gun went off. Several jumped back. The clock raced towards zero.
Admiral Mendez grabbed the Secretary and, pulling him off of the President, slammed him against the control panel. The two struggled, Mendez desperately trying to grab the gun.Struggling, the Secretary managed to free his right hand and slammed his fist down on the com trigger yelling, “Fire! Fire! Fire!”
The tracking beep pulsed so quickly it was heard only as a single tone. The men fought, yelled, and struggled, and in a flash of white and screams the signal ended.
Jackson watched, eyes wide, heart racing, racked with fear and disbelief. The screen went blank, then one final image displayed. It was a 3D map of the globe; red dots began to appear, some from land and others from the sea. U.S. to Russia. Russia to the U.S. The lines traced back and forth. Then India to Pakistan. China to Japan. England, Germany, France.... Before long so many red dots trailed across the screen that nothing else could be seen. The file ended, the screen when black, and the world became still.
A small water droplet floated through the cockpit, and then another. With each blink, a tear droplet released from Jackson's eye. The threnodial shower drifted about, drops colliding with one another and congealing into new forms, as the ship hummed a mechanized dirge.
Jackson, worn out, wiped his eyes. “Ethel.”
“Activate landing sequence. We're taking her down.”
“I'm sorry, sir, but with this level of radiation the ship would incinerate before we ever reached the mesosphere.” Ethel protested.
“I don't care. We're taking her down. I need to know what happened.” Jackson, determined, pressed down on the joystick. The Sphinx began to fall back to the earth.
“Even if you were to make it to ground level, we no longer have the hardware in place to run the landing gear,” Ethel reasoned.
“I DON'T CARE!!!” Jackson screamed.
“This is inadvisable. You will die.”
“I don't care! Let me die!”
“Activating emergency protocols.” Jackson's controls deactivated. “I'm sorry, sir, but you are no longer of the proper mental stability to fly this ship.” The Sphinx leveled off and returned to orbit.
“Ethel!” he screamed, jerking the joystick. “Ethel!” Jackson slammed his hand on the control panel. “They’re dead! They’re all dead! Because of me!” Jackson fell forward and wept.
Veiled in the endless night, the Earth lay quietly below as flicks of lighting jumped here and there with vicious force. The Sphinx passed slowly across the equator, crossing the threshold from the southern to the northern hemisphere. All was silent.
Finally Ethel spoke. “If I may, sir, it seems that although you might be responsible for the events that caused this war, you did not kill these people. The leaders of the world did. It was they that chose how to respond. Not you.”
Jackson sat up, taking little comfort in the truth that had just been spoken. “How much oxygen do we have left Ethel?”
“Approximately one and a quarter hours, sir.”
Jackson sighed. “Oh, what I give would for a steak right now.” He looked around to see if there was any food in the compartments. “What a way to end, isn't it?”
“How much power do we have left?”
“Running at low power, I calculate that the ship will run for three years, four months, thirteen days, six hours, and eleven minutes.”
“Do we have enough juice for another jump?”
“No, sir, there is not enough remaining power in the secondary core to engage the light speed engine again.”
“Ethel, without the vitals, how long can you sustain the ship?”
“Several hundred years, sir.”
Jackson sighed, weighing his options. He shook his head, frustrated at himself, at the world, at everything. After a few minutes he finally spoke. “Ethel, I would like to record a message. After I'm done I want you to play it on an endless loop.”
“Confirm.”
“And,” Jackson fought back tears, coming to terms with the inevitable. “When my air runs out, I want you to power down the ship except for this broadcast.”
“Confirm. You can begin recording at any time.”
“You're a good friend, Ethel, thank you.”
“It has been a pleasure, sir.”
Jackson sat silent for a few moments, thinking, then took a few deep breaths to calm his nerves. “Okay, I'm ready. Go ahead.” A red light clicked on with a beep. “My name is Jackson Price,” he began slowly. “I am orbiting the Earth in my ship called the Sphinx, at approximately 30,000 kilometers above sea level. If you are hearing this, then you are one of the lucky ones...”
For the next hour Jackson spoke, explaining the events that had led to the war. His ship, the journey, and how it led to the devastating misunderstanding between two nations; one bent on conquering, the other desiring popularity over wisdom. He gave a simple history of the world and the major cultures that existed when he left the Earth. He explained how to access the limited database housed in the ship’s computer, were anyone ever to achieve space flight and find the Sphinx.
“Finally, if anyone...” Jackson’s voice was faint as he struggled for air. “If anyone hears this.... tell Elise, I'm sorry...” Static filled the line. “...and I love her.” Jackson’s voice faded.
Beep! The com-link clicked, and static fuzzed on the frequencies for a moment. Beep!
“My name is Jackson Price, I am orbiting the Earth...”
Like the winged messenger of ancient days covered by the sands of time, this beast sailed the skies, hidden for now, to some day serve as a reminder that kingdoms rise and kingdoms fall.
The Sphinx grew ever smaller as is slowly passed into the oncoming night, until it disappeared beyond the distant horizon. The Earth, lifeless, turned below with dark clouds churning and lighting licking across the endless shroud. Waiting.
Like shook foil flamed out, God's grandeur ceased.
This is the way the world ends.
This is the way the world ends,
not with a whimper or shriek but with a bang.
For when leaders of men are not bold but weak,
This is the way the world ends.
God's Grandeur – Gerard Manley Hopkins
The Hollow Men – T.S. Eliot
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Gone by Peter-John Campbell @2014
