The Fields of Io

I

Colonel,

you and I, we’ve got history.

Across the plains

of orbital rocks and flying cities,

the laws of gravity

feel like they don’t apply.

But they do.

They always do.

It’s a different country out here,

one without wind or magnolias.

I haven’t tasted watermelon in years.

Hasn’t been any watermelon to taste.

Just sand disguised as paste

with full nutritional value

and nothing more.

Sometimes

I can feel the rumble.

Engines fracturing the cores

little by little

until the ruptured shell

matches the husk of antimatter

left behind.

Machines can’t speak like you and I,

but if you listen long enough

then you’ll see how the whistles

shift decibels into warnings.

Learn to listen out of a desire

and disregard the necessity.

*CLICK*

One moment.

The batteries need charging.

STATIC

Sometimes I wish monsters were real.

Ghosts don’t do this place justice.

RESUME

Colonel, you must know

some spires pierce gravity

at a speed so intangible

the machines whisper.

The oxygen is musty

but filters are a luxury.

Even out here

I’m still middle-class poor.

The captain and their ship

are one and the same.

Didn’t you know?

It’s a shame.

Identities without a name.

A rank, but no home

to reclaim because

the planet just had enough

of us drifters.

And we deserve to drift

because we are microbes

floating

searching

for a bounty

we can’t claim.

I—a bag of circuits and copper—

did not deserve your kindness.

My flesh, synthetic, and yours—

so warm. Tinmen aren’t equals

to the people. Our scrapes

are scars patched by sheet metal.

Where did you go?

Don’t you forget about us, Colonel.

Don’t forget about our history.

We are the back bone

taken for granted by a beast

who can’t remember a life

without shackles.

*CHUCKLES*

Cherry pie and ice cream?

I wouldn’t if I could.

No, I’ll stick with my paste thank you.

Some lines are there

for a reason.

I haven’t forgotten.

I know you haven’t either.

Do you still hate me?

(Rhetorical.)

Knives are the scariest weapons.

You never see them coming

until

twelve stabs

later.

Those—my—wounds will heal.

Blood

is

loyal

to

gravity.

Black, not red.

Oxygen isn’t good enough.

Watermelon, that’s the blue one

isn’t it?

*SIZZLE*

Colonel, I think it might be my birthday.

SPARKS

You…

…you…

promised me.

You said you would come back.

Come back.

Please.

Ice is not nearly as solid

as before. The liquid contorts

and I can’t catch the droplets.

This must be what rain is like,

uncatchable,

infinite.

The pipes are squealing again.

CRASH

Flooded decks of radiation

burn only with the first step.

The rest are numb,

hollow,

voiceless.

Metal is superior to bone.

Patchwork be damned.

My history is your history.

I did as you asked—

the mission

accomplished—

humans had a new home.

Then came the creatures…

they’re still coming.

Red lights

black blood.

The vessels of my kind,

created to be like your kind,

were not human,

but we learned to die like them

anyway.

Did we make you proud?

This paste is delicious.

Gravity

pulls

harder

as ships

fall

apart.

I remember the briefing,

white board temporarily

tattooed in dry erase

objectives.

Maps and charts,

codes and algorithms.

Wires chatter.

Hard drive uploads.

Debrief ready.

It’s been ready for—

—thoughts…sizzling—

—so many worlds—

—prototype travels—

—history—

—history—

—history—

his…

…story…

…we have…

LOST