Rope

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. We scream anyway. Whenever some half-drunk fool decides they want to take a chance on the Weekly Pot, we march him (almost always a him) up to the airlock like a big boozy parade. We all cheer while they suit up and enter the airlock. Once the door closes, we start to scream. It is the only way we can be heard from the sealed room while they tie themselves off with an old rope or cable. Once he is tied off, we start to scream a count-down waiting for the outer hull to open. When it opens, the chamber evacuates atmosphere and the idiot gets sucked out along with it shooting into dark space until they hit the end of the rope.

Then the idiot has to sit there. In the silence for an hour. That’s how long it takes to reel someone back in. Longer if everyone is too drunk to operate the winch. When they come back in, they get the “Pot.” Its usually enough money to pay bills for a week or two. Occasionally, the exit angle is off. Instead of snapping to a halt, the person ends up torqueing around the station until they smack into the hull. Sometimes they live. Sometimes they don't. If they live, after being reeled in like a stunned fish, they get the “Pot.” If they don’t, the “Pot” keeps growing until the next week. There is always someone poor enough and desperate enough who wants to try.

I’ve done it before. Once. The atmosphere sucks you out like a bullet. When you hit the end of the rope it is a jarring snap like running into a bulkhead. It hurts like hell. Even through the evac suit. That one time, I made enough money to keep myself in beer and skittles for almost a week. I’m not sure it was worth it for the loneliest most terrifying two hours of my life. We were all very drunk that night.

This week, there are two people who want risk it all. Only one person can go so they need to decide who it will be. Sometimes its easy; almost friendly. But tonight, we have Mickey and Berle. They don’t like each other much so it isn’t going to be friendly at all. The bar is silent and expectant while the two men eye each other warily across a small flimsy plastic bar table. No one takes so much as a drink. Waiting.

Berle moves first – but like all of us in the bar, he is drunk half out of his mind. He leans forward to steady himself with one hand on the table as he attempts to swipe at Mickey like a drunken bear in overalls. The table tips and he begins to go down almost instantly. Mickey helps him with a huge hand to the side of Berle’s head. That decides it and the bar goes wild. Mickey dances around drunkenly with his hands in the air like an old-time prize fighter.

As always, the parade is a lot of noise and fun. We march to the airlock whooping and yelling with Mickey in the lead. The cheering begins as he suits up and doesn’t stop until he steps into the airlock and the door seals behind him. Then we scream. This is the part where terror sets in. Between the suit and the airlock, you can barely hear the screaming. But its there. It makes you feel like you’re connected to people. To the station. Once that airlock opens, you don’t hear anything at all and you are completely and terrifyingly alone.

I remember holding on to the dim sound of people screaming at me, for me, from the other side of the airlock window. That sound, the memory of that sound, kept me sane as I shot outside into vacuum. I was probably screaming myself up until I snapped to a stop at the end of the rope that knocked the wind out of me. I waited for three hours in that silence until they could reel me back in. We were all very drunk that night. I kept playing that last sound over and over in my head to keep me sane.

Tonight, Mickey gives us all a nervous wave as the countdown hits zero. The airlock door pops open and he shoots out like a cork. We scream as loud as we can. No way that he could hear us but we do it anyway. He needs to know that we are there so he can hold onto the thought of that sound as he shoots out into the insane and endless silence. It’s all that he has tonight and forever. Because sometimes… Sometimes the rope breaks.