The Perception of a Scream

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. What they don’t mention is that you can see a scream in space. It’s so cold and there are no particles moving that when someone screams, you see it like a fog in winter. You see the moisture leaving their body and you see the particles moving from their voice. But there’s no air to carry the scream, so you can’t hear it. You can only see it.

I know this from experience.

Everything started out normal. I’ve been on the space station for the last ten years, working basic repairs and maintenance both inside and out. It’s important work, but hardly dangerous compared to that of the scientists on board. We came out to tape up a leak, nothing unusual, and very routine. It’s standard for two people to come out. I wish, just this time, that it wasn’t

“Ready, Henry?” I check in with my partner before we open the door into space.

“Ready, Carl.”

We test our harnesses one last time by giving them a solid tug, then open the door into the void. We glide out gently, pulled by the slight pressure difference outside the cabin, then engage our thrusters to move over to the point of interest. The thrusters only apply a gentle force, just enough to take us where we’re going.

It’s a short journey around the station, but everything moves slower in space. It’s just safer that way. Or, it usually is.

“How are things with you these days, Carl?”

“Oh good, Henry, nothing out of the ordinary. I got the most recent episode of that podcast this morning, looking forward to listening to it tonight.”

“Oh yeah, is that the one your daughter is on?”

“You betcha.”

“You’ll have to let me know how it is.”

“Oh I’m sure it’ll be great. She always has something interesting to say.”

“That she does, Carl. Do you miss her out here?”

“I used to, yeah, but it’s nice just to hear her voice once a week. It’s not like I have grandbabies back home to worry about, and she’s all grown, living her own life. So I don’t mind being so far away most days.”

“Must be nice, having your kids all grown up. I can’t wait to get back down to Earth and see my fur babies.” Henry was only out here on a two year contract.

“It’s not quite the same, Henry.”

“I know, I know.”

“Here we are, one leaky pressure valve.”

“You got the tape?”

“Right here.” I raise the roll of pre-cut tape in my right hand.

Since everything is so slow, it’s hard to get any real momentum or force going out here. Henry grabs onto the end of the roll and engages his thrusters just a little to rip off a piece. It comes off smoothly. He grabs the other end with his left hand and stretches it taut. I come in around his side to help guide him into place. With his hands full, it isn’t recommended that he engage his thrusters.

Together, we tape closed the leak. I grab the tape that I left floating around and put it back in my suit. It still amazes me sometimes that a piece of tape can be the difference between life and death out here.

“Easy peasy, Henry. Let’s head back in.”

“Roger that, Carl.”

I start heading towards the airlock, the way we came out. I take my time looking around at the void that surrounds me. It’s easy for things to feel meaningless in all this emptiness, but my job truly does give me purpose. My job and remembering my daughter back home keep me going. I do worry about Henry sometimes though. I decide to check on him.

“So what are you up to this evening?”

Henry doesn’t reply at first, which is a bit odd, but he can be quiet at times. I continue on my way around the station to the door. It isn’t until I get there that I can tell something is wrong; Henry is never this quiet and he certainly shouldn’t be this far behind.

It’s one of those feelings you have deep in your gut. It feels like swallowing rocks or getting punched in the stomach, except the pain is in your bones. My brain is firing on all alarms. I try to stay calm, hopefully it’s just nothing.

“Henry?” I try again, but still no response.

“Base, this is Carl, can you get vitals on Henry?”

“Carl, this is Base, no we aren’t reading anything for Henry. Everything is flat. His suit must have disconnected or something.”

“Keep trying for me, Base. Something doesn’t feel right.”

“Will do, Carl.”

I turn around and circle back to where we were working. I come around the corner and see Henry floating by the patch site. The tape is still intact, so I’m not sure what he’s still doing out here. The way he’s floating there is unsettling. His hands are out of view and his legs are kicking out at odd angles. This is not the picture of a man who’s okay.

“Henry, buddy, what’s going on?”

I reach out my hand and slowly turn him around to face me. That’s when I see it. His hands are clawing at his face, trying to reach inward. His chest rattles with small shallow breaths. He’s losing colour in his face and the source of it all: his visor is broken.

Spreading the length of Henry’s helmet is a large, but thin crack. It’s leaking air faster by the second. Henry’s struggling to make out any words, choking and gasping for air.

“Henry! Henry hold on.” I pull him in closer and tether his suit to mine.

“Base, Henry’s suit ruptured, something must have hit his helmet. I’m towing him back in now. Be ready with a medic.”

“Roger that, Carl.”

The crack is thin enough that we should make it back. I grab the tape from my pocket and slap a piece across Henry’s visor. It won’t help him breathe any better, but at least his suit will stop leaking air. Provided nothing else happens, we should make it back in the station and Henry can be saved. Just barely, but I have to try. And I have to go now.

“We got this, Henry, just stay with me. Try to breathe, okay.”

Henry gasps in his suit behind me. I start making the painfully slow way back to the airlock. These stupid jets won’t take me any faster than I’m already going, especially not with the extra weight tacked on. Why is there no boost on this suit to make me go faster? Can’t it tell that this is an emergency?

“Henry, try not to panic, okay, I’ve got you. Just breathe normally”

We’re halfway to the airlock when I turn around to check on Henry. I turn at the exact moment the pressure in his helmet finally outweighs the pressure of the void. The leaking air must have continued to build on the inside of his helmet somehow. Henry’s helmet cracks, a thick mar across his face, a fissure in the surface of his last safeguard. His eyes go wide and his hands reach out to me for help. His lips part in what might be his last words but he can’t quite make them out.

The face shield explodes. The force is sudden and jarring. I pull my hands up to my face to prevent any of the shards from impacting my helmet. There are thick pieces of glass floating around in the space between us. I pull Henry in closer, willing my suit to go any faster, but it’s no use.

In the last moments before the void takes him, I see Henry scream. His mouth opens wide and spit flies out. His purple lips shake with the force of his voice. The shards between our faces shudder with the impact, but I hear nothing. The tears in the corners of his eyes lift away and mingle with the debris. In his final moments, Henry lets out a guttural scream and no one hears it. No one can hear it, not in space, anyway.