The Last Scream

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. Maskel was determined to test that theory. He had been testing it for nearly twenty years.

Born almost totally deaf, he had accepted his deafness early in life. With all the medical advancements in the past century, remaining deaf was a choice. Even the most impoverished benefited from modern developments.

Not that Maskel had to worry about money. His profession paid him handsomely. He chose his hours and was his own boss. At forty-seven, he felt as fit as he ever did. He remained deaf because he had experienced the alternative and did not like it.

Truthfully, he could hear at any time if he wanted to. He had the technology. He preferred the silence. One would have thought that aural awareness would be a plus in his chosen field.

Not for Maskel. Modern technology and science had afforded him the scope for a different type of awareness. The older folks would call it spidey-sense, named after an old comic character from the twentieth century.

Maskel cared little for comics or old films. He favoured the new; new media, new technology and new things.

He liked practicality. If it worked, fulfilled a need, he would allow it attention. The 'spidey-sense' - as some termed it - was his method of always being aware of potential threats, of anything.

His life was not always like this. Not the necessity to be aware of threats anyway. The tech stuff had always been a part of his life. From the bio-aural implants, he had as a child to the future tech body-suit that had become his tool of work and second skin.

Work? What he did was not exactly work, not for him. It would be goulish to say it was a pleasure, especially considering 'pleasure' was something one shared. The only reason he took payment was to soothe the conscience of his clients.

Payment helped to keep some structure, some order. Maskel liked order; it kept things correct. Correctness mattered to Maskel. Correctness was why he did what he did. It gave him fulfilment. It was the only reason he accepted payment.

He was proud of his disciplined approach to life. The world was full of people who lacked self-control. People are only too happy to find a reason - any reason - to justify their poor life choices.

Unusually, his present life trajectory was not one he had planned. It was something that came about due to his work; the breakthrough. Like many breakthroughs, Maskel's came by accident. Transportation technology, along with his colleague, Driscol Leaton, was what he had been working on.

Leaton was a genius. He understood the project, the importance of the work they were doing. They had been trying to achieve the holy grail of transportation for almost a decade; teleportation.

Leaton was the creator, the dreamer. He saw things in a way others could not. Maskel was the person who would make the dream work. His was the ability to construct, to make the most esoteric and abstract ideas reality.

Leaton was sure he had solved the equation for creating teleportation. Maskel, though he understood a lot of what Leaton worked on, there were aspects that even he found confusing. He just built to whatever specifications Leaton asked.

He worked on his latest specs for nearly forty-eight hours without a break. For some reason, Leaton was more anxious than usual. He kept asking when Maskel would finish.

Pressure did not bother Maskel. It came with the job. Still, something was disquieting about Leaton's demeanour. That something had Maskel working more hurriedly than he would have liked.

He turned to Leaton and nodded; it was complete. Leaton grabbed the gilet-like garment eagerly and started laughing, wild-eyed with joy. He looked at his colleague. They were going to be rich, Leaton told him.

Maskel did not know what he meant. Leaton grinned conspiratorially; he had made a deal. A deal? What deal? With whom? Maskel asked. The military was the answer.

Maskel was not happy. This was not why he got involved with the project. He had wanted to help people, help many. He told Leaton this. Leaton scoffed, unable to believe Maskel's naivete.

They were going to make a fortune, he argued. It was not about money. They had had an agreement not to compromise. Not their principals, not for money.

Leaton laughed, he needed to grow up. This was the real world. In this world, money was a necessity. Maskel did not want to argue. He held onto the garment, trying to reason with Leaton.

Leaton would not hear reason. The thought of immediate riches blinded him. They were already rich, why go against their ideals? Ideals were for fools, Leaton spat. This deal would give them real power!

Maskel fell silent; there was no more to be said. Neither would change their stance. In that moment, he made a decision. He snatched the gilet from Leaton and donned it. Leaton was furious, raging manically. Maskel turned off his aural-sensors.

As Leaton continued to protest, fighting for the garment, both men disappeared.