The Colour of Light

I flagged this entry to be read first, however, if you read the others you will also find the occasional mention of strange green lights in the sky. I do not know the cause of these lights, but I do know that every time a light passes I feel a sense of ease, sometimes absolute contentedness. Any loneliness or worry I have about surviving in space is gone. A single wave rolling softly through my body, picking up anything negative and releasing it in a single exhale. It feels almost like a drug, my body taking a long drag from this unearthly green light, then sinking back into a seat to let the feeling roll through. At first, I thought I was delusional, feeling things that weren’t actually there. My body was craving some form of release from being alone on a ship for three years, so it made its own. But after these last few days, I know that what I’m experiencing is real.

One night while sleeping, I dreamt that I was trapped in a desert. I wasn’t lost, I knew which way to go, but I couldn’t move, no matter how hard I tried. The sand pulled at me, trapping my feet like quicksand while the sun lashed and stung at the skin on my back. After what seemed like eons of trying to pull myself free, I felt the sand loosen around my ankles. I finally pulled one foot free from the gripping sand and lunged forward in the tearing sun, and after a struggle, I started to move forward. As I began to pick up speed, the sun became more tolerable and I could barely feel the sand pulling at all. I had just reached a full sprint when the sand made one final grab for my heel and I tripped. I fell face-first into the ground and while trying to escape, I quickly pushed myself onto my elbows. I wiped my eyes clear and could see the sand creeping up my skin, trying to pull me down and devour me. I tried to work myself free, but as I pulled one arm loose, I moved with such force that I threw myself onto my back where I froze. The sun wasn’t the sun anymore, I had outrun it to a place where it had no power, no pull on me. In place of the sun, however, in no discernible shape or size, was that green light. It was every shade of green I could imagine and more that I couldn’t describe if I tried. Constantly rearranging, shifting and intertwining with each other. I can’t relate or even comprehend the movement they were making. Even now, trying to remember, I can only imagine the complete awe that I felt. A few moments after, I felt that same calming wave wash over my body, stronger than ever. I knew the light was closer than what it appeared, distance seems relative when your mind can’t comprehend what you’re seeing. I had no control over my body anymore. I sank back on my elbows, still facing upward and could feel the sand snaking up my arms, like vines on an aged building. But I couldn’t care, my mind and body were overtaken by the green above me.

The sand-covered my legs, waist, forearms, and was winding its way to my chest and shoulders. The light shone brighter and began to spread and grow. Each shade of green opening into new colours, colours I didn’t even know existed. One single light full of every possible colour in the universe. The sand reached my chin, one tendril weaved into the corner of my mouth and sand began to fill me from the inside. The light continued growing until it was covering the entire sky. I started to see minuscule paths of sand creeping across my vision, growing thicker until everything was black. No more light, no more sand. No more me. I could feel nothing around me. I couldn’t move a muscle because I didn’t have any. In that moment, I consisted purely of my own concsiousness. Then the blackness turned to grey. I felt a rough sensation weaving around me, pulling like the sand. I was something again. I had a body. My body. The grey was now white. The prickly weaving tightened around me. Yet, although the light brightened and the scratching wrapped tighter around my body, I was still at peace. Content. Then it was gone. I was in my bunk, sheets and blankets wrapped around my limbs, white lamp shining from above. In the corner of my eye, I thought I saw a flicker of light outside, a chorus of colours. I reached up to the porthole and could still feel the faint and tranquil comfort.

The next encounter came much more suddenly. Alarms had been blaring for several minutes as I rushed to link my suit up. I snapped my helmet into place, clicked and checked the locks then heard air hiss and the alarms turn to a dull hum as the suit pressurised. I ran to the docking bay, agonisingly went through the exit procedure, attached my safety wire, then let myself float into the endless abyss. I swung myself not so gracefully onto the rails that ran to the head of the ship. I climbed and heard my own breathing surround me as I pushed forward. I looked inside one of the windows and could see the red lights still flashing. As I crested the main body, I quickly found the cause of the alarms. I could see air misting from one of the external recycling pipes. I knew that I would have to move quickly.

I unclipped the tool-pack from my belt and sifted through the contents to find the binding gel. I could cover the hole for the moment and come back later with the proper tools to fix it. I found the gel and unscrewed the lid, but in my bulky suit and adrenaline-fuelled rush I held on to the twist-top lid as the canister slipped from my grasp and drifted into the black. I made the quick decision to push myself from the ship to retrieve it, then pull myself back along the safety wire. I thrust forward, arm outstretched like some comical superhero, but unlike a hero, my aim was off. I sped past the canister and grabbed the wire, to start pulling myself back in. That was the moment I felt true fear overcome me. The wire was slack and I was still drifting. My heart rate jumped and I heard an alert through my suit. I could feel my adrenaline picking up, the blood pumping through my veins. My vision was almost a blur as my brain tried to slow time so I could work through my options. Panic started to kick in and I tried swimming my way back to the ship. Disorientated, I continued to move in the opposite direction. My brain switched from panic to fight. I searched my belt, looking for the biggest object to throw and change my trajectory. I unclipped the entire tool-pack just as I felt my body snap backward. My waist stopped first and I could feel the intense pressure on my hips where my belt pulled. Next, almost in slow motion, the stars spinning around me, I felt my spine and neck move in a way they weren’t built for, before they locked back into place. The wire was taut. My body readjusted itself as the feeling of whiplash began to set in. My back and neck seemed fine for now, just sore. I checked the rest of my limbs one at a time to make sure I could still feel them and see them move. I also checked my suit pressure and seals to make sure it wasn’t leaking. I’d been in the suit for 11 minutes and was down to 94% oxygen with no leaks, but I had lost my tool-pack. I inhaled deeply, held my breath for several seconds and exhaled in a futile attempt to calm my nerves. I watched the slight condensation dissipate as the gel canister drifted lazily by, just out of reach.

It was at that point that I began to feel at ease, far too quickly than what my body would naturally allow. Behind the ship I saw movement - it had returned. The light created an ethereal halo around the ship, a halo of continuously weaving and shifting shades of green. The aura grew brighter as new colours spread from the green, and smaller flashes lit the windows with the unearthly technicoloured glow. The feeling of bliss and contentment flowed stronger through me until I forgot where I was and what I was doing. The light crested the horizon of the ship, an impossible blinding brightness that caught my breath and paralysed my body, yet there was no fear. My eyes fixated on this undefinable being, its essence searing my retinas, my mind, the very back of my skull. The light itself wasn’t growing, its essence was becoming more complete, yet I still couldn’t see or even imagine its entirety. The vacuum around me was filling with light, an almost tangible thing. It flowed and brightened to such an unspeakable extreme that my mind lost the capacity to stay conscious. The last thing I remember is my vision blurring the colours to white, along with what I can only describe as a soft, comforting hum.

I awoke slowly, bleary-eyed and ears full of my suit alerting me I was low on oxygen. I found myself laying in my bunk, sheets wrapped around my body, yet I was still in my fully operational suit. I checked the pressure of the cabin, carefully depressurised my suit and freed myself, of both sheets and the suit. In a confused but curious daze, I examined my surroundings. Everything seemed brighter and clearer, I could even see the smallest imperfection in the wall on the other side of the cabin. One tiny scratch, smaller than a grain of sand, cast a shadow that seemed so deep and so dark it was almost uncomfortable. Next to my bunk spread out in three lines and arranged by colour were all of the tools, including the gel canister, with the tool-pack resting above.

I will never be able to say exactly what happened or how I ended back in my bunk, but when I checked the logs it said that I had been in my suit for over three hours and using minimal oxygen. If I hadn’t have woken I would’ve suffocated inside the suit, centimetres away from a breathable atmosphere. I left my suit sprawled on the ground for days before noticing the wire was still attached, but sliced clean through with an almost glass-like substance covering the end.

I have been drifting in space for over a week since contact, and I now know home is no longer an option. I also have a longing now - not for home, but for the light. I’ve seen it flash past several times. I can sense it watching me. I feel like every single fibre of my being is being pulled towards it. If I left for home now it would be that itch I could never scratch, that mountain I could never climb, that thing that would ultimately lead me to insanity. I’m not going to take extra oxygen, I’m not going to need it -the Light will accept me, or it won’t. Either way, I’ll be at peace.