SmackDown: Back to Our Roots

Round 5: There is No Air in Space - @painebook

There is No Air in Space

by painebook 

"Grandpa, can you tell me the story of breathing space again?" 

"Child, you never get the story right. You can't breathe in space. There's no air out there."

"But I like the story anyway. Please tell it again."

"All right, little one. Sit back and close your eyes. Imagine emptiness and darkness all around you."

*****

"Worker number five-two-five. Welcome to platform twenty-six."

I adjusted my helmet visor to compensate for the condensation that formed as I entered the airlock. "The name is Bogdan."

"Irrelevant." The speaker crackled as the platform commander equalized the air pressure. "Moist air and freezing surfaces do not go together. Wait until the suit warms up before you take it off. Sit while I brief you on our operation."

A bench folded out from the wall. Settling down, I scraped my gloves across the visor. That only made streaks in the frost. A shock surged through the suit, causing me to bite the inside of my lip and involuntarily piss myself.

"This is Warden Jurasious. Listen carefully to the rules of the platform. I will not repeat them. Lesson one - don't do anything until you are told."

I imagined the person belonging to the voice frowned at my lack of self-control. That's what got me in this mess, to begin with. I never learned to keep my mouth shut. I always had a hard time maintaining my cool under pressure. If I'd just walked away from the asshole who pushed me in the crowded subway station, I'd still be on Earth. Putting my hands on my legs, I sat up straight.

"I won't do anything else. I promise." The shock caused me to flinch once more.

"The next one will be much worse, I promise. No one told you to speak."

Silence filled the room as I waited for her to continue.

"You're learning. Where was I? Oh, yes. The first platform was launched in January 2041, almost a year after the start of the plague. It was nine square miles of flat surface on each side, surrounded by a globe made of clear plasteel. Forty new plasma drives lifted it into orbit. Once in place, we opened it to space, sterilizing the soil and the interior. Smaller globes of seawater and fertilizer rendezvoused with the platform. Seeds from unaffected crops, shipped from sterile facilities, were planted. Ten days later, sprouts appeared. The media was informed, and the call went out for more workers."

I remembered it a little bit differently. Video coverage showed mobs of starving people attacking the convoy carrying the seeds. Thousands of bodies littered the route, and more were killed outside the launch site. I almost opened my big mouth again but didn't want to be shocked. I clamped it shut as the voice continued.

"People flocked to the space centers hoping to become workers on the platforms. The early orbital farms had a forty percent success rate. The early plasteel globes were far from perfect. Most failures were due to structural faults. Loss of hull integrity meant explosive decompression. The space authority and the government considered the losses acceptable. More platforms were built. There were plenty of volunteers, especially during the worst years of the famine."

There aren't enough volunteers now. Convicted of manslaughter, I was given a choice between two years on a platform or ten years in prison. I began to think this was the wrong choice.