The Silence of Space.

Every year it was the same story. Another person gone into the twisting nether. Never to be seen from again. Part of a colonization experiment that’s been ongoing for twelve years now. At least that’s what they told us. Lord knows what was actually going on. 

I was hiding in a friend’s house up in the country. He had left for the weekend. It was well past midnight one July evening when a knock on the door broke the cricket’s chorus. You can tell a lot by the sound of a knock. This was not the sound of a friend who wanted to stop by for some evening cocktails. It was loud and ominous and echoed through the old cabin like a death knell. I looked out of the window and could barely make out three silhouettes. They were clearly wearing suits but it was a moonless night so I couldn’t make out anything else. No reply prompted a forced entry for Big Brother would not be denied. Then darkness. That’s all I remember. 

When consciousness once again graced my mind I found myself in a huge warehouse. Or maybe it was more like a military barracks. Who knows. All I could tell was that it was cold and dark. There was this unnatural chill in the air and for a few brief moments, I found myself alone with my thoughts. A cluster of approaching footsteps. And quickly a group of three military personnel. I’m not even sure if they said anything. It didn’t matter. I knew what they were there for and there was nothing I could do. Resistance is futile. That is the saying, isn’t it?

I was escorted aboard the shuttle. There isn’t a word that could describe what my mind was going through. Like a swirling maelstrom. Helpless. Like a dry leaf caught in an updraft. My fate was sealed and my destination unknown. Driven aboard onto this giant, metal canister. I was told, or at least this is what I remember of it, that I would be put asleep for the duration of the trip aboard this craft. I suppose it was a good thing, maybe the fright would have killed me. But then again perhaps that would have been a kinder fate than what awaited me. 

They sat me down on a cold, metal table. My last recollection was looking at the light in the ceiling and quickly, within a second or maybe two everything became blurry. And that was that. I awoke in a windowless structure. Inside it was bright with the light of hard, artificial light. It was a bed in what looked like a dormitory. There were other people asleep too. And they were humans that much I could tell with certainty. Eventually, more of them woke up. In came a man dressed in what looked to be some sort of gray thermal suit wearing a helmet with what looked like night vision goggles. He took off his helmet. And I could tell he was different than the rest of us. No, he wasn’t a grunt. He had an authoritative presence about him, an erect posture, shoulders back chest out. His craggy face with sharp features and a chiseled jaw sat there motionless, seemingly waiting for the lot of us to stand at attention but he refused to ask for it. 

Once all of us, ten including myself, looked up at him he finally spoke to us and said “You are all now occupants of the moon. You all are a long way from home, a long way. But you should all be proud as you are part of an unprecedented expedition. To both colonize and cultivate this planet. After putting on suits and helmets we were led outside. It was dark. There was no sun. Or if there was one I sure as hell couldn’t see it. Guess it must be nighttime. There wasn’t a clock anywhere. I had lost all sense of time. Talk about jet lag. 

He spoke again, the warden that’s what I thought of him anyway as this place quickly took the feel of a prison colony, he never actually introduced himself. And he said, “In addition to testing the viability of human life on another planet, you have been brought here to harvest resources necessary for your families on Earth. You will be working in those fields over yonder. He gestured over the horizon somewhere. Or what would have been the horizon if discernible light had been permitted to exist on this rock. Through the night vision goggles, I could make out the terrain on this place. Rocks. And more rocks. No vegetation, of course with the lack of sunlight. We were given pickaxes and told to dig for what the warden called “life ore” it gave off a glow that we could pick up through the night vision masks. So this is it. The dark side of the moon. 

And so went the first few days. Whereupon it dawned upon me a most frightening revelation. My fellow comrades, none of them had uttered even a single word. And when I had tried to. Nothing. My mouth agape but I couldn't hear anything. None of us could speak. And written words. None of us could comprehend each other's writing. I could write and read my own as clear as day. But I could not understand any notes they tried to write to me. It was as if we were spellbound. As if a part of our brain had been permanently shut off. We tried dozens of times hundreds of times. But it was hopeless.

I realized that all ten of us had seemed to be in varying stages of this process. Maybe because we had all come here at different times or maybe some of our minds were more resistant than others. I could see it by the looks in their eyes. Initially, when one of them had tried and failed to speak or read there was a look of great fear, shock, and distress. And then a few days later those same eyes that were affright became still almost calm as if they had forgotten what it was like to do anything they had done in another lifetime on Earth. I knew I didn't have much time.

The warden, there he was looking at me staring at me until he finally said, “The silence does it frighten you? You are here to obey. Communicating with your peers is a detriment to our cause. You are here to serve.” For a brief moment, it was as if his face, his rough-textured visage had become the cratered, jagged surface of the moon itself and the two were rendered indistinguishable in my mind before I came to the realization that his mouth never moved when he spoke. He never spoke. Rather he communicated with his mind. Telepathically. I stared into his gray eyes, empty and dark they were like a vast chasm. He continued. "I've noticed you writing. Enjoy it for soon you will lose that too. It's all for the better so that we can complete the mission. Your thoughts, speaking they are just a distraction. Your minds have all been altered and soon you will all enjoy the complete silence of a quiet mind. Yours is a fiery one, but even now I can see its light dimming." Caught in a trance I could not stop staring at him. His harsh countenance a testament to the cruelty of mankind.

This revelation was too much for me. Trapped on this distant rock never to hear the spoken word again, see a familiar face, or see the sun’s light ever again. Set to collect smaller rocks for the rest of eternity. Writing this even now causes me tremendous pain. I'm not sure I can continue much longer or even at all. I find myself now at a great precipice staring into the abyss below. To whoever shall read this, my memoirs as it were. You must be my replacement. And if by some grace of God you can read this I wish you the best of luck. Sincerely and I pray that your mind and heart be stronger than mine. Farewell.