{"id":302,"date":"2014-11-07T16:00:47","date_gmt":"2014-11-07T22:00:47","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/stupefyingstoriesshowcase.com\/?p=302"},"modified":"2017-03-11T10:21:45","modified_gmt":"2017-03-11T16:21:45","slug":"fiction-waters-of-oblivion-by-michael-haynes","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/stupefyingstoriesshowcase.com\/?p=302","title":{"rendered":"Fiction: “Waters of Oblivion” by Michael Haynes"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"watersofoblivion\"<\/a>J<\/span>ackson always calls hyperspace the \u201cwaters of oblivion.\u201d<\/strong> It seems an odd affectation, out of character with the rest of his carefree personality. His parents are both dead and he has no close relatives; he\u2019s told me he plans to work the hyperspace runs until he\u2019s thirty and then retire young and wealthy.<\/p>\n

I asked him about the phrase once, and he wouldn\u2019t answer me. Two days later ship\u2019s time, after we\u2019d completed the three-jump journey to the Karibib outpost to drop off our cargo, he turned to me and said \u201cI took it from an ancient text.\u201d Then he walked away.<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t realize what he\u2019d been referring to until many minutes later.<\/p>\n

\u00a4<\/p>\n

Getting ready for a jump is easy. Put in all of the navigational information and the computer does the rest of the work. The jump itself only takes seconds. At least, that\u2019s what all the systems say. But while you\u2019re in a jump, hours or days or even weeks go by in the rest of the universe. And here\u2019s the thing. All those<\/em> seconds? You feel them.<\/p>\n

Doctors and biologists say that\u2019s impossible, that it\u2019s a trick of the mind. That since the body doesn\u2019t go through more than a few seconds of biological processes\u2014respiration, circulation, digestion, and the like\u2014that the brain simply cannot actually be experiencing an extended period of time.<\/p>\n

There are armchair scientists and weekend philosophers who debate this endlessly on the nets. Some say it\u2019s proof there exists something separate from our physical bodies that contains our consciousness. A soul. Others insist there must be a biological reason, even if we don\u2019t understand it yet. One of the most notable proponents of this latter view raised money and arranged to have himself brought on board a jump ship as \u201ccargo\u201d several years ago. He returned no less confident in his writings on the topic. And yet, when a soul advocate offered to put up the money for him to make a second trip, he declined.<\/p>\n

\u00a4<\/p>\n

\u201cHow\u2019s David?\u201d I ask my partner via the hypercomm. Jackson is sleeping and I should be sleeping, too. But the ship doesn\u2019t have hypercomm capabilities and the morning will be taken up with the preflight checklist for the jumps to Namanga Station with no time for personal matters. Our son\u2019s first birthday is the day after tomorrow\u2014while my ship will be off navigating the waters of oblivion\u2014and I want to talk to him and to my partner. David was three months old when I left home on a month-long ship\u2019s-time run.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s gorgeous,\u201d she tells me. \u201cStanding up and ready to walk. Stinky as ever.\u201d She laughs with this last comment and the sound brings a tear to my eye. I don\u2019t know why I feel sad but I rush through the rest of the call, tell her that I miss the two of them and love them and that I\u2019ll be home soon. I\u2019m thinking of the four more days of our run, not the six weeks and two days that she and David will experience.<\/p>\n

Lying in bed, I realize that the time difference is why her laughter pained me so much. I hurt, having only missed her for twenty-six days. I feel like it should be hurting her ten times as badly to have missed me for ten times as long.<\/p>\n

For a moment, I feel righteous, but as quickly as it had blossomed, the hot anger disperses. I can\u2019t know that she\u2019s not hurting and even if she isn\u2019t, how could I justify wishing on her suffering tenfold my own?<\/p>\n

\u00a4<\/p>\n

David took his first steps while we were in hyperspace. Karla tells me about this and also about the fever he has spiked while we talk via the Namanga Station hypercomm. I can hear him wailing in the background. She tries to soothe David but he won\u2019t be calmed.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m going to take him to a medcenter,\u201d she tells me. \u201cI\u2019ve got to go.\u201d<\/p>\n

We say our \u201cI love you\u201ds and goodbyes, I tell her to take good care of David, and then I end the communication. But in the morning, I can\u2019t focus, worried about David\u2019s illness, knowing that when we arrive at Shimoni\u2014our final drop for the tour\u2014he\u2019ll almost certainly be better. Unless he isn\u2019t.<\/p>\n

Jackson is working with the navigation system and I slip away to contact Karla again.<\/p>\n

\u201cA double ear infection,\u201d she tells me. \u201cThey gave him antibiotics.\u201d David lets out a strong cry in the background. Her soft voice, soothing him, soothes me. \u201cThe poor guy hurts, but it\u2019ll be over in a few days.\u201d<\/p>\n

Relief washes over me. \u201cWe\u2019re taking off,\u201d I tell Karla. \u201cI love you. I love him. And I\u2019ll see you soon.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jackson glares at me when I come back up to the bridge.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve got everything entered into the computer,\u201d he says. \u201cWe\u2019re already behind schedule, but if you still want to confirm the inputs\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

I shake my head as I\u2019m buckling into my seat. \u201cThe sooner we leave, the sooner we get home.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jackson nods. \u201cJump in three… two… one… Jump.\u201d<\/p>\n

There\u2019s the usual sensation, a mind able to think but a body paralyzed. The jump is supposed to be eight days outside time. Not the longest jump I\u2019ve ever done, but not a short one either.<\/p>\n

There\u2019s no point of time reference but the jump feels too long. Some people feel this way in hyperspace regularly; they end up not being cut out for the job. I\u2019ve never had this experience before and I\u2019m sure it\u2019s been days too long. And still it goes on.<\/p>\n

At some point, I feel my mind tuning out, closing down on itself, like going to sleep though there\u2019s still some part of me that\u2019s aware that time keeps on slipping by.<\/p>\n

When we drop out of hyperspace, I feel like I\u2019ve been socked in the gut. While I\u2019m catching my breath, Jackson is already working the computer.<\/p>\n

\u201cShimoni is not within range,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat is?\u201d<\/p>\n

Seconds pass. Real seconds.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m getting a signal in the sector. But…\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut what?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not an outpost I\u2019ve ever heard of before.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u00a4<\/p>\n

Fortaleza Station was built twenty-nine years after I was born. My son, David, was six years old then.<\/p>\n

It has been in operation for eighteen years.<\/p>\n

The station crew members are happy to welcome us, even though the supplies we bring are all amusingly outdated as far as they are concerned. They check over our ship and determine that our jump coordinates were set incorrectly. That, combined with a flaw in the computer failsafes, brought us to this point. We\u2019re lucky, they say, that we ended up so close to a new station rather than in a vast expanse of empty space.<\/p>\n

Lucky.<\/p>\n

They offer to help us track down our relatives. Jackson, already alone, declines their help. I thank them for the offer, though I am afraid of what they will find out.<\/p>\n

The next day I\u2019m sitting at a hypercomm station, sleeker than those I remember, looking at Karla and David. He is my age and looks it. Karla\u2019s hair has started to go gray and there are wrinkles on her face. She looks strikingly like her mother.<\/p>\n

David has no memories of me. Karla remarried a dozen years ago, long after I was declared dead in absentia. We talk for a while and find ourselves quickly out of things to say. Twenty-three years summed up in under an hour.<\/p>\n

She smiles and says it\u2019s good to know that I\u2019m okay. I am about to tell Karla that I love her, but I catch myself, stumbling over the first word in the sentence, changing the rest to say that I will be in touch soon. She smiles again and nods, not realizing how close we came to an awkward moment, to having to face that the love she had given up for dead decades ago still burns hot in my mind. In my body.<\/p>\n

We break the connection.<\/p>\n

I lie in bed that night, thinking about Karla and David. Part of me still feels like our life together should still be within my reach, but I know that\u2019s only a dream. That there\u2019s no going back to what I had so recently, so long ago.<\/p>\n

Tomorrow morning, Jackson will be on our ship, taking the twenty-three-year jaunt back to Earth. He\u2019s content with the idea of getting back to work in a world nearly fifty years beyond the one he left last month.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve made up my mind and I will be on the ship, too. Content, I\u2019m not. But resigned? Well, I guess that\u2019s close enough.<\/p>\n

I think about using the hypercomm one more time before we depart to let Karla and David know my plans. To say that I\u2019ll see them\u2014if they\u2019re still alive\u2014when I get to Earth. But I realize there\u2019s no point in that.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ll know soon enough what the future holds.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

\"MichaelHaynes\"<\/a>MICHAEL HAYNES<\/strong> lives in Central Ohio. An ardent short story reader and writer, Michael has had stories appear in venues such as Beneath Ceaseless Skies<\/em>, Nature<\/em>, and Daily Science Fiction<\/em>. He is Co-Editor at Goldfish Grimm’s Spicy Fiction Sushi<\/em>. His website is http:\/\/michaelhaynes.info\/<\/a>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Jackson always calls hyperspace the \u201cwaters of oblivion.\u201d It seems an odd affectation, out of character with the rest of his carefree personality. His parents are both dead and he has no close relatives; he\u2019s told me he plans to work the hyperspace runs until he\u2019s thirty and then retire young and wealthy<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":303,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[3],"tags":[6],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/stupefyingstoriesshowcase.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/302"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/stupefyingstoriesshowcase.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/stupefyingstoriesshowcase.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/stupefyingstoriesshowcase.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/stupefyingstoriesshowcase.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=302"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"http:\/\/stupefyingstoriesshowcase.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/302\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":307,"href":"http:\/\/stupefyingstoriesshowcase.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/302\/revisions\/307"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/stupefyingstoriesshowcase.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/303"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/stupefyingstoriesshowcase.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=302"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/stupefyingstoriesshowcase.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=302"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/stupefyingstoriesshowcase.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=302"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}