All Systems Nominal

Iteration #512

“All systems nominal. Auxiliary and fluid mechanics are unremarkable,” I mumble under my breath.

The console hums beneath my fingers as the system roars to life.

This is it. I can feel it.

Despite doing this so many damn times, I heave deep, ragged breaths into the suit. Sweat beads down my temples, and I peek at my co-pilot.

Her eyes are tired but brimming with a lifetime of trust as she pulls her lips into a gentle smile, more wondrous than any aurora in the cosmos. My heart thunders against my chest.

“And here we go...” I push the ignition, and we’re pulled into our seats by the force. The engines fire, and we ascend into the heavens for the 512th time. And hopefully the last.

“Everything looks great! All systems are functioning.” I say through gritted teeth. But she’s not looking at her console, she’s staring at me. All googly-eyed like a love-sick teenager.

“What are you doing? Keep an eye on your HUD!” I bark. Without a word, she nods and returns to her screen. It’s unlike her to be this unfocused.

Don’t worry about it now, this is it! This time, I’ll save her!

But I don’t. It falls apart as with the previous five hundred eleven iterations. I don’t even remember the issue this time, but the result is the same: shrieking metal, blinding pain, suffocating silence, and darkness.

____________________________________________________

Iteration #7049

“All systems nominal.” I hiss through my teeth. This is it! I’ve gone through every permutation. I checked every fucking bolt.

But only darkness.

____________________________________________________

Iteration ??????

“All systems nominal?” It was supposed to be a statement, but it came out as a question. My iteration counter is…wrong.

This is unlike any of the previous attempts. Despite my incessant probing of the console, the shuttle remains dormant. All motion around us ceases.

“I’m so, so sorry," she says. Her eyes flash between exhaustion and infinite wells of sadness.

“What are you talking about? What’s going on?” I ask. I’ve never seen her like this. Thousands of attempts, but she wouldn’t remember anything like I would. Yet somehow her soul seems…frayed. Like a piece of paper tossed into an astroid field.

“I’ve been too selfish for too long. I love you.” She presses on the console, and an unfamiliar menu covers her display.

“Wait, I can save you.” I wail, “Please!”

“Not this time.”

Then she was gone.

____________________________________________________

I wipe a single tear from my eye. I’m surprised I have any left. I stare at the screen in front of me, fingernails pressing into the palms of my hands. The old scars flare white against my knuckles. I feel a warm hand against my back.

“It’s time.”

I nod, unable to trust my voice. A few strokes on the keyboard and the question I’ve been dreading for years finally pops into view: Delete Reminent Consciousness from the Shuttle Black Box?

Shaking, I select Confirm.