Elegie in Moonlight

I am twirling through space in my soon-to-be coffin. Buried alive in the worst of ways. Although, anyone who has been buried alive in the traditional sense would say their situation is worse. But to that, I would say mine is more; Because it is I who am living through it.

I try to stay calm. I need to stay calm. Hyperventilating will only make things worse. Whether buried in the ground or spinning through the dark void of outer space, air is running out and soon I will be gasping, suffocating- No! I cannot think of that. I can feel my heart palpitating.

Thump thump, thump thump.

It goes on and on. I try to visualize if this suit- my impending casket, was fully charged when I grabbed it. I can’t remember if I took the fully charged one or if I handed it to Kirsty. Or maybe neither suit was fully charged. If fully charged, then I might have enough oxygen to last a couple hours. But if not, I will be trouble. I look down at the screen which should tell me my battery life and oxygen levels, but it is blacked out. When one thing goes wrong, everything else eventually follows.

It’s been a hectic week. There were power outages, collisions, and explosions. But none of that matters now. Or, perhaps it does, since it has led me to this moment. This singular moment where I slipped out of reach. Out of range. Out of hope. And now as I view through my visor the spaceship and the crew. And Kirsty. Growing smaller and smaller, and further and further away. They must be planning something, all those brilliant minds over there, working together to formulate a plan to rescue me.

Come save me. I stretch my arms out towards them. Please hurry. Its pathetic, I know, but what can I do?

I tell myself everything is going to be okay. This is just another obstacle that will eventually pass, and one day I’ll look back on it and wonder why I ever doubted that I would survive. I might even laugh at the memory.

Like that time the canoe flipped over and Mae and Tina were freaking out. Mae screaming into the waterlogged walkie-talkie as the chopping waves of Lake Hennessy splashed in our faces, chilling us and carrying us further away from the shore. This is not how I die, I remember saying to myself, as if I had a knowing intuition that that would not be how my story would end.

I remember my legs going numb from the cold as I paddled onto the inverted red canoe, and waved my oar over my head in hopes that someone on the lake or shore might see us. And come rescue us. Get down from there! The girls shout at me, but I don’t really know why. I’m higher up on top of the canoe. There’s no one in sight. This is not how I die.

Back in the water, I wave the paddle once more. If only it was red like the canoe, then maybe it could be seen. But it is wooden. Organic. A piece of driftwood jostling around in the choppy waves.

But I am calm because I know this is not how I die.

As the spaceship shrinks smaller and smaller, I search for the courage to say those words once more. This is not how I die. I’m terrified. I can’t. Maybe this is how I die. I notice my breathing is rapid, and close my eyes to focus on slowing it down. The vacuum of space carries me further and further away. Towards what? The centre of the universe? The end of it? Carrying in in the same way the current of Lake Hennessy was carrying us away from our friends on the shore towards the other side- although, if we hadn’t been rescued I really wonder if we’d have been alive or dead by the time we reached that other shore.

In that sweet,

By and by,

We shall meet on that

Beautiful shore

I can hear the choir from my childhood church singing. Only, there is no shore at the end of this vacuum. I don’t know what there will be. Death, if I don’t reach it before my oxygen runs out.

In that sweet,

By and by,

We shall meet on that

Beautiful shore

I can hear them. My eyes are wide and open and I know I am not dreaming. This is how it ends, isn’t it. Hallucinations. The end is beginning. The beginning of the end happens next. And how much longer until its over? I do not know. My chest is tight. My head is throbbing. The worst thing is that I always thought I’d die surrounded by love ones. And be old with a full life behind me. Not young and hopeful and on an adventure. This wasn’t supposed to happen. When I signed up for this mission, all I could see was the hope of a beautiful planet and the excitement of space travel. And finding the answers and explanation of my existence. There was always the risk of dying, sure. But not me. It wouldn't happen to me. I was certain. Bad things only happen to other people.

I had a classmate once in nursing school. Nazia. Beautiful smile, gorgeous hair, and on her way to be a great nurse just like me. I remember her sitting behind me while we rehearsed our graduation program and laughing at some stupid joke my friends and I made.

Anyways, we graduated, looked for jobs, and started working, all while losing contact with each other until that fateful day when I saw on social media that Nazia had died. While reading information for her funeral and viewing, I felt so confused. What happened? I went to our nursing class group page and learned that she died in a boating accident whilst on a vacation across Asia. I remember my eyes widening in shock. There had been a wave. The boat flipped over. Twelve people were cast into the water. One person dead. The wonderful kind nurse I graduated with had been the one to perish. It wasn't fair. I was twenty-three and she couldn't have differed much in age from me. She had a boyfriend, a family, the start of an adventure on the other side of the world with her friends. But it was all gone, taken away in an instant, with no chance to say goodbye.

In that sweet,

By and by,

We shall meet on that

Beautiful shore

I start singing aloud with the choir in my head. A tear wells up and falls from my eye. My nose sniffles, dripping to my lips. This stupid suit. I can’t wipe my face. I can’t do anything.

In that sweet,

By and by,

We shall meet on-

Kkkkhhhh

What was that?

Kkkkhhhh

“Isla?”

Kkkhhhh khhhh

“Isla? Are you there?”

“Oh my god! Yes! Yes I’m here!” I cry out. I’m ecstatic! Elated!

“Isla! We’re fixing the comms. We’re figuring something out.”

“Jess?” Now I have happy tears. I’m saved.

“Don’t worry, we’re coming to get you. Sit tight.”

“Hah! Okay, except I’m being carried away by a vacuum. Flying further and further away.”

“Just hang on.” A comforting male voice comes online, relief washes over me. “We’re coming.”

“Terry? Terry is that you?” Our Captain and saviour.

“Jess is gearing up to get you.”

“Gearing up?” I’m confused. The lifelines are not long enough to reach me, and even if the ship started moving again, someone would have to be outside standing there, reaching for me, and look how well that happened last time.

“Jess got the drone.”

“The drone!” I laugh in relief. I hadn’t thought of that before.

Suddenly I see the picture in my head of the rescue on Lake Hennessy. The men in the motor boat lifting me up out of the water. My legs weak from treading water for so long and fighting the currents, were more like dead weight. I remember shivering and crying, hunched over trying to keep the warmth in my core, and relieved that we were rescued. Just a little bit longer and I will feel that relief once more.

“He’s reconfiguring it right now.” Terry says with so much positivity in his voice.

But wait. Reconfiguring? A.K.A it might not work.

“Its the blast doors that are the real issue.” Terry explains, kicking my heart back in to a panic. “Should be fixed in a minute.”

All I can do is wait and pray.

But at least if communications are working, that means my suit’s back online.

I bring the digital screen on my arm up to my visor and see that I have ninety minutes of oxygen left. I don’t know how long I’ve been drifting through space, but I think an hour and a half is enough time for Jess to finish his adjustments and send the drone out to get me. Plenty of time.

Right?

You’re probably wondering why a nurse is on a space mission to a new planet. Not that any of the other space movies or books I’ve encountered ever bring up nurses. Whenever I’ve read sci-fi books in the past, nurses were barely ever mentioned. There’s always doctors and scientists and engineers and mechanics, but guess what? Doctors need nurses. And nurses need nurses. And we are not just nurses. We are trained for multiple jobs.

I am a nurse-mechanic, hence why I was on the outside of the spaceship, and how I got into this mess in the first place. There are four nurses on this vessel. Or were, until Dani’s preservation chamber crashed. Now there are three. But we have about three sleeper nurses who will be awakened once we reach our destination. Their expertise is not applicable to our space flight, but if I am not rescued, the crew will have to wake them up for training. Except, if we don’t fix the glitches that are killing the sleepers in their pods, we will have to wake everyone, and that will be a disaster. I know the exact number of Sleepers, because I check on them every day, and I am telling you there’s not enough room on this vessel. Not enough food, and not enough oxygen. Not for everyone to be awake all at once.

Typical me, planning how the crew will manage once I’m gone.

We have doctors aboard, and scientists, engineers, mechanics, botanists, and a whole lot more. Almost everyone is trained for more than one profession, so that if anything happens to the expert, we are not screwed without that person.

Members of the crew take shifts between Sleeping for a couple years, and working for a couple years. That way no one will be ancient by the time we arrive. The Sleepers will remain in deep sleep for the duration of the trip, only to be awakened after landing. They are the miners, construction workers, smiths, masons, artisans, and farmers.

Everyone can perform CPR and first aid. Active crew can understand different parts of the ship and how it works. And we are all learning how to manage the multiple controls that go into flying this thing. At least, thats what we all thought. Because right now, the ship isn’t working, and none of us can figure it out. Our captain and first mate, whose jobs are to know absolutely everything about the ship, are completely stumped.

Everything is breaking or malfunctioning. If it isn't the lights, its the computers. If it isn't the preservation chambers busting, its a meteor shower bombarding us causing all sorts of damage. And thats why I was outside.

I was outside with Kirsty, the mechanic- physicist. We were sent to repair and replace a panel that was hit by a meteor. It was impossibly to reach from inside, and we desperately needed to cover it and examine the damage before more of the ship started malfunctioning.

“Listen up crew, if we want any chance of reaching our new home,” Captain Terry Rauld said at our last team meeting, “we need a team to go outside and assess the damage. We need a team inside to figure out the ignitor, another to check the electrical, all while Cam and I work out the computers.”

And then the lights flickered. We needed to fix this now if we didn’t want to have to wake everyone in their Sleepers. Why wake them up if we’re all going to die anyways.

I remember being conflicted with myself on how I would prefer to die in their situation. Would I rather wake up and be panicked in my final moments? Or would I rather die in my sleep where my last memories are of the nursing team tucking me in and hooking me up to my pod, and closing the glass-titanium domes over me saying “Have a nice sleep” or “See ya on the other side” or some other stupid nonsense. I’m sure they all thought when they’d wake up we’d be passing some gorgeous nebula and about to land on our new planet. Or the first thing they’d see would be the glorious landscapes and colony of our new home. In any case, they went to sleep with the faith that they would awaken. How would I have rather died? Look at me now. I have no say in the matter.

I remember the day we put everyone to sleep, Dani and Kirsty included. The technology was so meticulous, as well as having to monitor everyone’s vitals. We put them to sleep before we took off, a land crew was onboard to assist with the process. Every day since then, we’ve been checking the Sleepers’ vital statistics, adjusting dials and whatnot to ensure everyone remains in a stable stasis. All had been well until the meteor shower. Or was it when we crossed that one stormy nebula and may have been exposed to an electrical- wait, does that even happen in space? I’m no physicists, and I don’t know what is truly responsible for our troubles. But whatever it was, it started a domino effect which led to our live-mechanic being electrocuted while fixing some wiring while I was checking on the Sleepers. He shouldn't have been by himself. He was cold by the time we found him. And that led to us to having to wake up Kirsty, our Sleeper mechanic-physicist. And right now, I am regretting choosing her.

She should be the one spinning through space, not me. If I had chosen another mechanic, things might have gone different. If I hadn’t volunteered for the spacewalk this wouldn't be happening to me.

Kkkkhhhhhhhhhhh

“Isla?”

I know that voice. Its her. Its-

“Its me, Kirsty.”

“Kirsty?” I whisper as I start crying all over again. I remember her gloved hand reaching for mine. And mine reaching for hers.

“I’m so sorry,” she weeps. We both know everyone can hear us. I want to be mad. I want to cry. I want to hold her close. I want to scream and rip her hair out. But I can’t because I look at the monitor on my arm and see that I’m running out of time. I’m running out of oxygen.

I can’t be mad at her. It wasn’t her fault.

____________________________________________________

“I can’t believe we’re doing a spacewalk!” I shriek as we walk down the corridor to where the suits are kept. “Wish it were under better circumstances.” Kirsty smiles.“Really, If it was under better circumstances, there wouldn't even be a spacewalk.” I snort. We are lucky. How many people can say that they have walked on this spaceship, IN SPACE! I mean, we were in space this entire time, but have not been outside in actual space space until now.

The lights go out. That means we need to wait for the power to turn back on for the doors to open. Finally, after three minutes, the motion sensors are operational again. We suit up.

These suits are so cool. State of the art and so high tech. We clip on our safety lifelines, and turn on the magnetic boots. Each glove is fitted with a button that deactivates the magnets. Left glove button for left boot. Right glove button for right boot. In order to lift your leg and walk, you need to deactivate the magnet. And unless deactivated, the magnets are always on. It's a safety thing.

After double checking all the safety parameters, we open the blast doors and then STOMP STOMP STOMP slowly make our way from the doors to the site of the the broken panel.

We fixed it. We configured the wiring and replaced the panel. Which was great, except then our comms started cutting out.

“More electrical problems inside.” I said, then realized that since the comms weren’t working, Kirsty couldn't hear me even while standing at my side. I remember practicing performing ship repairs in the training pool on earth. You could still hear the other astronaut shout. They told us in space no one hears you scream.

Instead, I signalled that we should head back in.

We were walking side by side until the button in my right glove wasn’t releasing my right boot magnet. I was stuck in place. We never considered the suits might glitch too. Everything else was going wrong. Why not add the suits to the mix.

I looked over at Kirsty to see if she was having the same problem as me, but she wasn't beside me anymore. I twisted around and saw she was behind a few paces, both boot magnets had turned off and she was raising up from the spaceship.

My heart skipped in my chest. I reached for her lifeline. I tried to reach it, but my boots were glued to the ship. I was flailing for her.

I got it. I had her lifeline in my hand and I yanked it. In that moment, my boots came undone. Both of them. But in my yanking her, she descended to the ship and I rose right up and up and up. A see-saw effect. I flailed around once more and saw that the clasp that held me to my lifeline had come undone.

In that moment my stomach lurched. I could see Kirsty’s boots were firmly grounded to the ship. She had my line in her hand. She was zipping her line out to get me. But her boot magnets wouldn't come undone. She reached her hand out to me. Finger touching finger. Glove touching glove. I was screaming and screaming and crying and I could see she was too. The look of horror on her face. By the time her magnets deactivated and she was zipping her lifeline further and further out towards me, I was too far out of range. She’d never reach me with her line. She just hung there, in the emptiness of space, like a balloon on a string. Her hand stretched out towards me. She grew smaller and smaller and smaller, just like the ship behind her. And I was spinning and twirling into the black void of space.

Why did I reach for her? She would have been fine.

I don’t know how much time passed before Kirsty reeled herself back in. I don’t know how much time we wasted just staring at each other when we could have been- when she could have been getting me help.

“Isla?” The comms came back on. “Are you still there?”

“Is the drone coming?” I ask, daring to hope.

Silence. The only thing I hear is the sound of blood rushing in my ears. My heart was pounding fierce. I looked at the oxygen reading. Fifteen minutes.

Shit.

“Is the fucking drone coming?” I scream for the twentieth time.

Kkkkkhhhhh Kkkkkkkkhhhhhhhhhh

I am going to fucking die out here.

Kkkkhhh Kkkkhhh

“The drone is coming. The drone is coming!” They’re yelling from the other side.“I’m running out of time.” I’m weeping now. “I don’t even know how far away I am. How long is it going to take?”

“I don’t know. But we’re coming.”

All of a sudden I see the image of my mother on her phone with my father calling her from a restaurant saying “I’m already in the car!” when in reality, she was still in the bathroom putting her powder on, her hair still in curlers. We’re going to be late. We’re always late.

“I’m going to die. This is how I die.”

“You’re not going to die. Everything is going to be okay.” They lie. Everything is not going to be okay. I think of all the patients I’ve had. All the deaths I’ve seen. The first one really gets you hard. You vomit. You cry. It eventually gets better. And then different people have different beliefs about death. Different rituals. Some families sneak in the pets, some sneak in the alcohol. Some people need a window to be opened so that the spirit of the dead can escape the room and be free. Who will open my window and set my spirit free? All I have is my visor. And unless I smash it, its not going to open. If my spirit is stuck here how will I haunt the crew? How will I haunt Kirsty? If only a life after death was possible.

After someone dies in the hospital, I make them look nice- er, presentable. I lay them flat, close their eyes, or at least try to. The movies make it looks so much easier than is realistic. I try to close the mouth too. Its not easy. Death isn’t pretty. We take off the IVs, the oxygen tubing, etcetera etcetera. I try to make them look more human. More peaceful. I pull the white sheet up to their chest, hands out for their families to hold. And then I allow the friends and family their time.

After everyone leaves, I go back in with the body bag. As I turn the body over, the last of the air escapes the lungs. Gastric fluids leak from out of the mouth. Gases too. The extremities are cold, and all the heat of the deceased has pooled to their back. I slide the bag under the body and turn it the other way. Sometimes, with a tall person, I have to cram the head and legs inside. We have bags for overweight people too. Can you imagine? I tie the tag to a toe and zip up the bag. Off to the morgue you go.

But there will be no aftercare for me. No body bag. I’m already in it. No morgue. Unless the cold dark hell of space counts. And lastly, no viewing, no funeral. No final goodbye. No family and friends to hold my hand and weep over my cold dead body.

I look at the oxygen reading. Five minutes. Tears are streaming down my face. Please. Please. I beg. A part of me just wants it to be over. The waiting is torture.

I wonder if my body will rot in my sterile suit. Or perhaps I’ll look the same in a hundred years- visions fill my head of mummified remains that they find in archeological digs. Perhaps in a millennium some alien life form will encounter my suit sailing through space. Maybe they’ll open me up and wonder how I came to be like that. Or perhaps some future spaceship will pick me up. Maybe they’ll remember me. Perhaps they’ll even search for me like Amelia Earhart. Maybe I’ll finally have a resting place.

I’ll never get married, like we planned. I’ll never give birth like I’ve always dreamed. I’ll never see the new planet. I’ll never feel his kiss on my lips, his warmth in my embrace. All I have is this stupid suit that has failed me.

50 seconds. 49, 48, 47...

I watch the countdown and try to gauge how much time I can survive without oxygen. A minute? I know the experts say three minutes, but I’m asthmatic with weak lungs. I can no longer control the rate of my breathing. Adrenalin and all its panic corse through my veins. I have given in to it. “Stay with me.” I plead. “I don’t have much time left.”

Kkkkhhhhh Kkkkkkhhhh

“We’re here. We’re all here.”

“I’m all alone.”

“No. We are here. The drone is coming.”

“Tell him I love him. Tell him I tried.”

“We will. We will.”

“Tell me a story please.”

"What?”

“Talk to me.Tell me what state the ship is in. Please. I need it. What have you guys been doing?” I say as I mute my mic. I do not want them to hear me suffer.

...3, 2, 1.

“Okay, Cam fixed the computer and the preservation chambers are mostly stabilized.

I start hyperventilating even more. I need air. It's all around me; only, it has now become the wrong kind of air. I am panicking, my mind is burning, on the verge of exploding.

“We were all working on the drone and the blast doors. The oxygen is working now. And the panel you fixed helped the electricity. The lights aren’t flickering anymore. Just- we don’t know whats going on with the blast doors. Something’s jamming it. We are coming to get you.”

I am gasping, straining to breathe. Is this worse than drowning? My eyes are wide and burning with fiery tears. My lungs cannot expand; there is nothing to fill them. My lungs are on fire. I’m flailing as if I might be able to reach some secret pocket of oxygen and take a deep breath. Would it have been better to fall off of a thousand foot cliff? Or burn at the stake? Or drown in the lake? There is no choose your own adventure when it comes to dying a horrible death.

“When we get you in, everything’s going to be great. You can even sleep in the pod if you want. We’re going to haul out the Christmas dinner when you get back.”

My vision fades but my eyes are wide, possibly wider than my mouth is. My body jerks uncontrollably. I can still hear them, although their words are fading. Is that music I hear? The hymn turns from quiet to screaming, a cacophony of terror.

“It will be cause enough for celebration, and we know its your favourite. We’ll even pop a bottle of champagne.”

Kkkhhhhhhhh Kkkkkkkhhhhhhhhhhhhh

“Isla?”

“Isla come in.”

“Isla are you there?”