The Photograph

I return exhausted after submitting a watertight report on the lost rover. I get back to the dwelling before Dr Cho and take the stair two at a time as I ascend. Picking up the carafe of water by my bed, I quickly cross the hallway into Dr Cho’s bedroom. It’s sparsely decorated, clinical and void of personal effects. I don’t have time to linger as I swop her carafe with mine, however I notice a photo frame face down on the side table. I turn it over to see an image of the doctor and a teenage girl. They smile at the camera as the doctor wraps her arms around the girl’s shoulders from behind. There is no doubt in my mind it’s her daughter. The similarities are astounding. I leave the room and make myself a coffee in the replicator downstairs and wait until she arrives home.

Later that night, I don’t go to sleep but wait wide eyed in my single bed dreading the quiet that accompanies the dark. No wind through the trees or crickets chirping in the night, no owl hooting in the distance. Nothing but silence as a backdrop for my anxieties to scream even louder in my head.

It’s said the moon magnifies your fears, but it seems two makes them almost tangible.

I swing my legs out of bed, still unable to remove my prosthetic. I creep across the floor with incredibly slow baby steps, every sound exaggerated. My breathing is too loud and my heartbeat deafening in my ears.

It reminds me of creeping away from Laura’s cot when she was a baby. She never wanted me to leave. Some nights, I’d have to climb in with her until she fell asleep. Then remove myself like a contortionist. Turning the door handle silently was always the ultimate challenge.

I painfully turn this one a fraction at a time until I hear the gentle ping of the catch, wincing at the noise. I open it a crack and peer through. I can see Doctor Cho’s door down the corridor. A odd pulsating blue glow radiating around it.

My senses are on overload as I continue. Every instinct is telling me to flee, turn back, walk away, but I can’t. I must know why she’s been drugging me. What is it she’s hiding? What does she so desperately not want me to see?

I watch my hand reach for the doorknob like it belongs to someone else. I turn it slowly and gently push.

Dr. Cho hovers horizontally two feet above her bed. Her limbs hang loose as a jumble of blue pulsating tubes support her. They reach down from the ceiling and out from the walls like watery umbilical cords, penetrating her limp body, pulsating and undulating.

I’m left speechless as the door slowly swings back, blocking the horrific scene.

***

I can’t breathe.

I need to get out of here. Out of this house. Off this dam planet!

I stumble into the garden, wanting to be near the only real thing here, I make my way to the Cherry tree. It’s imperative that I calm down and take control of my body’s natural instinct to scream, I slowly regulate my intake of air. I need to think this through clearly.

Staring up towards the sky, I notice the clear ice walls of the dome displaying the star-studded darkness above. As I calm down, I wonder if Laura can see the light from the stars I’m seeing. I miss her so much, it physically hurts. Collapsing to the ground, I hug my knees in tight. Rocking backwards and forwards in the soft fallen cherry blossom.

There’s no one here to hold me or care about me. Laura is my universe, and I am hers. I should never have left Earth. I want to go back. The feeling rises slowly from my belly and refuses to be kept at bay. I feel trapped, I want to go home Now!

Disabling thoughts cascade through my mind. What if I never see her again? What if I never get off this planet alive?

I’m amazed at how disorienting it is to look into the night sky and not recognise the constellations above your head. Staring upwards, I notice an orange dot moving differently to the surrounding stars.

I think it’s a comet, but as it draws nearer, I recognise the shape of a vessel. It’s headed for the opposite side of the planet and its massive. I feel the surface tremble as it docs.

I wipe a tear away as curiosity overrides my anguish. Why would they be sending cargo carriers from Earth? And why in the middle of the night? Now I come to think of it, why was I re-animated on the planet’s surface and not on the shuttle three days prior to landing, as is normal procedure? Is it possible I didn’t arrive by shuttle at all?

***

The next morning, Dr Cho sits at the table with her head in her hands. I feel like my mind is clear for the first time since I arrived. The effects of the drugs have worn off. I toss a packet of headache pills in her direction as I leave for work. A smirk creeps across my face as I close the door behind me.

On the hover tram on my way over to the Cargo Bay, I’m dreading having to explain how I lost a rover down crater 212, the report is to be followed up by a face-to-face meeting.

Excuses whirl around my head like a swarm of bees as I stare out of the window at the passing domes residence.

There is something niggling at my mind. I have a feeling of unease that just won’t budge. There’s something not quite right. It’s not what I’m seeing, it’s what I’m not seeing. I’ve not seen anyone of Laura’s age in the Dome except for the photo they showed me in the presentation. Where is Dr Cho’s daughter? Why hasn’t she ever mentioned her? In fact, where are all the teenagers?