The Winners

1094 days into the Nebula project, Somewhere near the Sisyphus cluster - The trip had been long for Michael, his body squished into tight compartments for years at a time. His frame, 6’3, was unusually large for a postman. The loud hum of the air conditioner had been keeping him from sleeping through nights. Yvette tipped a little every time he threw his weight around the fragile ship. Three years into his mission, he had begun to question why he took the job in the first place. His wife had left him, he was saddled with two mortgages and the court looking for any opportunity to throw him in jail. It had seemed like the only option at the time. Delivering mail to the outer colonies, a lonely and dangerous job, all for the grand sum of twenty dollars a day. On Earth, there had been concerns that these jobs would become mechanised. Despite the low pay, it was the difference between life and death for some people. Eventually, unionisation made automated deliveries illegal. And so here he was. Fly to the colonies, deliver mail, massive payout. These were the promises that had brought him this far. They never made the ship more comfortable or space less empty. The really pressing matter was that Michael still loved his wife. He’d reasoned that by taking the job at least he would be far away from her. “Enough daydreaming.” Michael pulled himself out of his chair with a soft grunt. The edge of the command console banged his knee and he flinched in pain. “Computer?” Michael groaned. A soft light erupted at the screen next to the kitchen unit. “What is it Henry?” The computer hummed in a soothing voice. Michael kicked the back of his chair and violently shot towards the kitchen, unable to make himself stop, he grasped wildly at anything that would slow the momentum. Michael crashed violently into the door of the shower and Yvette tipped upwards. “I keep telling you my name is Michael.” Michael slurped the cold beverage from its sealed bag. Ice cold coffee with any taste slowly disappearing over the long journey. “Your name is registered in the database as Henry, if you would like me to change it, I’d have to ask Control.” Michael flipped grumpily through old newspapers, the subjects of articles long forgotten back on earth. “Don’t bother, the mission will be over by the time they get back to you.” “As you wish.” The computer hummed with soothing indifference. “Henry, I want to remind you that tomorrow is our third year in space. Would you like me to prepare a cake? Or maybe a surprise party?” “It defeats the purpose if you tell me what you’re doing.” Michael sat at his kitchen table and clipped the newspapers into a designated pouch to keep them from flying off. Stretching himself he slowly began to move towards the exit hatch. “I’m going out. Gonna see if I can get a feed to the colonies.” Michael dragged himself toward the toolbox and yanked his coffee stained space suit off a bright orange folding peg. He yawned violently as the hatch depressurized, and the path to space slowly opened. Space, a deep dark void. The planets and stars of the solar system had long since disappeared into the haze of the journey. All that was left was darkness and the faint glimmer of a far-off nebula. Michael loved his space suit, it was the most comfortable thing on the ship, it morphed to his body and cushioned the sharp edges of the ship. He stretched and flexed, and the suit followed his every command. He screwed a bolt that was damaged to the point of uselessness into the communications panel and hoped it wouldn’t come off. He sat on the handrail he was using to balance himself and stared into the void. He knew in his head that they were moving thousands of miles an hour, but to him he felt stillness. He wasn’t moving, he was floating through space, like a leaf on a calm river. Michael closed his eyes and felt silence washing over him. A perfect quiet that inspired deep feelings of panic and loneliness inside of him. Thud, something crashed into him. A violent shock rippled through Michael’s body, He was cast off his makeshift seat as the ship slowly floated away. His brain was a frenzy, ordering him to complete a dozen tasks in that very instant. Michael reached out his arm to grasp at anything that would stop his descent into the void. “Help!” He screamed to no one in particular. The glove of his suit barely grazing the edge of the ship. Michael’s hand slid off the slick polished carbon of the life support module. Unable to think, Michael instinctually jerked his arms and legs in a swimming motion. This did little but to tire him out as the ship drifted further away. For the first time since he left Earth, Michael realised how alone he was. He longed for the familiarity of Yvette. He felt the vast emptiness behind him and felt a chill creep down his back. He could do nothing but watch as she slowly drifted away. “Help!” He cried with tears streaming down his cheeks. He didn’t want to die, he knew that someday he would die but not like this, not for twenty dollars a day and certainly not alone in space. He’d imagined it would happen in bed, as an old man, happy, and surrounded by loved ones. Like it was supposed to. Michael felt a gentle tug and was pulled forward behind Yvette. His lifeline stretched out taut and calmly dragged him behind the ship. Its bright orange fabric swayed merrily. Michael stretched out and tried to stop the adrenaline coursing through his veins. After taking about five minutes to calm himself down, Michael grabbed the line and pulled himself towards the ship. It wasn’t hard. A couple of tugs and Michael crashed into the side of the ship. Grasping at the railing tightly, he refused to allow himself to be cast back into the void. He scrambled into the ship as quickly as he could. Michael entered the capsule and stood at the entrance for a while. “What have you brought onboard?” Michael looked down and noticed something in his arm. The thing that knocked him off the ship, a smooth black metal box. He had been clutching it tightly this entire time. He inspected the object in his hands with surprise. “I don’t know.” Michael placed the object on the kitchen table, and It bolted itself to the surface. He sluggishly removed his helmet. He unzipped his gloves and dropped them. They bounced off the floor and danced in the air. Michael undid his suit and left it where it lay. He stepped out of the pile of clothes and staggered towards the kitchen to get a glass of water. “Henry, would you like me to prepare a meal for you?” Michael stood by the cabinet chugging as much water as he could. More to soothe his nerves than to quench any underlying thirst. Metallic whirring could be heard through the thin walls of Yvette. A small silver tray emerged from a secret compartment in the wall. “Roast pork and Mashed potatoes.” The computer cheerfully posited. Michael stuck the water hose back onto the counter and walked towards the tray. Rolling back the tin foil cover revealed the jellied cubes of dehydrated spam and powdered mash potatoes. He was put off by the smell of over salted, preservative rich food. Pushing his nose in the air, Michael mumbled,“I think I’m okay for now.” He covered the meal with the tin foil and pushed it to the side being careful not to get any sauce on his fingers. Looking up, Michael stared at the object he’d rescued from space. The slick black box went about six inches in each direction with a separation down the middle implying it could be opened. Michael leaned over and grabbed the box, pulling it into himself he cradled it like a newborn baby. He turned the box over in his hands inspecting every corner and finally placing it gently back on the table. “Do you think I should open it?” He gestured nonchalantly at the computer screen. “Negative, it could be carrying a pathogen or hazardous material. Any damage to company property will lead to prosecution or even termination of your contract.” Michael stared and the box and looked around Yvette. She was nothing special. A one-man cargo ship lazily transporting lonely souls back and forth from the colonies to earth like Charon on the River Styx. There he was, floating through space with a computer that couldn’t even remember his name. The company itself could barely contain their disdain for the pilots who delivered their cargo. Having to pay and feed a human when a machine could do it cheaper and easier was a constant irritation for them. Michael felt replaceable, because he was – “We could send a monkey in your place and it would be the same outcome!” Those words rang through his head every day of the mission. Michael couldn’t deny that something about this box attracted him. It silently called to him, begging him to open it. Honestly, what could this box do to him that years alone couldn’t? Michael fingered the box for a few moments, wondering whether to take the risk. He knew the company policy clearly stated that if anything damaged the ship, or compromised the mission, he was liable. Michael thought about his ex-wife and his life back home. Finally, he shrugged and opened the box. The sides of the box were perfectly polished, soft to the touch and radiated a soft heat. It was lined with an elegant gold trim. The box opened perfectly, the hinges had been oiled recently, or at least that’s how it seemed. The inside of the box was a dark red hue that contrasted well with the black on the outside. He moved his hand over the finish and dragged his fingers along the outline of a bird carved into the top. Michael placed the box down and sat back in his chair. “It’s nothing, all that fuss and there’s nothing there. A trinket, nothing more.” Michael grumpily shut the box and got out of his chair. “Computer!” “Yes Henry?” “Play a movie.” The cabin darkened and the computer buzzed to life. Gone with the Wind began playing, a remake of the classic. The opening battle scene blared as CGI explosions took heads off the lifeless computerised soldiers. Michael tossed and turned that night. The box called to him through his dreams. “Come to me.” Visions of a lively world, beaming with colourful plants and animals never set eyes on by humans before. Bright red vines of cannibalistic roots and long green stalks with orange heads of lotus’s so large that they could swallow a man whole. Squirrels, rabbits and deer feasted on the thick yellow fields. Filling themselves up with the abundant harvest that nature provided them with each year. Small villages hidden deep within the vast jungles of the world bustled with the promise of real food and community. Michael envisioned himself there, he laughed with the people and felt the sun hanging on his face. He felt the roughness of the trees and the delicate softness of fresh air. Beautiful women stood with air dancing in the breeze while children played in the untainted wilderness.“Follow me and all of this will be yours,” The void called out to him. Michael awoke abruptly. He tried pulling himself out of his cramped pilots chair, his foot was asleep, and he tripped as he made his way towards the box. After taking a moment to stretch and wake up his foot, he finally made it to the cabinet. Digging through the storage he finally found the box. Bringing the box in front of his nose he looked at it longingly. “Tell me where to go!” He shook the box. “Come on, you told me to come now show me where to go!” The box did nothing. Michael realised what he was doing and threw the box into the corner of Yvette. His body tensed as hopelessness washed over him. He collapsed to the floor unable to breathe. Throughout his life Michael had suffered from panic attacks at moments of extreme stress. He sat on the floor rocking slowly, trying to get his breath back but the gravity of his situation quickly dragged him into fetal position. Blip, the box lit up and electric noises came cascading out of it. Michael looked up, hesitated and then crawled over towards the box. He picked it up gently. “9, 7, 4, 3, 7, 2…” The numbers repeated every twenty seconds or so. A flashing violet light emerged through the carving of the bird. Michael walked over to his piloting module and stuffed himself into the captain’s seat. His enthusiasm made it difficult to input the numbers into the auto-pilot. After several failed attempts, he correctly set the co-ordinates. Michael leaned back in his chair and awaited their destination. “Henry, I noticed you inputted new coordinates.” “I had to. We were heading towards a storm.” Michael replied flatly. “The changing of coordinates is not permitted. Approval from HQ is required.” Michael completed the manual override and the ship turned and set about the new course. “WARING: Space Mail has terminated your contract due to section 536 of The Space Charter which states, unauthorised overrides of automated systems is illegal. Please continue to the nearest port to be detained by authorities.” Michael stood up from the module. He felt an unknown rage boil up inside of him. The computer that couldn’t even remember his name was telling him what to do. Michael grabbed its screen. “You stupid computer! You think I care what you think?” Pulling hard, he yanked the computer system off the wall, the screen fizzled out immediately. Michael tossed it to the floor. As the weeks went by, Michael became more obsessed with the box. Once the computer was destroyed he only had the box to talk to. After a while, he stopped showering and the days drifted away. He avoided any trip for food or to clean himself as it would force him away from the box. Slowly the scenery livened up a bit. Vast empty blackness made way for dwarf stars and clusters of asteroids. Even these were eventually surpassed by distant stars and small planets. Michael knew he was moving towards life. He ate only what the box provided and ignored Yvette’s meals entirely. He couldn’t eat space food when such riches were brought to him on a daily basis. Meat and rice appeared before him, with each bite his mouth watered. The tender sweetness of the delights danced on his tongue. Entire choruses accompanied his meals. Each main a psalm and his desserts a sonata each sweeter than the last. Michael slept through the days, and spent the nights drawing visions of his future on every inch of the ship. Once a week he would put on his suit and carry the box into space to show it the planets that reminded him of home. He pointed out Nebulas clusters and stars with gusto, always making sure to hold the box up so that it could get a good look. Some nights he heard a mechanical grinding and the thrashing of wind but ignored it and tried to get back to caring for the box. It’s came to him each night. Softly at first, but louder each day until it deafened him. Until he could hear nothing else. A triumphant orchestra one thousand strong. Each day the box whispered a new promise into his ear. Then one day the ship crashed. Michael had slept through it, his senses dampened by starvation and sleep deprivation. Eventually he was awakened by the hissing of the alarm. “Life support compromised.” Echoed through the ship as large plumes of black smoke erupted into the ceiling. Michael shrugged at the chaos around and calmly checked his coordinates. The future, his future was finally here. Michael manoeuvered himself out of the pilot’s chair and scooped up the box. Slowly and methodically, Michael reapplied his suit, sealed up his helmet and zipped on his gloves. Giving one last thank you he gestured goodbye to Yvette and she slowly bled to death. Michael crawled through the crumpled back of Yvette, being careful not to cut his suit on the exposed metal beams or dancing sputtering electric cables. The exit door refused to budge. Michael banged into it several times. The crash had sealed it. Cursing his luck he decided to exit through the maintenance hatch. A tight squeeze at the best of times, he had grown fat from the meals the box had provided. Michael forced himself through the hatch, throwing the box up first so that he would not have to carry it up. Eventually he removed himself from the ship and rolled down the side, crashing to the ground below. He looked to the horizon and found nothing. The planet was bare. Nothing but an unnamed rock flying through the universe. Michael got off the ground and started walking, it didn’t matter where, as there was nowhere to go. Several days past and nothing appeared on the horizon. Eventually Michael stopped walking. He was nowhere and nothing was around him. Michael brought the box to his nose. “Why have you done this to me? Was this amusing for you?” The box said nothing. “Oxygen levels at 5%.” His suit hummed mechanically. Michael gripped the box tighter. “Why did you bring me here?” The box said nothing and turned to dust, floating away on a gentle breeze. Watching the dust dancing through the air, Michael almost smiled. The beauty was assured. He remembered only that he was here because of the box. Everything else about what he was doing before had vanished. His mission to deliver mail was forgotten, and his payout at the end of a long journey had vapourised long ago. Michael felt weakness coursing through his body. Seeing a nearby rock, he walked himself over. Each step becoming more difficult than the last. He reached the rock and collapsed into it’s embrace. “Warning: Oxygen levels critical.” Hummed the suit soothingly. “Refill immediately.” Michael remembered what his father had told him before he left, “There’s nothing wrong with giving up and trying something else.” He started laughing. His body slumped into the rock. “What are you doing here?” A voice appeared over him. Michael looked up and saw the face of a beautiful woman standing in a bright white sundress. “I don’t know, the box told me to come.” The woman smiled at this answer and replied, “You heard it too. Let’s get you home.” Michael grabbed the woman’s outstretched hand and, with a grunt ,she pulled him off the rock. They walked slowly. She was always mindful to let him keep up. “What’s your name?” “It’s Michael.” “Well Michael, my name is Natasha.” Michael looked to the sky and saw the last bits of the box floating above them. He smiled and finally knew. “Warning: Oxygen levels at 1%.” The End

Bob Getty