“They’re just trying to make sure everything went okay. The operation you had doesn’t always go this well.”
“Balls. I’m fine.”
“And they’re probably going to need the bed soon. I’m sure they’re being very polite about it, but we’re going to have a lot of people coming in with radiation burns in a little while. Did they tell you about Ardëe?”
“Yeah, yeah, fine, I’ll press all the buttons and get out of here…” she sulked. “Are you taking me back now?”
“I have to get the agreement of the rest of the group, first. Katie said some very worrying things and they’re a little cautious.”
She snorted. “Idiots.”
“I think they’ll be happier when they realise it’s you.”
“How are they?”
“They’re fine. Mostly. Some of them are a little fragile at the moment.”
6. Iokan
Iokan woke in the centre, in his old room, set to a standard bedroom layout. He hadn’t bothered to recreate the old settings. He hadn’t shown any interest in anything, not even the terrible news from Ardëe, or my announcement to the group that they would need to move to Hub Metro soon. He slept, rose in the morning, put on his robes, ate whatever food was put in front of him, went to the toilet, but otherwise stared at the wall.
Today, he rose and looked out the window. The snow was thick this year, and the evergreens wore white as far as the eye could see. The buses and trucks and fliers that brought in the work crews and their equipment grew snowy beards after only minutes on the ground, and had to melt them away before they left. For once, you could see a good distance; the centre had been wrapped in fog and blizzards for more than a week. But today the only clouds were those spiked on the mountains.
Iokan dressed, left his room and headed downstairs. On hearing a troop of new staff being taken on an orientation tour, he turned away and found another way down, twisting and turning his route through the building to avoid people. Pew was in the gym, slamming angrily at weights, and did not see Iokan sneak through. Kwame was in the kitchen enjoying a meal that didn’t consist of freeze-dried emergency rations, and failed to hear Iokan’s footsteps pass the door. Olivia fretted in the common room, writing on an antique paper pad with an ink pen and crossing out everything she wrote almost as soon as she read it. She never knew that Iokan passed by, heading for the exit, wearing no coat, no thermals, no boots. The centre’s systems knew where he was, but he had done nothing yet to endanger himself or others, so they stayed silent.
The snow was half a metre deep, and paths had been carved between the buildings. Iokan found his way to the edge of the compound and headed into the woods, crunching sandals on fresh snow. The only life there was the forest itself; insects had fled or died or burrowed deep into the soil as winter came, and there were no mammals or birds to trouble the plantlife.
He came out the other side onto a frozen, snow-buried meadow, just as the weather was changing. Clouds had raced in from the mountains and visibility was back down to less than a hundred metres. The sun was just a vague glow and the air temperature fell even further.
He didn’t care. He looked about; he was still alone. He took off his robes and stood naked in the snow, waiting for whatever might come.
7. Elsbet
“I just popped in to see how you were, really,” I said.
“I’m fine and my fingers are fine,’ said Elsbet, with another sidelong glance at the despised neurologist. “You’re not going, are you?”
“I have to pick up Liss soon. She’s having a meeting in town. You should carry on with the therapy. I’ll be in touch.”
“Oh! Before you go, let me show you something!”
She took my hand to pull me away. I looked back at the long suffering neurologist, who shrugged his permission. So I let her take me down through the hospital, past all the porters and nurses moving patients and equipment, clearing beds and stocking up on supplies, down a gravity tube and out to a glass-walled common area looking out on a patch of nature bounded by the structure of the building: trees bursting with the red and gold of autumn, reaching higher than the hospital itself.
Elsbet shuddered for a moment after we stepped out of the gravity tube. The sky was still a shock for her, but she took a breath and clung to me.
“Are you sure you want to be here?” I asked.
She nodded, fervently. “It’s not really open. There’s a glass dome.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!” She pulled me to the glass doors, scooting around other patients and furniture, and paused at the exit, building up her nerve again, then led me outside.
She gasped as the warm sun struck her. The shaking came to a stop; she looked up at the sky, closed her eyes and smiled. I let her go and she spread her arms to catch more of the sun.
She looked over at me, her arms still wide, as if to say: look what I can do!
“Aren’t you afraid?” I asked.
“Yes!” she cried. “But feel the sun…”
“We’re much closer than the asteroid where you grew up.”
“It’s so warm… I can feel it through my clothes! Did they do something to me?”
“I don’t think so. But I’m glad you’re happy.”
She did a delighted twirl, laughing.
8. Iokan
Iokan stood naked in the snow. He tried to accept the cold, but his body’s natural responses refused: his muscles spasmed in shivering waves, his teeth chattered, his skin grew pale and grey as warmth fled.
The fog thickened, and the sun faded from a patch of light to nothing at all; just the general glow of the sky.
The shivering wracked his body until he could bear it no longer and had to hug his arms close and gasp at the cold. Frost spread through his hair, and the moisture on his skin froze, coating him in rime, chilling him further. He fell to his knees. In this kind of temperature, he had less than an hour to live.
A light bathed him from above.
It was not the sun. The fog was as thick as before. It was something shining down on him with more than just illumination: there was a warmth that was blessed relief to his frosted skin. He rubbed meltwater from his eyes and looked up.
The glow was close, from no source he could see, like another sun come near. The warmth allowed him to stand up again. He shielded his eyes; it was brighter now, almost too much. But he did his best to look into the heart of the light.
“You came back for me,” he said.
He closed his eyes and spread his arms wide.
“I’m ready.”
9. Iokan & Elsbet
As Elsbet soaked up the sun, a chime went off in my ear and an emergency message flashed in front of my eyes.
“I’ll just be a moment,” I said to Elsbet, and took a few steps away. I fished a pad out of my bag and put the video through.
Iokan stood naked in the snow, arms stretched out, a beatific look on his face. I sighed. He’d done what we feared and attempted suicide. Nevertheless, it gave me a chance to talk to him.
“Iokan,” I said. “It’s Asha here.” He opened his eyes, surprised and confused. “We sent a rescue drone out after you. It’s very cold out there.”
“Show yourself!”
A beam of light jumped out of the glow and struck the fog surrounding the hole melted by the warmth. It displayed the image from the camera in my pad: me, in a garden, looking concerned.
He suddenly realised what had happened, and closed his eyes with a sigh. The rescue drone was providing a sunny microclimate to keep him alive. The light and warmth were just that — nothing more.