Search Your Desk
Search your desk. You begin rifling through the drawers, and the files on your computer, searching for anything that can ground you. You remember your family now, and your own name, but suddenly you’re hit with a wave of nausea.
“Hey! Lieutenant! Remember your job? You’ve gotta keep that from happening to us.”
There’s a small lever to your right, and you start winding it in a circle. Gradually your vision stops fading and your stomach stops doing flips. Is this really all you did? They couldn’t have found someone else to spin the little lever in a circle?
“Thank goodness you’re back Lieutenant. No one can spin that lever in a circle like you can! Just make sure you’re keeping an eye on the gravity and air levels too. We all gotta breathe after all! And.. Exist.. In a state of normal gravity. I guess.”
So that’s what you were forgetting. Your hands fall into place, one spinning the lever every so often, and the other operating a constant graph keeping the gravitational balance correct. In between all of that you were responsible to reboot the system if the air levels failed, which shockingly happened every time someone opened an airlock.
From talking to the other crewmates the next few days, you learn that this is a cargo ship called the SS Star-Sweeper, that you’re on there for the next month as it travels, and that it’s also pretty old and junky.
You also learn that it’s quite a strange feeling to have old friends know you and not remember a thing. Inside jokes and quips that they expect to land just hang in the air a little bit, and they usually end up shrugging them off with a disappointed look.
Everyone has the same comment about your condition too.
“Oh the sensory deprivation chamber will do that to you. I have a friend/brother/uncle/teacher who forgot themselves too. Don’t worry, you’ll recover soon!”
And they were right! You slowly start to feel like yourself again. Faces become familiar and your job feels less foreign. The lever spins in a slow rhythm and the airlock keeps jolting open, so when the announcement
“Everyone hold your breath, oxygen reset time!” comes, it feels almost natural.
This ship is falling apart, and the crew is too, but that’s just fine with you. You have a purpose. Everything before the darkness still feels a little foggy, but everything after it is tinged with a sense of familiarity.
Eventually you make your last delivery and begin your journey homeward. You found out that most of the crew was from the same planet, and the captain was able to point you to where you needed to go to find your family. But you didn’t even have to worry, because when the ship touched ground with a clunk they were right there waiting for you.
“Hi honey! Or.. Oh yeah it’s your wife! We got the call about the.. memory issue. How much is left?” You smile and reassure them that you knew who they were, and more importantly you knew who you were.
And that’s how you spent the rest of your life. Flying with The Star Sweeper until you retire and live a life of peace with your family. You still can’t remember your childhood very well, but people tell you that’s normal, so you try not to worry about it too much.
Ending 15/16