Red-shift

The old man lies stationary, red-shifting into oblivion.

He realised that he was an outbound Voyager when the swirling spot of that giant, Jupiter, came into view. It tore at his own lungs and made him damn his own vices. The harsh radiation of this encounter made his devices screech and wail with pain.

His twin went before him, his sister-ship. She has been swallowed by inter-stellar space already, and reports only emptiness. He has heard of this truth second-hand. He knows what is in store.

We on Earth perceive him only dimly. I hold his hand with a resolute firmness, I send him requests and he can only comply after painful pauses. Each breath is a punctuation mark in these immense gaps between communications.

He is past Neptune now: the sweet serenity of that blue globe has come and gone. The sun kisses his brow one last time, so that he might have a memory of warmth.

 

“Hello from the children of planet Earth,” he murmurs, wishing to spread his greetings before him, goodbyes trailing behind him as blazing as a comet’s tail.

Author's Note

The message

Reviews

[Justin Xavier Smith]

I like the concept of what's happening here. The imagery is a little simple, although you convey the emotion of what's happening very well. The actual events of the story don't make for much, although I assume the point isn't the narrative. I think this chapter succeeds at its goals, even if they aren't the loftiest.