VIII
NOTE:—On 12 Sept. 2405, having returned from exploring Ophiuchus VIII, and while attempting a landing at the Darkside Luna Base, Starside Explorer suffered a catastrophic failure of its engines. There were no survivors of the crash. While culpability—if such exists—is yet to be properly established, the ship’s log and all shipboard books and documents have been recovered to Space Central, there to be studied, catalogued, and retained in the library’s “restricted” archives until suitable excerpts can be released for general perusal and information….
IX
SESSION ELEVEN.
(Eleventh Week)
Subject: James Goodwin,
former crew member United Earth Station IV.
NOTE:— The fitting of Goodwin’s prosthetic, just eight days ago, has had something of the desired effect. His spirits appear to have been substantially elevated and he is now far more positively receptive in respect of casual conversation.
As a direct result of Goodwin’s massive loss of muscular tissue and skeletal support, however, his prosthetic adjunct—a device fashioned in an atmosphere of the utmost urgency—is of an unconventional, indeed unique design. An adaptation of a small power-loader’s tractor, and equipped with a neural interface, a certain element of the grotesque was obviously unavoidable. Goodwin is aware that a lightweight and more esthetically pleasing model is currently under construction.
However, while Goodwin makes excellent physical progress by virtue of his renewed mobility and rapid mastery of his adjunct, his aversion to hypodermics and similarly sharp implements—symptomatic as it is of his extremely deep-seated psychosis—continues to be of great concern. And since the psychoactive drug Exaxavin is best delivered intravenously, it has now become necessary to introduce mild sedatives into his food as a means of premedication.
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It appears that I was correct in my optimism regards ex-shuttle pilot Goodwin’s prosthetic: the positive affect it might have on his well-being. We can now be fairly certain that in large part it was his loss of mobility—the sheer fact of his hospitalization and protracted recuperation, resulting in what must have seemed to someone of Goodwin’s previous astronavigational skills, his agility, spatial coordination, and employment on the permanently low gravity United Earth Station IV, an interminable and claustrophobic confinement—it was that rather than his actual, physical truncation that was aggravating his mental condition and further delaying his recovery.
Therefore and in conclusion, I insist that the following transcript be read in the light of all the above information, and hasten to point out that despite the unsatisfactory culmination of the interview definite progress is being made as I probe ever more deeply into Goodwin’s psychosis.
SPECIFICS: the following interview was recorded in Goodwin’s quarters with the subject in a state of hypnotic regression, having reacted positively to an injection of fifteen milligrams of the drug Exaxavin. His trunk was upright in the upper frame of the prosthetic, giving him a standing elevation perhaps seven inches taller than my own. I therefore carried out the interview standing, the better to observe his expressions and speak to him “face to face,” as it were.
Interrogating Officer:
Dr. Gardner L. Spatzer,
Space Central, Arizona.
3rd Nov. 2407.
RECORDED INTERVIEW
Dr. S: “Jim, do you remember where you were when last you heard my voice?”
Goodwin, without hesitation: “Sure. I was trying to look in through the window of this alien ship or probe, whatever it was. Couldn’t see a thing—the glitter was blinding—which was odd because the sun was on the other side. Like it wasn’t reflected light.”
NOTE:— At this point during the previous interview, Goodwin had showed considerable irritability and signs of recovery from a seven milligram dose of Exaxavin. He was therefore instructed to sleep; and shortly, upon displaying normal REM, was awakened and the interview terminated.
CONTINUATION
Dr. S: “Well, that’s where you are right now, trying to look in through the alien vessel’s window. Can you see anything?”
Goodwin: “Nope, I’m still dazzled. But here comes Rafferty, so if I just give her a little room…there we go. She’s something else, Susannah Rafferty: a really sweet thing. Damn it to hell, these pressure suits really piss me off! ‘Hey, Sue—how come we never get this close aboard the UES, in atmosphere?’”
Dr. S: “And does she answer?”
Goodwin: “Yeah—something about regulations. And now she’s got her flashlight ready. Maybe if we both shine our torches at this thing together the light will cancel out the dazzle. Okay, here we go. ‘Lights, action, camera…eh?’”
Dr. S: “Jim? Are you okay? What’s happening now?”
Goodwin, after a long pause: “Blinded! I’m blind as a fucking bat! And scared shitless! Weightless, too, but it’s a different kind of weightlessness. And now…now I think I can see something. Yes, I believe I can see…something?”
Dr. S: “But where are you? What do you see?”
Goodwin: “This can’t be real. I mean, I have to be dreaming this. I’m…I’m looking down on the universe—on everything—and its spinning like a top! It’s like a globe of the Earth, except it’s the whole damn universe…spinning. Whoah!”
Dr. S: “Jim, what is it?”
Goodwin: “Now it’s stopped spinning and I think…I think I’m on the other side of…of the universe? And the light…there’s that brilliant light again! A single flash of light…and now…the darkness returns. Utterly empty darkness; emptier than the void. I feel…nothing, no sensation whatsoever, it’s like sleeping without dreaming, without even being asleep! Hard to explain or describe…”
Dr. S: “And the darkness? How long does this darkness last? Do you remember, Jim? Are you conscious in the darkness?”
Goodwin: “No idea. Weightless. Timeless. Totally lacking in any and all kinds of sensation. It’s like…like I’m paralyzed in everything but my thoughts. I’m trying to call out to Sue…but it doesn’t work. Nothing is working except my mind. And I’m thinking: maybe I’m badly hurt, in a sick-bay bed on UES IV. Some kind of trauma. But now—now, all of a sudden—all of a s-s-sudden….”
Dr. S: “Be calm now, Jim. It’s okay. Everything is okay. So then, are you emerging from the darkness? Is that what’s happening?”
Goodwin, becoming very agitated: “I…I think so. But…but I don’t want to! And…and I’m not going to! I won’t! So you can forget it, and I’ll just stay right here in…in the d-d-dark.”
Dr. S: “But Jim, I—”
Goodwin, arms and hands twitching, fists knotting, perspiration forming on forehead: “The darkness…is clearing. But I can’t let it! Because I know…I know what’s there behind it! I know…know…no…no…n-n-oooooo! Get the fuck away from me!”
Dr. S: “Jim! Listen to my voice now—”
Goodwin: his voice rising to another terrified shriek: “No, no, no, noooooooooo!”
(At this point Goodwin’s arms began flailing, his hand inadvertently activating the neural interface switch situated on the console to his right. In short, as his tractor undercarriage hummed into life, he became somnambulistically mobile and commenced jerking to and fro, trundling forward, and advancing upon me however involuntarily. Goodwin was not threatening me; on the contrary, he was trying to escape from a resurgent situation. )