Under the Gaze of God

Under the Gaze of God

A Story by The Proletarian
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A story about space flight, first landing, and the nature of man.

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Under the Gaze of God

If God exists, then He is certainly sleeping here.

A small round window is all I need to drown in the view outside. A deep black atop a grey that shines, dimly, in what could only be the light of the stars- though I cannot see them here.

I am floating in an ocean of smiling sky, under the gaze of the sun. The water glistens, though my eyes are closed- instead I feel the sky and singing ocean, as it moves under my feet and dances infinitely below. My nose is filled with salty mist as I idle with the waves- mixing unobliged with my mind- leisurely displacing the fading scents of summer. Cool Ocean spray sprinkles my skin, caressing my crevasses before falling as icy beads into the sea- its chill already forgiven by the warm embrace of the sun on my face and closed eyelids. I dip for a moment under the waves, and mute the sensations of the surface on my face- I can no longer hear the summer, for my ears are filled with the cries of mighty ocean. It occurs to me that somewhere near there are whales, and I am scared. I cannot hear my boat as it drifts nearby, I cannot hear my phone as it rings far away, saying 'it is time.' Drowning in the clenched fist of God, I cannot breathe.

I cannot breathe. Explosive bolts force free the iron wall before me. Smoke and muted hiss dance across my helmet, as fire and sound are stolen by vacuum in orderly explosion. The lunar sun has set; I am floating in an ocean of stars under the gaze of God- I cannot breathe. There are no smiles in my vista, a palette of grays and blacks are the untouched mountains before me. My mind is filled with unchallenged memory, souring with age. The hollow of my helmet echoes with the thunder of my ascension- fire and smoke reckless with unhindered excitement in the fermented praises of Earth. Yet for all the celebrations of my launch, there is no singing here. My heartbeat marks time, as a cold iron arm aims a camera at my face. A ladder descends at my feet, waking the primeval dust below- its crash goes unheard in the silence of space. Vacuum grips at my suit and stiffens my joints, all efforts to move are met with the stillness of space, in its cold hands I am frozen. Alone, on this throne of man, I am terrified. But in the muted gaze of death it is not the stillness I fear, but the movement. Behind the black eye of the camera watching me are the crashing waves, reaching greedily through the vastness of space to swallow me once again in its tempest of shopping malls, border disputes, and noisy intersections. A swirling cloud of dust rises from the base of the ladder- an explosion that will forever scour the surface of the moon passes, unnoticed, through the gaze of the camera, and I am scared.

It expects me to speak- to mark my momentous achievement with a phrase that will echo throughout history- in every language shattering the silence of space. But here, in the chaos and stillness I have made, staring into the face of God, I cannot breathe.

© 2013 The Proletarian


Author's Note

The Proletarian
What is running through the mind of (a fictional) Neil Armstrong, up to the moment he takes his first steps on the moon, in an alternate history where he says nothing.

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Featured Review

I got it! I read it before I saw your note and knew what you spoke of. That means you have accomplished your mission and it's time to come back to earth. I would love to know how you wrote this, I mean besides pretending you were an astronaut. I can feel the chaos and the stillness. An amazing space odyssey.

Posted 8 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

A thought-provoking piece on a subject not much touched on. The last paragraph is especially vivid in my mind. Great piece. Thank you for posting.

Posted 7 Years Ago


I got it! I read it before I saw your note and knew what you spoke of. That means you have accomplished your mission and it's time to come back to earth. I would love to know how you wrote this, I mean besides pretending you were an astronaut. I can feel the chaos and the stillness. An amazing space odyssey.

Posted 8 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

This is beautiful! I love the vocabulary, description and love for God. I am a Christian, and this truly renews my faith. I adore how you could write in a way that enabled me to picture the scene. Plus, you were one of the few people who wrote a story and the only one who wrote religiously. Spectacular work! :D

Posted 8 Years Ago



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517 Views
3 Reviews
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Shelved in 1 Library
Added on February 18, 2012
Last Updated on September 4, 2013
Tags: Space, Science Fiction, Neil Armstrong, Moon, Landing, Moon Landing, Philosophy, Chaos, Enlightenment

Author

The Proletarian
The Proletarian

Toronto, Ontario, Canada



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