By G.R. Nanda
Nickel sauntered past the flagpole and into Steve and Farrul’s campsite. He flexed his back straight, and shrugged his right shoulder to better carry the weight of the traveling pack he held by his right arm. He had taken it off of his shoulders and was now lugging it by a handle against the right side of his body.
The docking chain was no longer connected to him. He had walked back to the Eagle, retracted the tubed chain and removed it from the hull of the Eagle. Then he’d flown it to the camp which was marked by the long flagpole sticking out from the landscape and parked it close behind.
Now, Nickel looked behind him. He could see the large hull of the Eagle, just as before but it was ever more obscured by the orange at his distance.
He turned around and looking ahead, saw faint pinpricks of white sparks and grey smoke, pouring out of an even fainter black chamber resting on the ground.
“Did you make it okay?” yelled Steve from afar.
“Yeah!” Nickel yelled back. His voice reverberated inside of his helmet. He didn’t know if Steve could hear him. Nickel cleared his throat. “YEAH! I’M GOOD!” he screamed. His voice still seemed too muffled to him.
“I’m talking to Nickel, right?” yelled Steve.
“YEAH! IT’S ME!” Nickel yelled back. The sparks were becoming bigger and brighter. The orange gave away the closer Nickel walked. A dark cloud was emerging from the chamber. The closer he walked, the more defined the body of the chamber became to him. It was a dark, rusting and hulking piece of metal attached to black legs with fingers clamped down on the ground. Behind it was a large steaming pan.
No one spoke. The hissing of the sparks became apparent to Nickel. Dark figures emerged from the background. One of them was a large silhouette of a person that appeared to be seated on a gently swaying object.
Steve, thought Nickel.
A big narrow sack hung from two slightly lopsided poles placed at a wide distance from each other away from the rocking man.
Nearing the figures, he saw that it was indeed Steve who was rocking,-rocking on a rocking chair. As he looked upon the hammock, he saw the grimy thin body of Farrul. Behind Steve and Farrul were two large structures: a small building that Nickel immediately recognized as a cooling chamber and a tent consisting of flaps of cloth stained in fluorescent colors.
Nickel stopped at the edge of the heating chamber. He could feel the heat of the sparks, however faint and small they were. Warmth emanated from the smoking center while little rectangular swaths of hot energy appeared in the air, glowing before fizzling out.
“SSSSSSSSssssssssssss………..” Each spark was born loudly and hot before quieting and receding into oblivion.
There was a creaking next to Nickel. It was Steve, sitting in what Nickel could now see was a wooden armchair that tipped forward on its slender legs. When it tipped backwards the chair creaked again. Steve dug his feet into the gravel of the ground stopping his chair from rocking. He frowned.
“You’re Nickel, right?”
Steve released his feet and the chair tipped forward, creaking again. Steve’s body moved forward, but his eyes remained fixed on Nickel. “The boy who introduced himself to me as Nickel after he said he’d help us?”
“Yeah,” said Nickel, nervously chuckling. “It’s me.”
“The Nickel who promised he’d park the Eagle close to my flagpole? The Nickel who hadn’t seen his friends and family since leaving a military base months ago?”
“Yeah!” Nickel said. “Yeah! That’s me, Steve! Who else would I be? You didn’t ask these questions before-when I came back and knocked out Farrul!”
Steve’s frown deepened. For a long moment, Steve and Nickel stared at each other, Steve with suspicious intent and Nickel with an agape mouth, flabbergasted. Suddenly Steve stopped rocking on his chair and relaxed his face.
“Ok, Nickel,” he said. “I believe it’s you.”
“Why didn’t you before?” Nickel asked.
“I was making sure you weren’t a mirage.”
“A mirage?!” Nickel exclaimed. “What?- You didn’t think that about me before.”
“When something large enters your field of vision, there’s a chance it’s your mind playing a trick on you. You’re desperate to see things when all you see is a whole lot of orange. The environment is unpredictable. The ground is almost always cold. The fog keeps these plains cold. Sometimes, warm patches appear and when there’s enough of them in a wave, light refracts in the fog and plays to your imagination.”
“If you want to make it alive here as long as I did, you’re going to have to study these plains and react correspondingly, so you don’t get swept up in the orange. That’s what I did. And I still don’t understand these plains.”
Steve slowly stood up from his chair. He sighed.
“We have some things to show you.” he clasped his hands on Nickel’s shoulders and led him towards the cooling chamber. He pulled a lever on the door, opening it wide and releasing a rush of icy forceful air. Cavernous darkness loomed inside.
Nickel began to step into the black space, raising a foot to meet the raised floor. Steve barred an arm across Nickel’s chest, preventing him from entering.
Steve explained to Nickel that the chamber was to be entered only in specific attire in situations of emergency. While it held useful tools, they were only to be taken sparingly, and most of the time, Steve and Farrul did with what they had outside. Inside were tools like shears, hatchets, cooking instruments along with spongy synthetic food (most of which was set to expire in the year 2201) all basking in cleansing radiation, free from the mordant contents of the orange fog.
The tent was the closest thing to a living quarter. Two sacks of cloth were placed on the floor, along with a wooden crate holding clothes that spilled out.
By the end of the tour, Nickel was having a sinking feeling that he, Steve and Farrul would be better off in the Eagle. In fact, Nickel would probably be a lot better off if he was back in the Eagle by himself.
“I know what you’re thinking,” said Steve as he stood by Nickel in front of the tent. Startled, Nickel looked at him with an upwardly cocked smile.
“What am I thinking?” he asked, chuckling nervously.
“You’re thinking my camp is a crap-hole and before Farrul and I die, we’re going to fester and rot here. I bet you’re also thinking that we’d be a lot better off if we were all in the Eagle.”
“I mean-” started Nickel. He chuckled again. “Look, I just want to be safe-.”
“Oh, I’m not offended,” interrupted Steve. “I don’t blame you for thinking any of what you’re thinking.” He looked into Nickel’s helmet with stern eyes. “The work will start at the ground. You’ll have to learn on the ground. It’ll root you-center you.”
“Why can’t we just go to the Eagle?” asked Nickel.
“If you hop back on the Eagle, you’ll hop back into uncertainty.” His eyes suddenly widened, and he opened his mouth in a crazy grin, breathing heavily. “Orange uncertainty,” he said.
“Is this some kind of trap?” asked Nickel. “I don’t want to suffer like you.”
“I want to help you guys out,” he exclaimed.
“I-I- want to take you guys away from suffering. I can do that on my Eagle.
“Patience!” said Steve. “You must unlearn what you have learned. Not all decisions can be made as fast as they can on a hovercraft! Stay! Stay, Nickel. I will show you the ways of the 23rd Century hermit!”
“But why would I have to be a hermit when I have a hovercraft that I can fly around in?” said Nickel.
“If you want to help the people of the earth, you should learn how to walk the earth!” Nickel stood still unmoving and flustered. The air around him and Steve picked up in speed, whipping past their bodies.
“I-” Nickel started. “Okay,” he said sighing. Steve placed his hand on his shoulder, Steve began to appear muddled in orange.
“First lesson!” shouted Steve. “How to operate when the fog kicks up! Gauge your immediate surroundings.” He pointed to the ground at his feet. “Notice how the flurries of fog move the rock and gravel around.” Nickel looked in the direction of Steve’s arm, down at the ground.
Through the rapidly moving curtain, Nickel observed bits and pieces of rock wavering, shuddering before skidding across the earth.
“Do you see the rocks moving in the wind?” asked Steve.
“Yes,” said Nickel.
“Now, do you see the rocks moving in the wind?” asked Steve.
“Yes,” said Nickel.
“Now, do you see the rocks three feet away from you?” asked Steve. He let go of Nickel and moved away from him. Wobbling, he knelt down and pointed his fingers at the ground. “Do you see the rocks moving here? On the ground-.”
“Yes, I can see the rocks! Shouldn’t we be getting away from the wind?”
“Patience!” shouted Steve. “Focus!” Closing his eyes, he inhaled sharply. “Breathe…….. Breathe in the orange! BECOME THE ORANGE!”
Nickel stayed still, unsure of what to do. Instead of breathing in the orange, he breathed quicker and shallower inside his helmet. Steve eyes were trained on Nickel. Nickel stared back with helpless eyes that Steve could not see through the dark visor of Nickel’s helmet.
Steve was breathing heavily and his back was stooped over. Nickel saw orange air flow into Steve’s mouth and nostrils. He then saw it gush out in a strong exhalation. Then Steve straightened himself and grinned maniacally. He looked right at Nickel with large bloodshot eyes.
Steve spoke:
“Take off your helmet! Breathe……… Nickel……BREATHE THE ORANGE!”
Feeling a strong inclination towards Steve, towards his state, he reached up and tugged upwards at his helmet until it returned from its latching and came off his head.
As soon as the icy air enveloped his face, brushing his skin and hair, Nickel gasped. His vision changed. The orange around him was brighter and harsher on his eyes. He felt disoriented, yet the ground at his feet and the sight of Steve, standing straight and with his arms raised high, welcoming the frenzy of air, steadied him, holding him still.
His eyes hurt. Nickel felt like they were being pushed into his sockets. So he slightly closed them. For a long moment, Nickel didn’t breathe. His skin crawled with a stinging-no- a burning sensation.
“Breathe!” said Steve. His voice awoke Nickel from his trance, a trance that was slowly pushing him into a sleepy and pained submission. Steve’s words registered themselves in Nickel’s mind, awakening the impulse towards activity, away from the painful slumber Nickel was falling into.
Nickel’s eyes opened wider, but they were still almost closed. He gasped sharply, inhaling a long and steady stream of air. His eyes opened wider now, large and fully awake.
The air was cold and dense in his mouth and nostrils. It felt like a mushy block being pushed down his throat. Yet when he swallowed and inhaled, he felt as if he was breathing. His lungs were working out of a self-sustained accord. He was okay.
An electricity coursed through his body. His eyes became hyper alert. Weakness melted away. Nickel’s stiffness melted away. Orange air continued to slide into his lungs forcefully, but with an ease that allowed Nickel’s body to react without discomfort or hesitation.
“Yes!” shouted Steve. “Yes, my boy!”
Nickel slowly walked forward towards Steve. Vertigo caught him. He stumbled. He drove a foot into the ground. He felt the electricity in his body stray towards his center, creating a nauseating sensation. He felt less secure.
“STEADY!” shouted Steve, holding a palm stilly towards Nickel. “Center yourself.” he patted his thighs. “Follow my stance! Bend your knees like me.” He stalked towards Nickel, slowly placing a foot ahead of him, one by one, moving towards Nickel. “Move slowly- Do it!”
Nickel did as he was told. He imitated Steve’s stature, spreading his legs out and bending his knees.
“BREATHE………..” said Steve, “slowly.”
Nickel inhaled long and slowly. His internal electricity returned to harmony, coursing evenly through his chest, limbs and mind providing energy and power.
The orange around him flashed brightly. Nickel gasped. Steve was brightly illuminated, made a stark yellow. The once mellow orange returned as the flash receded. Nickel exhaled slowly, puckering his flaky lips in a tight circle.
“Yes,” said Steve. The world flashed again. Steve turned into a glowing apparition. The brightness receded. Steve was a gaunt and dark man, held together by his raised arms and the two eyes that stayed open, excited and unblinking. “Yesssssss……………..”
Together, they moved through the camp, through the flashing world, under Steve’s instruction. Steve grabbed a sleeping sack from the tent and with Nickel holding the opposite end, they held it next to the hammock where Farrul was sleeping. They leaned on the hammock, allowing Farrul’s limp body to tumble out.
“Pull!” ordered Steve. They both tugged at their ends of the sack. Farrul landed on the sack sprawled on his stomach, appearing lifeless.
“Is he dead?” said Nickel. The world flashed. From his side, Nickel could see Farrul’s unmoving glazed-over eyes peeking out from his face buried in the cloth. His eyelashes were covered in frost.
“No,” said Steve. “He’s just been out here in the storm too long. It’s what he gets. He knows the winds pick up every 23 minutes. He didn’t use a stop-watch.” He tilted his head and peered at Farrul’s face. He chuckled and pointed at Farrul’s eyes. “Looks like the sucker woke up.”
They lugged Farrul to the tent. After lowering his body to the ground, the tent flaps were pulled aside . The netted screen was rolled away by its pole, and Farrul was pushed into the tent. By the time the tent was closed up, Farrul was still tucked into his sack.
They did all of this slowly shuffling their legs with their knees bent. They continued to operate in a similar position. Together, they put out the already dwindling fire by batting it with the large pan nearby. They lugged the pan, rocking chair and a chest towards the chamber, while Steve reminded Nickel to keep himself centered while carrying large objects.
When they got to the chamber, Steve opened the door, but he didn’t enter. The icy black space inside flashed a shocking white color, illuminating the glowing silhouettes of arranged tools and crates.
Steve began to unclothe himself, pulling off his rag and revealing withered, hairy skin. In different circumstances, Nickel would have been palpably embarrassed. But his trance had him calm and preoccupied with the decided goal of safely cleaning the campsite. However, there was enough consciousness in Nickel for him to look away.
Leaving his clothes on the ground, Steve stepped up into the chamber and grabbed a shining plastic bodysuit hanging from a rack on the left wall. The flash disappeared, leaving the chamber and Steve in darkness.
In a while, Steve emerged from the chamber, clad in the bodysuit from head to toe. At his face was a stained plastic see-through visor. With every one of Steve’s movements, the suit squeaked loudly.
One by one, Steve lugged the three objects: first the chest, the rocking chair and then the pan.
Having placed the objects where they belonged inside the chamber, Steve stood and sulked over. He no longer was tall and upright.
“Go! Go-to the tent!” shouted Steve. “Don’t wait for me! Rest there!”
Nickel did as he was told, jogging upright and feeling his electricity pulse through him. When he reached the tent, he flung aside the flaps and net and crashed inside, next to Farrul.
The net rolled back down a chain in the ceiling, closing off the windy world outside. Lying on his stomach, he felt his electricity sear throughout his body, stinging, buzzing through the insides of his body.
Once the electricity had left, Nickel felt a sudden and strong throbbing in every one of his muscles. Fatigue swept over like a tidal wave drowning him in a dark slumber.
A slumber that was dark until his subconscious switched on a light, illuminating a world he did not want to see. An orange world.
G.R. Nanda 