See You On The Other Side
by Gregory Cioffi
Eleanor Foster sat bedside beside her husband. She gazed upwards
towards the marvels of modern medicine and then back down towards her
bandaged beloved. As the heart monitor beeped in succession, Tyler
slowly opened his eyes. The first sight he saw was that of Foster and
an immeasurable smile crossed his face.
“Hey there,” she whispered.
He nodded, unable to speak.
If she was being completely honest with herself, Foster did not know
what to say. She didn’t want him to think she was speaking in
pleasantries; he would hate that. Nor did she want to talk about his
prognosis. So instead, she was candid.
“You know what I was just thinking about? Remember when I was going
through advanced training and it was parabolic flight time?” Foster
couldn’t help but smirk at the memory. “I tried so hard the entire time
to hold it in despite the insane constant motion sickness. It was my
first time in a microgravity environment that wasn’t a virtual reality
exercise. And I did hold it all in. Until I got home.” She let out an
audible chuckle. “Your face was priceless. It was like you there
thinking, how could so much come up from one person?”
Foster could see Tyler smiling too.
Foster shook her head. “I know it’s a stupid thing to think about, but I’ll just never forget that look on your face.”
She instantly realized the foreboding nature of her comment but before she could say anything, the nurse walked in.
“Good afternoon Mrs. Foster,” the nurse remarked as he checked the
readings. In a warm and understanding tone he remarked, “Would you like
me to turn on the communication aid? That way you could talk to Tyler
for a bit.”
“That would be great, thank you.”
The nurse activated the speech-generating device that takes one’s
thoughts and synthesizes them into speech, and subsequently exited the
room.
“Hey there,” Foster bubbly initiated.
A crisp but unfamiliar voice answered, “You look so pretty.”
“No I don’t you liar,” she responded with a grin.
“I see they have this thing on the classic Stephen Hawking voice mode.”
“I think it fits you.”
“It’s better than glasses. I feel smarter already.”
“I haven’t seen a pair of glasses in a decade.”
“You were wearing a pair when I met you.”
“That’s right. I was.”
“Eleanor?”
“You know I hate it when you call me that.”
“You know that’s why I do it.”
“Ridiculous. What is it?”
“Do I have memory loss?”
She hesitated before answering, “Yes. Mostly short term.”
He hesitated before responding, “That makes sense. I don’t remember how I got here.”
“Well-“
“-No. I don’t want to know.”
“Okay.”
“Tell me what’s going on in the world. Anything exciting?”
“What’s the last thing you remember?”
“Well I recall we just invented the wheel…”
“I’m glad your sense of humor hasn’t gone.”
“By the looks of it, it’s one of the few things that hasn’t.”
An air of silence reverberated the truth of the statement.
Tyler broke the tension. “I remember we punched a hole in space-time.”
“We did! We created an artificial wormhole.”
“What’s going on with that?”
“Well, actually, a lot. We sent a manned shipped through it.”
Tyler awaited her to tell him she was kidding but when she didn’t, he confirmed, “You’re serious.”
“I am. It’s an amazing time.”
An overwhelming feeling of reverence engulfed the room, as both Foster
and Tyler never felt so much in tune with the present as in that
moment. The wonderment was broken as the nurse re-entered the room.
“I hope you guys had a good chat! You can continue the conversation soon but right now Tyler does need his rest.”
Foster smiled and nodded while peering back at her suffering spouse.
“Talk soon, my love,” she said. “I’m going to get a sandwich or something.”
In the synthetic voice, Tyler responded, “Well then, it must be launch time. Ha. Ha. Ha. Get it?”
Foster rolled her eyes while laughing; a rare combination Tyler was somehow always able to accomplish.
*****
Foster dropped her newly poured coffee onto the floor, spilling it everywhere.”
“Dammit!” she muttered.
She looked around for a handful of napkins when she noticed the news
was on in the waiting room. She turned to it as it caught her ear.
“The world is still awaiting a response from the manned spacecraft
Tunnel I which entered the Einstein-Rosen Bridge a little under a week
ago. Meanwhile, the wormhole itself has become increasingly unstable
and is shrinking in size to the bafflement of the scientific community.
It is believed that, at this time, it is impossible for the ship to
re-emerge on our side of the opening. We, of course, do not have any
idea where the spacecraft actually ended up and so we continue to wait.
The expected method of communication is said to be that of light
pulses. For the layman like myself, I sat down with astronaut Eleanor
Foster last month to explain what this means. Let us replay that
footage.”
Foster detested looking at herself on television but had completely
forgotten about this interview. She watched herself next to the news
anchor.
“Yes, we can communicate through light pulses and what we really
mean by that is radio waves. Radio waves are just light with a range of
low frequencies, which makes them easier to pass through solid objects,
like for instance planets that are in the way, than higher frequency
light and don’t require a direct line of sight between transmitter and
receiver. SETI does this all the time while searching for intelligent
life in the universe – you would simply have to be searching the sky
with a radiotelescope.”
“And, if you don’t mind me asking, what does that exactly entail for those of us who might not know?”
“Of course. So information is transmitted via patterns of varying
intensity of the wave. There’s amplitude modulated which we commonly
refer to as AM, right, like when we listen to talk radio. Or there’s
varying frequency, which we call FM, if you’re in the mood to listen to
music. If you recognized the patterns to be similar to music or talk
radio signals, you could run it through a speaker and listen. That’s
the basic concept.”
“So you’re saying we will be able to receive actual messages from your fellow astronauts?”
“That’s correct.”
“And how sure are you that this will work?”
“Well, it works in theory. The problem is, of course, that we have
never attempted to communicate with ourselves in such a way.”
“But you did attempt to communicate this way when the wormhole was first opened, is that correct?”
“Yes, we did.”
“And you didn’t hear anything back, correct?”
“Correct. That, of course, doesn’t mean the communication itself
didn’t work; it’s very possible that there was no one there to hear the
messages. And even if there were, they might not understand our
messages nor know how to properly respond.”
“Well, there you have it. Pilot and Commander Eleanor Foster.”
“Let me take care of that, ma’am.”
Foster turned to realize she was standing in a puddle of her own spilt coffee and a janitor was now beside her.
“I’m so sorry, it was-”
“-No apologies. Honest. Allow me.”
She felt alleviated by the janitor’s understanding and nodded. As she
took a step back, her phone started ringing. Foster unwrapped her
mobile device from her wrist, placed it to her ear, and answered it.
“Yea?”
“Foster? It’s Kennedy. We need you to come down.”
“You know that’s not possible right now,” she responded sullenly.
“I don’t think you understand. We just got something.”
“What do you mean something?” There was silence over the phone. “You’re talking about a message.”
“That’s right. That’s all I can say over the phone.”
Eleanor Foster peered through her husband’s hospital room window. He
was sleeping soundly. She was fully aware his days were numbered and
she believed he knew it too despite his refusal to discuss it. The last
thing she ever wanted to do was not be there for him as he had made it
his lifework to be there for her. As much as she didn’t like to readily
admit it, the lives of her close friends and colleagues on that
spacecraft just didn’t seem as important as Tyler’s.
Foster’s head slowly descended as she closed her eyes. She found herself rubbing her temples when she heard it.
“Go.”
She darted up and checked her surroundings. No one was around. She
looked at Tyler in the bed. Could it have been him? No. Impossible.
More likely sleep deprivation had taken hold; she probably heard her
own sub-conscious.
With an exhausted exhale, Foster knew only one thing for certain: she was completely unsure of what to do.
*****
Mission control center was abuzz when Foster arrived. Her presence was
felt immediately as all the staffers turned to look at the treasured
astronaut. She could feel them slightly eased by her appearance
although she wished they had no idea who she was.
White Team Flight Director Thomas Kennedy barreled his way towards Foster.
“Thank you for coming,” he said with an admixture of warmth and concern.
“Let me hear it,” she sternly responded.
“Of course. Conference room.”
They entered the conference room, which was occupied by about a dozen
people. Some were familiar faces to Foster; some were not. She
recognized the scientists but not the four-starred military general.
“Please sir,” insisted Kennedy.
Foster did so with a wave of apprehension. The faces around the table
were bewildered. She suddenly realized they were all looking towards
her for guidance in whatever she was about to hear.
“Firstly, let me just speak for everyone when I say how truly sorry we
all are about Tyler and the accident. We wouldn’t have dragged you down
here if we didn’t think it vital.”
“Give it to me,” Foster countered with a stone-cold strength.
“As you obviously know, last week we sent a manned spacecraft through
the wormhole. Our readings suggested that the trip was successful in
that we do not detect the ship in the wormhole nor do we detect any
signs of wreckage. The ship made it through. Since then we have been in
the dark, so to speak, in terms of communication.”
“Until now,” Foster added.
“This morning our radio telescope picked something up.”
“A message,” Foster urged.
“A very garbled one,” the general intervened.
Foster looked around the room and anxiously remarked, “Well. What does it say?”
“We were only able to decipher one word,” Kennedy continued. “Heaven.”
Foster’s instinctual reaction was to chuckle, quite loudly. At first
she concluded this was all a ruse, an attempt to make her crack a
smile. Very quickly, however, she realized this was not at all a joke.
“You’re serious,” she reaffirmed.
“Play the message,” Kennedy instructed.
A young, scrawny NASA employee did as he was told.
Static began broadcasting.
“The message is 18 seconds long,” Kennedy said. “At 9 seconds, you’ll hear it.”
Foster listened intently. For the first few moments, linguistic
remnants were lost behind ungraspable interference. And then the 9th
secomd hit and she heard it. Heaven.
As clear as day. There were no emotional connotations behind the word
either, it was not said happily or amazedly. It was completely neutral,
matter of fact. The garble afterwards continued to play out until the
recording finished.
Foster leaned back in her chair, entrenched in her own thoughts. When
she looked up, in that tension fueled air, she saw everyone, one again,
looking at her.
“Was that Elliot?” Foster asked. “It sounded like him.”
“Vocal recognition confirms that it is definitely Elliot,” Kennedy answered.
“Okay,” Foster exclaimed while taking a deep breath. “What are we
really talking about here? Surely you guys aren’t postulating that we
ripped a hole is space-time, went through it, and ended up in the holy
kingdom of God?”
“No,” Kennedy quickly answered.
“Why not?” the general rebutted.
“Because that’s insane,” insisted Foster.
“That doesn’t mean it can’t be true” another scientist chimed in.
“Improbable yes. Unbelievable yes. Impossible no. We, as scientists,
don’t discuss the notion of a supreme being because there’s absolutely
no evidence for it. This could change that.”
“Are we really having this conversation?” Foster snapped.
“Why not? What is not scientifically tractable today may be so
tomorrow. That is literally what makes the voyage of discovery so
intriguing.”
“Stop,” bolstered Foster. “I agree with what you are saying and I
acknowledge that perhaps science alone cannot yield a complete picture
of reality. However, this is not evidence. This is a word in a sentence
that we don’t understand. Let’s not take it out of context when we
don’t even know what the context is. I know Elliot better than anyone
here. He’s a jokester and a prankster. This could simply be part of his
sense of humor.”
“I agree,” Kennedy assured. “But when this gets out to the public-“
“-Why would this get out to the public?” Foster demanded.
“My thoughts are with the commander,” the general added.
“It seems to me inevitable,” Kennedy answered.
“Think of what that would do,” Foster urged. “You’d have every major religion attempting to claim this heaven as their heaven and the god that dwells there within as their
god. We would make extremists and fundamentalists so paranoid that they
would convince themselves that this whole event is some sort of
trickery conjured up by the devil, or worse, by us! We would probably
be attacked and shut down.”
“You’re probably right,” stated the general. “That’s why we’re not telling them until after your launch.”
Foster went numb.
“Excuse me?”
“You are in charge of the Tunnel II team, are you not?” the general asked.
Kennedy intervened, “This isn’t how we wanted to tell you.”
Foster, flabbergasted, asked, “You’re sending me through?”
“Your mission will be both search and rescue and reconnaissance in nature,” the general answered.
Foster looked around at the worrisome faces. “You’re sending me on a fool’s errand.”
“That’s what you signed up for,” the general remarked.
Foster turned to the general with a certain level of disdain. “With all
due respect general, allow me to be perfectly frank. When the wormhole
was constructed, I proposed unmanned missions in the name of science
using the most up-to-date rovers and robotics. What happened? China
announced manned missions. Then someone like you showed up and out of a
geo-political decision it was pronounced that we too would send people
through. NASA suddenly saw a budget again and off we went on the second
great space race. And what happened? The space stations were declared
neutral. People became interested in our endeavors once more. And we
beat China. We sent a ship through. They cancelled their human
spaceflight program as a result and our mission shifted ever so
slightly from being one of science to one of exploration. And now we
have a ship out there without having any inkling of where there truly
is!”
“This is all true,” responded the general in a calmness that only
further aggravated Foster. “And now the question is: what are we going
to do about it? We’re certainly not going to leave them behind – that would seem extremely improper and cowardice.”
Kennedy added, “We don’t know what condition our colleagues or their
equipment are in. We’re, of course, going to try to decipher this
message further but there exists a strong possibility that we wont be
able to.”
The general continued, “The contingency plan is clear and has been laid
out by you fine people. We succeeded in our mission. Now go through and
get everyone back safe and sound. And just so you know, I’m not
disagreeing with you, commander. You’re right, about everything. And if
this heaven tidbit gets out I think it safe to say that you might never get a chance to go through. Out of compromise, the next mission will be comprised of scientists and theologians alike.”
“If there is a next mission,” Kennedy countered. “It might be
determined that we are unnaturally playing God; messing with the
universe in a way that we were never meant to do. They might label
science blasphemy. Funding would be the first thing to go. Everything
would be shut down. Our astronauts would be lost.”
“This is all so ridiculous,” Foster blurted out. “The wormhole isn’t even stable. It’s shrinking.”
“It’s fluctuating,” corrected Kennedy. “Our calculations predict it
will expand again and we’re working on stabilizing it for a longer
duration of time. Eleanor-“
“-Don’t call me that.”
Kennedy appeared flustered. “You have ran the wormhole simulations more
than anyone else and with great success. You’re the most qualified
commander we have. We wont send you in if the journey isn’t safe.”
Foster threw her hands up is a confused disbelief while very well understanding the gravity of the situation.
*****
Tyler gazed at his wife, who was blatantly distracted within the
confines of her own mind. His instinct was to nudge forward but his
body disallowed him to do so. He was ecstatic, however, that for the
time being he could speak without the communication aid.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“How soon would you leave?”
“Soon. Too soon. Tell me you don’t want me to go and I wont.”
“You know I can’t do that. But I just want to point out that a mission
like this is the one you’ve been waiting for your entire life. It’s
life-changing on a historic scale.”
“Things are different now.”
“Why? Because of this?” Tyler asked as he pointed to the medical
technologies surrounding him. “Listen; let us be perfectly honest here.
We all know the outcome of what will happen in this room. No one knows
what is going to happen out there and you have an opportunity to save
lives.”
“Somehow that just doesn’t seem to make it better. I don’t want you to be alone.”
“I wont be,” he assured. And who knows, maybe I’ll still be here when
you get back. Ready to do what I do best: annoy you the very second I
see you.”
“You don’t annoy me,” Foster exclaimed.
“I’ll try harder then.”
She chuckled. “The opposite choice, of you not being here, doesn’t seem to be worth the risk.”
“Well then let us hope I am right and you are wrong.”
“In regards to?”
“An afterlife.”
Foster chose her words carefully. “I never stated one didn’t exist. I
have just said I see no evidence for it. Let’s not talk about this.”
“It’s okay. I want to. Because at the end of it, there will either be
one, or there wont be. Maybe it is, as you say, just comforting to
believe in it. I guess this morphine is also just a comfort at the end
of the day. But I’m still glad it’s here. I confess that just because I
believe heaven is there, doesn’t make it true. I just hope it is.”
Foster looked deep into Tyler’s eyes’ as the notion of comfort never
seemed so relieving. Eventually she turned away in her attempt to keep
her composure. She looked up, staring at the ceiling for no particular
reason.
“Go,” said a voice.
Foster darted downwards, unsure if what she just heard came from her husband.
“Speak your mind,” Tyler begged. “ And tell the truth!” he added in a light tone.
Foster did not want to say it but Tyler’s countenance adjured it.
“I can only be honest with you.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“I don’t believe heaven exists. But for the first time in my life, I hope I’m very wrong.”
Foster found her lacrimal gland, which rested in-between her eyelids
and eyeballs, suddenly activated. She instinctively blinked and could
feel that upcoming symptom of sadness, one of the human body’s more
confounding mysteries. Vulnerability triggered as a tear peeked out
from her lid and inexplicably rolled down her check.
She surrendered into his amiable arms as Tyler viewed this misty loving
signal, an extraordinarily uncommon event, as proof of the
uncontrollable and marvelous love she had for him. They stayed locked
in this position for what, at the time, seemed as long as humanly
possible. Tyler had always imagined the afterlife as a state of pure
joy and in that perceived lifelong moment, he understood the concept of
Heaven on Earth. Part of him even suspected that if he was indeed wrong
in his belief, this brief period in time might just prove to be enough.
Still, he kept thinking, if only they had just a little while longer.
15 Days Later
Eleanor Foster walked into the Launch Control Center in Hawthorne,
California. Behind her was her trusted team and crew, ahead of her a
plethora of NASA doctors, scientists, and employees. She raised her
right hand and saluted.
“Commander Foster reporting for duty.”
*****
Tyler watched the television intently from his hospital bed. His eyes
wandered towards the small table beside him where he had a framed
picture of Foster, a single rose, and an unopened gift-box. The
newscaster reported the happenings.
“We are just moments away from the launch that will send Commander
Eleanor Foster and a small crew into space and through the artificial
wormhole. Their mission, a simple one: find the USS Tunnel and its
crew, retrieve them, and report back to our solar system. As reported,
we have not heard from the spacecraft since its entrance into and
through the wormhole. NASA has repeatedly said that they have every
reason to believe that the ship survived its journey despite the loss
of communications. Oh, and it looks as if we’re ready to launch! Here
we go! T-30 seconds!”
*****
Tyler’s heart was practically beating out of his chest. He attempted to
take deep breaths and was frustrated by his inability to control his
body as he once did. He watched painstakingly as the ten-second count
commenced. If his fingers could move they would be clenched in a fist.
He closed his eyes and exhaled with exuberance until he heard:
“Liftoff!”
*****
“Here we go!” yelled Foster from the cockpit.
She and her team thrust upwards as the ship speedily exited the
atmosphere. They all marveled at the blurred borderline between our sky
and space. This was to be Foster’s first time in space beyond Earth’s
orbit.
*****
Tyler’s breathing slowly returned to normal as he placed his head back on his pillow.
His nurse entered and immediately boasted, “How about that!?”
He nodded towards the nurse as best he could as he could feel
perspiration dripping down his body. The nurse walked over to check
Tyler’s readings amidst the steady beeping of his heart rate monitor.
“All seems good,” the nurse remarked in a cheery tone.
The medical assistant noticed the gift, still wrapped, on Tyler’s bedside table.
“Would you like me to open that for you, sir?”
Tyler nodded.
*****
Foster removed her gloves and helmet as she found herself floating in
zero g-force. She couldn’t help but childishly simper at the
realization that her life-long dreams were coming true. She propelled
herself to a rear window and faithfully watched the Earth grow ever so
smaller as they ventured away from it. Foster suddenly felt a pit in
her weightless stomach. She knew it wasn’t from space adaptation
syndrome; she experienced that plenty of times in training. This was
different. This was a discomfort of discovery, a spasm to epiphany.
This was a culmination of every invocation she had made late at night
while laying restlessly in bed. Petitions and pleads to the universe,
asserting that if she just achieved her dream of reaching the heavens
and traveling beyond low earth orbit, she would be ready to die in a
state of pure wonder and elation. The concept always seemed
preposterously far off, like the unfeasibility of reaching perfection.
Yet here she was, about to traverse the most exciting and remarkable
scientific breakthrough of all time. Where would it lead? What
knowledge would be found on the other side? Foster found herself
suddenly reassessing her assertion: was he actually ready to die?
*****
The nurse carefully tore the gift-wrap as Tyler waited patiently. He
could only tell that it was a wooden gift-box of some sort. The nurse
opened the box and pulled out a resin figurine of a girl extending her
clasped hands; within her hands sat a white dove.
“Very beautiful,” the nurse remarked. “There’s an enclosure card too.” He read it, “A time to reflect. A time to soar.”
The nurse placed the figurine on the table and Tyler eyed it fixedly
all the way to its placement. The figure was indeed beautiful. It
embodied the simplicity of all things, as it stood no more than six
inches, yet it was able to compound the complexities of inspiration,
hope, healing, and protection all in one. He gazed keenly at the dove
in particular and noticed its readiness to take off and soar to
wherever, perhaps the cosmos. Tyler felt the gift deeply as to him this
was a recognition to let go, an admission of acceptance, and his
consent to surrender.
These inner stirrings were broken when the nurse turned on the news.
“We have some breaking news here in the form of a written
statement from NASA. It was just released, no doubt strategically and
intentionally, as the Tunnel II is now fully beyond the grasp of
humanity. In the statement, Flight Director Thomas Kennedy reveals that
the United States has received a single message from the USS Tunnel.
The message was badly garbled and almost inaudible. They were able to
make out just one word: heaven.”
Tyler’s head darted upwards despite his bodily failings.
“We still do not know when NASA received this message but I think
it safe to say there are going to be certain implications due to a
message with such intrigue and perhaps significance.”
*****
The astronauts all saw it: the glistening sphere that was their destination.
“My God,” Foster remarked without thought.
They could literally see distorted images of all the galaxies lying
beyond the wormhole and the size of the rounded body appeared to be
fluctuating ever so slightly, even to the naked eye. Nearby were
numerous structures and the robotics used to create and maintain the
stellar bridge.
Foster cleared her throat and ordered, “Okay. Let’s get in positions.”
The crew got into their respective posts and settled in.
“Mission Control, we have the wormhole in sight,” reported Foster.
“Copy that, Tunnel II," responded the capsule communicator.
The spacecraft inched closer to the spatial marvel as Foster took the deepest breath she probably ever took.
“Tunnel II, this is CAPCOM again. Before we do this thing, Tom wants to know if you want us send any last minute messages.”
Foster listened to the other members scrambling to say something. She had hoped this question would not be asked.
“And Foster? What about you? Over.”
“Copy that, Mission Control. Tell him,” she hesitated. “Tell him: see you on the other side.”
“Copy that. We’re coming up on the coordinates now, Tunnel II. On
your go, you can activate boosters. Once you reach the Event Horizon of
the wormhole, we will lose communications with you.”
“Copy that, Mission Control. We here in Tunnel II would just like to
say,” Foster realized she wasn’t sure what to say. Memories of Tyler
disrupted her train of thought. She reminded herself to breathe. “We’re
very much looking forward to seeing our pals. We’ll get everyone back
safely and we’ll be in contact with you shortly.”
”Looking forward to it, Tunnel II. From everyone here at mission control: Good luck and God Speed.”
Foster looked over to her crew and stated, “Prepare for boosters on my go.”
They all appeared to tense up a bit but prepped accordingly.
“Let’s find out what’s on the other side of the universe, shall we?”
She could make out their smiles through their glass helmets, causing her to smirk too.
“Three. Two One-”
The pilot was touching the booster button.
“-Go!” ordered Foster.
The button was pushed and the spacecraft darted forwards, barreling towards the awe-inspiring orb ahead of them.
“We are approaching the point of no return!” remarked Foster.
The wormhole fluctuated, like it had a cosmic heartbeat of its own. As
they trekked, the images within the wormhole became clearer and
clearer. Foster swore she saw not just representations, but moving,
changing images; glimpses of time into each galaxy.
“We have reached the event horizon!”
The USS Tunnel II proceeded quickly towards the gravitational singularity.
*****
Tyler watched the distorted broadcast of the spacecraft taken from the
nearest International Space Station while clasping onto his figurine.
“Here we go!” yelled Foster. “We are entering the wormhole!”
The Tunnel II was inescapably pulled into the wide astral mouth of the
wormhole. Upon infiltrating the celestial invention, the ship and its
crew were inhaled into a narrow passageway. Each astronaut closed their
eyes and looked away as the intensity of white light took them by
surprise and blinded their vision. They felt themselves going faster
than they perceived imaginable and their sense of direction was
non-existent as they surreally sailed through.
Suddenly, a flashing red Master Alarm went off in the cockpit. It’s
succinct and successional beeps, at least, let them know they were
still alive and in some sort of reality.
*****
The succinct and successional beeps of Tyler’s heart monitor machine
became slower and slower. He heard it and perhaps more intimately, felt
it. He did not, however, squirm or struggle. He did panic. He lied
still on the bed with a beaming expression of tenderness and gently
listened to the calming callings of the weakening signal until he heard
no more.
*****
“We’re here! We’re approaching the other side of the wormhole!” Foster
boasted as she looked at her instrumentation through the omnipresent
white light.
*****
The hospital room was void of sound as Tyler peacefully lied on the
bed, the figurine no longer in his hands as it had slid down and now
found itself on the precipice of the bed.
The nurse abruptly opened the door to see his patient in aberrant
harmony. He heard a sudden crash and was taken aback. The nurse walked
to the other side of the bed where he saw Tyler’s figurine on the
floor. He knelt down, astonished at the fracture. Tyler’s gift had
split in two but the break was miraculously clean. The girl was intact
as were her hands. Lying next to her, but also perfectly intact, was
the dove. The two faced each other in a spectacular and stunning gaze.
The nurse instinctively went to clean up the accident but, with a quick
second-thought, decided maybe it wasn’t such an accident after all.
Perhaps he would leave them there, with one another, for just a little
while longer.
THE END
© 2018 Gregory Cioffi
Bio: As a writer, Greg's short stories The Catacombs of
Truth, Sleeper, Plot, A Peep at London Life, and Cuisine Aquatic
have all been published by Feral Press and subsequently archived at
Yale Univeristy’s Beinecke Collection (Rare Books and Manuscript
Library), while Faceless and Dark Circles have been
published by Blood Moon Rising Literary Magazine. His Science Fiction
short stories Lineage and Legacy, Sacrificial Lambs, Positronic
Programs; OR The Joys of Parenthood, and A Message From the
Last Generation of Man have all been featured in Aphelion. Two of
his poems ("Love Verboten", and "The Interlocking") were published as a
part of a poetry anthology entitled Paumanok Interwoven. His
original play The Letter was chosen and produced as part of the
2010 Long Island Fringe Festival and his next play, The Interim
was selected to the 2011 New York City International Fringe Festival,
the largest theatre festival in North America.
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