A Step Ahead
The space suit was heavy. It weighed down what seemed a hundred times more than what he was used to. The helmet was twice the size of his head. The boots almost pinned him to the ground and each step was harder to take. The good thing was that once outside the atmosphere, the burdens eased into some simple inconveniences of movement.
One million dollars. That was what he was worth. At least that was what he had been offered: one million, to risk his life and go out, into space. Compared to the discovery and the possibilities, the number was irrelevant. The idea of taking that step beyond what was known seemed much more important. It was irresistible, it was appealing to the point of needing to find out more than he was afraid of death. To be able to see what it was like in the universe – it was a value unreachable by any man on the planet, at that moment in time. It could not be measured in money. It was priceless.
Anyway, he considered money just a means to achieve something, not a purpose in itself. The monetary device seemed a material system that obviously didn't benefit the world in terms of fairness, evolution or elevation. It was a power that didn't function properly as intended, that was misused too often, encouraging greed, conflicts, materialistic goals, deceit and dark intentions. He thought there could have been a better way, for sure – but not in that time, not with that general mentality, not that soon anyway. He was aware the prize of being out there in space was not the money back on earth, but the chance to be more, to see more, to experience and find out what it was like in the outer universe. To get closer to the mystery of life. It was a step forward. Something was calling him from beyond.
He didn't know if he would be able to return to the planet. However, he chose to go.
On earth, he had the persistent sensation that he weighed more than he should. Everything was heavier than necessary. Objects were denser than he envisioned them. Surfaces seemed opaque and thick. Isolation of matter in itself was strange. He needed to see the flow of life – and sometimes he could, with open eyes, in daylight. Waves and waves of energy would swish through the air, spreading around and into the distance. He expected to be able to fly and somehow it seemed unfair that he couldn't. Something was not right – but that was the order of things and time.
I'm in the wrong century, he sometimes thought to himself, feeling as if the wrong coat was limiting his freedom. He lived in an obscure past of a world that he saw as far away from how it should have been. I'm in the wrong time. I was born too soon, in a century that is not right for me. I belong in the future , he thought more frequently than he wanted.
The suit was heavy on earth. And it was cold out in space.
The cold – that was what he didn't expect. The insulation of the fabric that was supposed to be designed for any temperature did not achieve its purpose. The cold got to his body. It got into his bones. It was so harsh, that he could feel the life run out of him, evaporating from his chest as he kept breathing, trying to fix the satellite, watched by the stars above, in the silent dark distance. The cold was biting, stinging, surrounding, enveloping, engulfing and extracting the last bit of warmth and energy from him, an endless sponge that had no saturation. The void was cold. The void, however, was not absent of intent: it seemed to win intentionally against life and warmth. It was an implacable power and he didn't have the strength to resist forever in that cold. He knew that. One million dollars, he thought again. So insignificant. And yet, that was not the reason why he was there, outside in the universe, alone in the dark silence.
His hands were getting stiff, moving clumsily in the huge gloves that could not prevent his fingers from freezing. He knew it was just a matter of time before the cold would extinguish the last warmth in his breath. And again, time seemed the issue: he had the wrong tools, in the wrong turn of century. Everything seemed unfinished, primitive, dense, opaque, hostile. There's has to be a better way. He knew everything could be different. But it would not get better in just a century. It wouldn't get better in an hour. And he needed things to get better fast. Right away.
And then, the answer was visible. It was closer. It was unexplained and miraculous, as existence itself.
The satellite was turning above the planet, from the somber shadow to the rays of the sun. Suspended over the dark bluish foggy ball where he had come from, he watched the empty space between brightening gradually. There wasn't only sunlight reaching the metal that his gloves were stuck on. His arms and shoulders had gotten stiff with the cold, frost still biting his bones. He couldn't move, yet the warmth arrived slowly above his helmet. There was more than light: there was unspoken energy, particles of electricity. There was something else too: a voice that he could hear.
“Come home”, the light seemed to whisper.
He didn't know if it was because the frost had reached his brain and was creating visions, or if there was indeed something in the light that revived him and warmed his suit. He took a hand off the metal skeleton of the outside structure of the satellite. He raised his arm towards the light. He was still stuck to the metal with a cable, but he suddenly felt free and his mind cleared of the dense darkness and cold. He freed his other hand too. Only the cable remained to hook him in place. He floated away from it, reaching for the sunlight.
The satellite kept turning and the light slowly started to get paler, fading behind the silent steel. There was the shadow again. He struggled to keep his body in the brightness, swimming in space, moving around with difficulty.
“I'm here!” he growled under the helmet. “Don't go!”
As the satellite was turning again, the light spread once more around him. The particles were almost making the cold dissipate.
And then the cable dragged him under again, into the cold dark. He kept rotating with the satellite, over and over, exposed to the freezing obscurity and then returned to warming light. Yet the time spent in the sun range was not enough to maintain his vital functions. He was dizzy, but aware he could not last too long if he didn't detach the cable and be free. He didn't think of returning into the station. There was no guarantee the equipment would function properly. His mind was suddenly focused only on getting closer to the sunlight – and remaining there.
“Come with me” the light seemed to whisper. “Are you with me or not?”
“I am!”
He didn't know if he said the words, or he just heard them in his mind. “I 'm the one who is alive. I am the one who is!”
“I know you are. And you belong with me.”
The light flowed in warm waves. It reminded him of freedom and happiness, of harmony and flight. It was something essential that he needed to return to. It was as if he had been estranged from it for so many years, and it suddenly appeared close. He struggled to unhook the cable. He shook it with both hands, gathering the energy that he had left. The cable was stubbornly not yielding. And there was the darkness again, with its cold, menacing emptiness. The void was relentless and hungry. The void was trying to engulf his energy, to breathe the life out of him. He felt tired. His arms were sore from the effort and the frost. He needed rest. He floated for a while, looking blankly at the view that kept changing: blinding sun, deep darkness, alternating endlessly. “What is beautiful in this world?” he suddenly wondered. The blue planet under his suspended feet reminded him of familiar things: water flowing, green leaves growing, horizon of changing colors, rainbows, shiny eyes, smiles and a clear free sky, the moon at night with distant stars and the mysterious beyond. It all seemed so far away. It seemed like a dream. It was so easy to close his eyes and run visions in his mind, letting go of any strain. It was so easy to slip into oblivion... to slow down his breathing and fall asleep.
And then he remembered the tools he had at his belt. He took the cutting pliers and started to gnaw at the cable. The oxygen in the tank on is back was getting thinner.
“Hurry, come on”, the light spread over his helmet.
He finally cut the cable and let go of the metal station, moving his arms towards the light overflowing in the universe. His eyes became the light and he became one with the sun.