Stasis [short story]


By Corissa Haury

I feel his fingers grip mine for the last time, before we plunge into dreamless hibernation. Before we crawl into the hard-coated, white shells before us. Others stand around while I hold his hands, while I kiss his lips. His soft kiss, affectionate yet powerful, holds my mouth there, as if time suspends for our kiss the way it will suspend our bodies in a few moments. Emotion floods over me under the bright lights of the laboratory. The sound of the oxygen in the shells hisses through corridors of plastic to make its way into the tank, so I can breathe in stasis. It pierces my mind and hovers on the edge of everything else I experience in this room.

It’s easy for me to be frightened, but Alex said this is the best way. I let his kiss linger on my damp mouth as he pulls away, towards a man who helps him into a strange suit. It crinkles, like a plastic bag, and I wonder if we’ll make it to the other side. The woman who will help me comes to my side, offers to assist. She can tell I feel afraid.

“Come with me.” She gestures to a small room, where I can’t see my husband. “We can have more privacy.”

“No, I don’t care about privacy. I want to stay with Alex.” I assert.

Alex looks over from the gear he adorns. He’s down to his underwear, steps into the wrinkly, loud legs of the suit. I smile at him. He smiles back. Something in my heart feels wrong. This makes me more nervous.

“87% of all cryogenically kept bodies will experience little to no change.” She says to me. “You needn’t worry.” The cold room we are in reminds me of a hospital center. I look around while I undress, wondering who in this day and age still says needn’t.

She reads too many books. I think, looking down at the goosebumps that cover my skin when I expose it to the cool laboratory air. What does ‘little to no’ mean? What percentage is that? It sounds like Internet garbage. Thoughts crowd in my mind, fight to break free of their physical prison. The time-frozen shells gleam in the bright light. The floor is white linoleum tile, sterile. There is no particular smell in the room. I smell myself a little, but I can always smell myself. Chewing gum, sage, marijuana, sweat, cigarettes, french fries… They’re all there somewhere on me, at some time. I am left remembering my father and his incessant reading. He used to say ‘needn’t’, I think. Does it come from ‘need not’?

“Legs in.” Says the girl, and I wonder at all the tubes, buttons, and beeping machines, the heart monitors, and brain activity scanners, and machines I don’t know of. Nor will I. The sound of the crinkly plastic brings me back to my own motions. Step in, pull up. 

“Please place this heart rate monitor on your chest.” She peels the back off a sticker shaped like a nipple, with two circles inside it. There are flat metal coils, Aluminum? I think, that lap one another over and over within the circles.

I take the sticker from her and stick it to my bare skin between my breasts, careful not to stick it to my bra. Ugh, my bra. I don’t want to wear that shit into the future if I don’t have to.

Do I have to wear a bra?” I ask the woman. She looks up in surprise.

“I suppose not.” She replies. “Although the material of the suit might feel scratchy on your nipples.” She says this academically, her motherly tone from before completely drained to a droll tonal quality. It’s hard for me not to giggle at her, nervous, excited, wondering. I look over at Alex. He’s ready to go, for the most part. He looks so eager, so interested to try this new thing. I wonder if he knows how frightened I am right now. Why didn’t I tell him how scared of this I am? I’m an idiot. Might feel scratchy on my nipples, huh? Fine. I’ll wear the damn bra. 

“Then I want my shirt.” I demand. “I’m not going into this thing and coming out all scratched up by a plastic bubble in a hundred years.”

The woman sighs, and turns around to get my previously discarded blue t-shirt. It feels light, gentle, cottony. I bought this a few months ago. I remember how much Alex likes it. How much he likes touching me through it, because he says it’s soft. I look back at him, and he is looking at me.

“You sure you want to wear that shirt?” He asks. “It might not be hip in the future.” He grins.

I do giggle now. This feels so absurd. I put my shirt on.

“I don’t care.” I throw back. “I want to be comfortable in my stasis.” I make a fake pouty face, push out my lower lip. Alex laughs. It feels good to relieve the tension, the waiting. Why can’t it be 100 years from now,  and we’re already laughing together under the future’s skies? I think to myself as the attendant helps me zip into my plastic suit. Everything but my face is shrouded in protective blue wrinkled material. The wrinkles run like veins all around me through the blue fabric. Once I’m inside it, it reminds me more of a tarp material than a plastic bag. Sleeping in a tarp for a hundred years… Classy.

Alex gives me one last kiss before we descend into stasis. His affectionate gesture reminds me what it means to be human, malleable to the world and to history, never ready for the change the days bring to us. I leave his warm flesh for the cold pool of liquid inside the hard white shell. My life-sustaining prison, guarded by people like the woman who just put me in here. I close my eyes as she zips the plastic bag shut, and the sleeping drugs take effect.

Who will check on us after these doctors are dead? My last thought haunts me as I drift away. I fall into darkness, hoping the next 100 years will go by quickly in my dreamless, drugged sleep.

Ridiculous, curious, most likely delirious.

I love a great story, whether it comes in the form of words or visual stimuli. I believe everyone has a story to tell, and I love to share mine.

Please feel free to read along, comment, share your own stories, or send me a message via the contact page. Thanks for your time reading my words.

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Conduit, Part I [short story]

By Corissa Haury

Flight is a mad and dangerous thing. Thought Saul, as the ship approached the system gate. That’s what makes it so much fun. He enjoyed being at the helm of a ship, sailing out amongst the burning stars into the void. The small panel in front of him blinked in different places, ancient Greek symbols above some buttons. Others were numbered alongside the scaled controls. One through 12. One through 25.

The ship needed little help to fly or go where it was supposed to, but in this case they were taking the machine out into a solar system where no one had ever been. No one from Home, anyways.

“Saul?” A voice echoed down the corridor behind the cockpit. A young man swung through the doorway, looked out past Saul into the murky blackness as they approached the new system gate. “We gonna be ready to strap in soon?” Jack came into the small cabin. Buttons, switches, and glass panels covered the walls of the cockpit. He sat down in the co-pilot’s chair.

Saul grunted. “Obviously.” His wrinkled face moved, an imperceptibility.

“Good.” Jack looked out at the gate. It turned, a giant hoop suspended in space, spun perpetually. Lighting strips along the outside burned through the black of space. This helped starships determine the edges that fenced the massive chunk of space they were able to pass through. Beside the gate, Jack saw the way station’s center spin also, a creation of gravity within the station. The system gate glowed in the darkness. Far beyond it, galaxies, star clusters, and supernova lightyears away twinkled in the bosom of the universe.

“All those different galaxies n’ star clusters n’ nova might as well be myths. They’re so far away, they’re like pretend.” Said Jack.

“Yet here we are, about to go to one of them.”

“Which one do you think it will be? Do you think we will make it back this time?”

“You know I hate guessing.”

“Right.” Jack grinned, watched Saul watch the console. “You don’t believe this is a guessing game.”

“They’ll program the gates one of these days.” Saul grunted. “It’s a science game. Got nothin’ to do with myths.”

“But it does have to do with chance.”

“Devil’s advocate.” Saul growled. “Better tell the women and children to strap in.”

“Don’t let ’em hear you say that.” Laughed Jack.

“Hear you say what?” A teenager popped his head through the small doorway.

“Some’in about all the smut you stashed on my ship.” Saul’s face was deadpan. The skinny boy flushed. His pointed features glowed with embarrassment.

“I would never do such a thing.” He attempted to rebut.

Saul turned his face away towards the brightness of the universe, just outside the windshield. He grinned to himself, his lips curled back like an ape’s, and released his broken teeth. Davey shuddered.

“Come on Davey.” Said Jack. “Let’s sit down, get strapped in.”

“Is it time?” A woman appeared in the corridor beyond the cockpit. She tipped her head to the side, and smacked her lips. She wore a jumpsuit that was passport blue; a tool belt hung lazily from her wide hips. Her hair was black, pulled back into two short ponytails. The rest of it had fallen out of its poorly controlled bands. It was tucked behind her ears at her leisure, a sign of her cosmetic carelessness.

“Yes.” Answered Jack.

“Great.” Said Abi. “I’ll be in the engine room.” She wiped her hands on a grease cloth, and walked down the aluminum hallway. Her heavy boots clumped along the grated floors towards the engine room, on the main level of the ship.

“Come on, kid.” Jack looked at Davey, and gestured down the hallway towards the row of flight seats at the back of the starship.

“Can’t I stay up here with Captain Saul?” Davey asked. “I want to see when we go through the gate.”

Jack turned to look at Saul. Saul still had his back to both of them, his chair swiveled towards the windshield. He watched the gate approach.

A voice came over the radio in the dashboard.

“This is WS 12, control tower 4. WS 12, control tower 4. Explorer Class #73, Seagull, approaching system gate 12. Seagull, report your status.”

“I don’t care.” Snarled Saul to the others.

“Figure it out, and sit your asses down fast. We’re about to go through.”

Jack shoved Davey into the passenger seat behind Saul, so he could peek over the old man’s shoulder into space.

“Buckle up.” He said. Then he grinned as Davey glared at him, and sat down in his own chair beside Saul. Jack looked down at the console. He barely recognized any of the controls, after all this time on the ‘Gull.

Saul snapped a toggle switch on the radio, spoke into the wire covered mic. “Explorer Class #73 reporting to Way Station 12, Seagull approaching system gate 12. Permission to enter.”

Some lights flashed on one of the control towers on WS 12, the station Jack had observed a few minutes ago. Saul knew what they meant.

“WS 12 to Explorer Seagull, permission to enter is granted. Light chord connection is live and powering on.” The voice of the control tower sputtered through the radio.

The old man went to work on the control panel. The first thing Jack watched him do was reach to a scale based dial, with some characters he did not understand. He assumed they were Ancient Greek.

“Everything’s in Ancient Greek symbols in the mathematician’s world, Jackie.” Saul had said to him once. “And the mathematician’s world is the engineer’s world. Or vice versa, really.”

“Everything’s in Dead Latin in the astrodoc’s world.” Jack had replied, and they had laughed about how strange it was that humanity still clung to those old things. Those things that reminded them of the Home system, of the long ago when man crawled but one planet.

Dials turned and switches flipped. The engines behind the ship were rumbled to life, a high, whining sound. The turbines danced to a faster pace. The ‘Gull was small, originally made to hold a crew of eight. Only five had come on this exploratory mission. No need to risk more than was necessary.

“System gate 12 is on. Light sequence initiated. Stand by until you cannot count the light strands any more.” The radio voice commanded.

Saul was annoyed. “Ain’t my first gate.” He growled.

Jack and Saul and Davey watched as system gate 12 kicked into gear. As the Seagull prepared to jump through one of the billions of chords of the light in the universe, the gate’s circular, flickering lights began to twist and spin, faster, and faster. Streaks of lightning spat forth from the edges, connected in a criss-cross web of light, and electricity.

Davey swallowed, hard. He felt a lump in his throat as the ‘Gull propelled itself forward. The light strands shot, sparked, connected and twirled in a web of dangerous-looking lightning. Jack felt his heart beat against his seatbelt. He noticed that he was gripping the arms of his bucket seat, that he held his breath. He looked over at the boy. The kid’s face looked yellowish. He’s going to hurl. Thought Jack.

“Grab that bag under your chair and put it to your mouth.” Jack commanded. Davey looked at him. He nodded, dazed and sick. He grabbed the bag from under his chair, and held it to his face.

Saul grinned.

“Explorer Seagull cleared for takeoff.” The radio voice said. Finally Saul put his hand to the biggest throttle of all. It was so big even his withered, strong phalanges looked like the outstretched fingers of a child, grabbing a seesaw handle for dear life. He wrapped them around the cold metal, pushed the throttle up, up, up, to a big dash with a number 12 beside it.

The ship lurched forward. All three of the humans in the cabin felt themselves pushed back against their seats by the force of the ‘Gull’s jump forward. The lights of the universe streaked past them as they jolted towards the gate.

Lightning leapt out, seized the ship, wrapped around it, sucked it inward. It passed the object through itself into another solar system on the other side. Everyone on board felt a moment of muffled silence. Those who looked out portholes and windows saw strips of light chords streaking by outside for 1.72 seconds. A blink of light from system to system. An eerie wave of fear shot through every mind on board.

All the stomachs lurched with sickness. Their whole bodies had been jostled, transported. Four of the five people on board had done this before. Davey hurled. The ship jerked. The ‘Gull, Explorer Class #73, had made it to the other side.

“Well.” Saul still gripped the throttle. He eased it back to a safer speed.

“Well, indeed.” Jack unbuckled his seatbelt and stood.

Davey leaned over his vomit bag.

“Come on, kid.” Jack put a hand on the teenager’s shoulder. “Let’s get you to the Medic Room. This is completely normal.”
Davey hung his head between his legs.

Saul pushed a few buttons on the dash, and looked out the windshield at where they had arrived.

“Come on.” Jack coaxed. Davey stood, glaring at him.

“You could have warned me.” He said.

“It’s just a little vomit.” Jack smiled. “Not bad for you at all.”

“Not great, either.”

Jack sighed. Davey followed him out of the cockpit and directly left. There was a spiral staircase down to the lower deck. Jack descended, and Davey after him.

Saul was surprised by the way this solar system looked. From what he could see, there were three visible planets in his immediate proximity. Usually there were more in a system. Once he had seen a singular planet, but even that was unusual. Each star had a collection of friends it gathered over the years.

He let out a sigh, looked down at the cupholder on his bucket seat. He grabbed his diet soda can, and popped the top open. Still the same crackle and fizz as when I was a kid. He thought.

He checked the rear cameras. Nothing so far. He could not see where they had entered the solar system, but somewhere behind them there was a natural entrance to the light chord they had traveled on. We’ll have to look for it when we came back. For the time being, to mark their spot, he pushed a switch. A small hatch opened on the top of the ship and released a small probe droid.

“There you go, little doggy.” He watched the little machine depart to mark the approximate spot through the rearview cameras.

He looked at the nearest planet and engaged in mental speculation, based on previous experience. It was green. Very green. He wondered what the atmosphere would be like. Likely their astrobotanist, Susan, would have some ideas when she saw it. Where is she? Not much longer until we reach it. He sipped his cola. The acidic carbonation burned his esophagus a little. Heartburn.

Saul switched on the ship’s intercom. “Dr. Maarten, come in. Main flight cabin to Dr. Maarten.”

He watched the planet getting closer.

“Suze?” He growled on the radio one more time. “Jack, come in.” He pushed the intercom for the Medic Room. “Jackie, respond. Davey, you there?”

Saul looked down at the panel. All the blinking indicators and glowing lights looked normal.

Why aren’t they answering? He wondered.

“Goddamn intercom.” He huffed aloud.

Something probably happened to the wiring when we went through the gate. He guessed. Saul stood from the flight chair and set some automatic controls to let the ship go into orbit when it reached the green planet. Hopefully there ain’t any aliens ready to kill us all.

Saul downed the last of his cola and stepped into the hallway.

To Be Continued…

Ridiculous, curious, most likely delirious.

I love a great story, whether it comes in the form of words or visual stimuli. I believe everyone has a story to tell, and I love to share mine.

Please feel free to read along, comment, share your own stories, or send me a message via the contact page. Thanks for your time reading my words.

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Docking Bay Y-9 [short story]

Above Earth
From the library public archives, 1887

By Corissa Haury

I can see the rectangular ship descending from just above the platform outside the entrance to the port. Its gleaming silver coat reflects some of the Sun’s luminescent, uncontrolled rays beaming through our solar system. The tainted glass on the ship’s bow indicates the cockpit. Its thrusters are on low. This is a class D civilian and cargo transport ship. Coming from Earth, probably more immigrants, tourists, and travelers come to inhabit the ORB.

“Astropilot Clark of the Orchid to Docking Bay Y-9. Safety code 975-389-238. Orchid is prepared for landing. Requesting clearance to initiate anchor magnetics.” A static voice comes over the radio. I turn to the left where it sits in the console, beneath the lighting switches and above the air pressure and chemical controls.

I adjust the pressure in the docking bay with the control on the console. It’s always strange when the nothingness of space is just beyond the bay, half a mile beyond my thick glass window from the control room to the opening of the bay. One hundred seventy-three lights and buttons blink at me in varying codes in all different colors.

I flick on the switch beside the speaker on the left. “Docking Bay Y-9 to Astropilot Clark.” I reply into the mic on the console. “Ship Orchid is cleared for landing. Initiate magnetics. Responding magnetics will be ready.” I turn off the mic.

Orchid is dropping anchor now.” I hear Clark’s voice on the radio. I don’t reply. I believe in brevity.

I know what every single light, every single switch means. I switch on the gravity magnetics, and the ship’s thick anchors drop down the last few feet to lock against the platform with a thud. I can see the platform groan underneath the weight of the class D ship. Cargo ships are always heavier. I flip the switch for the intake platform, and it begins its automated slide into the port slowly.

“Prepare to close docking bay doors.” I say aloud.

“Docking bay doors on standby.” Replies Zeres behind me. I hear her charge the engines. There is no wasting energy in space. We only use what we need. The platform has drawn the whole freighter inside.

“Shut the doors.” I can see that the ship is powering down. No residual heat from the thrusters. As the bay doors begin to shut out the intruding sunlight, I hear the pilot’s voice again.

“Astropilot Clark to Control Room Y-9. The Orchid has landed. Permission to open the doors.”

I briskly turn to the mic, angry with him for bothering me while I am still stabilizing the environment. I flick the on switch. “This is Control Room Y-9, Clark, negative, that is a negative. Environment has not been pressurized. The doors are still-“

“Controller Rhys, the doors won’t close.” I hear Zeres’ voice behind me. I turn around and see her fiddling with the controls. My hands still in place on the air pressure, I look out through the glass at the docking bay. I can see the sunlight still streaming through the last several dozen feet from space.

“Why not?” I snap back.

“I don’t know.” She replies, “It feels like something is pushing against the handle.” I see her struggling with the final arm of the mechanism on the wall, the arm that guides the powerful, heavy mechanical doors shut.

“Control Room Y-9, are you there?” I hear the voice on the radio. I notice the microphone is still on. He heard everything that just happened in the room. I turn it off.

“Controller Rhys!” Zeres is calling. “Help!”

I grit my teeth. This is the third time this has happened this week. When are they going to fix the damn doors? I rise from my chair. I look out the window to the doors. I stare them down. Maybe it’s a power problem. They don’t have enough juice to close? I grab the handle from Zeres. “Give it to me.” I say. She lets go her grip. Her young, inexperienced eyes are panicking behind her decent facade.

I grip the handle. It does feel as if something is pushing back, as if something is pushing against the doors.

They won’t close.

I pull and pull, for what seems like a long time.

I sweat and I pull harder than I have all week. I can feel them giving. I can feel them closing.

“You’re doing it!” Zeres squeals. I can hear her smiling. “I can see them closing!”

“Yes, thank you.” I grunt through my teeth.

“Now go to the console.” I say.

Her face looks petrified. “Just do it.” I command in a loud voice.

She walks to it.

“Look for the Greek letter Gamma.” I shout at her. “I need you to activate the magnetic door locks.”

I watch her search for it. “It looks like a strange small Y!” I say impatiently, just as I feel myself about to give up, just as the doors get close enough for the locks to work.

I see her reach for the switch.

I feel the release of the handle as the locks click into place in my peripheral vision. I don’t need to look for sure. I am about to go out there. I can still hear the static of the channel to the Orchid. I walk over to the radio and flick on the mic.

“Control Room Y-9 to Astropilot Clark aboard the Orchid.” I say. I look out at the ship. Several workers are waiting around it to clean and fuel the Class D freighter. “Astropilot Clark, are you there? Come in please.” I hear no answer.

“What happened out there?” Zeres asks. I look over at her with a frown.

“Stop looking so scared, for Sun’s sakes.” I snap at her. “I don’t know.” I turn back to the radio. There is just static. “Clark? Come in, Astropilot Clark.” I repeat this a few times before I hear a crackling sound against the radio, and then what sounds like a strange whoosh. Almost as if air had left the ship in a giant breath. Out in the bay, the lights flicker for a moment. Then they go out. I can hear the shouts of the workers faintly as they scatter.

I walk across the room to the door where my spacesuit is kept. I open the closet. Above the suit there is a huge flashlight.

“All right.” I say to Zeres. “You’re gonna help me put this on, and I’m gonna go check out the docking bay. There is something broken out there and I am going to fix it.”

She crosses the room. Just as she reaches me, the whole place goes dark.

Ridiculous, curious, most likely delirious.

I love a great story, whether it comes in the form of words or visual stimuli. I believe everyone has a story to tell, and I love to share mine.

Please feel free to read along, comment, share your own stories, or send me a message via the contact page. Thanks for your time reading my words.

Continue Reading