The Place Where Nothing Grows
1: smooth sailing
Nobody can hear you scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. He couldn’t know for sure. Seeing his reflection against safety glass, Apollo wondered what would happen to him if his tether should break loose on a “walk” if his transponder died. He would skim an ocean of stars between him and a single solid footfall. Frankly, it didn’t sound all that bad until he saw his breath fogging up the two-inch barrier between him and that ultimate nothingness. Weightless or not, he’d still need oxygen. Once his tanks ran out, he’d breathe in his own exhaust. He couldn’t scream if he wanted to. His world would go foggy. Blood vessels would swell in his temples until he couldn’t think, until even the lights burning all around him couldn’t keep out the dark. He didn’t want to think about that now. He was here for the duration. He had an idea how long that was, but deployments had a funny way of stretching out. Just how long he’d be there was someone else’s decision.
