Dove Levy - Way Station

This place is a wreck. I wish I could take off my helmet, but the central air supply has been damaged, meaning even in the rooms still sealed, I won’t be able to trust what I’m breathing. The method for eating and drinking while inside a walking suit is damn annoying.

…

[happy sigh] Human error.

Unlike Facility A, G has a dual purpose with its relay responsibilities. Minor’s Island is almost completely mountainous, and very soon after its discovery was the discovery of gold and gems and other valuable metals and rocks within those mountains. While not as much emphasis was put on the mines than was on dealing with system issues and the vast amount of files sent over from Nessi, Telle, and the stations on the northern continent, there was still a large mining business here and regular shipments back down to Earth.

We need all the help we can get down there. I don’t know why Dr. Federman volunteered yet — conversations with him are either one-sided, when I’m bored enough that I don’t mind his curt and one- to three-word answers, or they’re about work or comfort. But I came here mostly for these mines.

[sigh]

I didn’t think to ask the boss during our communication what’s going on down there. If the economy has gotten better, if the interactions with the powers-that-be have even marginally improved since we left. There was so little there when we departed. So much war and so little of anything else, anything good, without the money to facilitate the necessary programs that used to, if not work well, at least help a little bit around the world.

No money to help my family’s farm, either. No money means no house and no food, and no house and food means extra strain on me to provide for them in my cramped apartment in the city. Strain I couldn’t match. Even if I don’t make it up here, my new bosses will keep my family taken care of until they’re all gone. It’s all in the contract. And a lot of that aid comes from these mines.

I wonder how the world would react if they knew what was up here — if they knew something was up here at all. It does take more than two hands to count the number of people who know about POGE, but, now that all these teams have died, no more than maybe three or four.

Would they care? I’m on the edge about that. Many would care, would completely oppose any more trips up here, no matter the benefits that could come from it. But many others, care or no care, would fight for this second chance for humanity, for the cleanliness and riches and food, away from the dirty air and starvation of our own planet. There’s so much empty space here. Empty, possibly habitable space.

I don’t know, myself, if I want the Way Station Project to continue or not. I don’t know if it’s worth the lives that could be lost.

[coughing]

He—

Hell.

Not the same earthquake. Been much too long for that. But another, somewhere off the coast. It’s been a half hour since the first hit came, and no terrible waves, so at least we won’t succumb to the same fate as the researchers [laughs].

Ahh, well. I can see the danger, now. If just aftershocks are enough to send us both tumbling down the hillsides, praying we aren’t about to be killed in another tragic, hilarious case of human error, it’s no wonder a full-on tsunami-creating earthquake killed so many.

Dr. Federman sprained his ankle and I dislocated my shoulder and took a nice beating to my back, paralyzing my lungs for a bit, but other than that, we’re fine to leave as soon as the ferry is charged again. We were lucky.

Still another day, though. There’s a place the miners called the Oasis here, nestled between three overlapping mountains with the fourth side against the ocean, a half day’s walk away. From their journals, it sounds beautiful, a place they go to when they want to relax. They’d set up sun lights there, to see the land as it should be seen.

But first, Dr. Federman has to rest his ankle and I have to set my shoulder. He found some crutches and is moments away from coming in here to help pop the joint back into place. Fun.

Why do they call this place Minor with an O instead of an E? There’s nothing minor about this island of ridiculously enormous mountains, but the place is full of mines.

Human error. I can’t get over that. Human error killed everyone here and I am downright giddy.

There’s no alien life. No bloodsuckers or jellyfish creatures, no fungus, no weird storms with bizarre chemical makeups, no statues, no oddities at all. I didn’t expect how much of a relief this would be, how kind normalcy can be after everything we’ve experienced so far.

Earthquake. Tsunami. The best things on POGE to me, right now. The best ways for someone to die, no leeches or poisoned food, no pheromones, no petrification.

I don’t want to leave this island. Next stop is Telle, and then the northern continent, which means a whole place where even stranger things can be found than what we’ve already seen down south. I expect it, now. Maybe more storms like the ones before, or more impossible alien life bent on devouring the poor research teams that were only here to make life for us Earthlings better in the future.

Even if people find out about POGE and decide they want to keep sending more teams, more scientists and planners, and even if they want to eventually live here instead of continue destroying our own planet, is that a good idea? With so much we haven’t anticipated, so many dangers that we’d previously thought impossible, is it in our best interests to keep sending people here? Keep subjecting them to the fates we’ve already seen, or worse? It certainly wasn’t a good idea to send Dr. Federman and me up, but they did it anyways.

This is beyond me. I wish I could allow myself the rest that this island should be giving me. I’ve gone through the pictures of the surrounding landscape from when it was lighted and mapped, and it truly is stunning. I was ecstatic just moments ago. I should still be happy, or at least at peace, but any time I feel this kind of respite I sabotage it. My mind comes up with all the terrible things that could be happening instead, or that could happen in the future, and then I spiral back into the pessimism I used to think was just being realistic.

I’m tired of being realistic. I’m tired of trying to figure out a puzzle when I don’t even have half of the pieces, and I’m tired of knowing that any time I go outside, I could end up the next body on an examiner’s table.

I’m tired.

Another three hours until the ferry finishes charging, but Dr. Federman doesn’t want to leave without going to the Oasis, so that’s where we’re heading. It’s okay to have a slight delay. Bosses shouldn’t get too mad.

The distress signal still hasn’t repeated. We should hurry to find it, I know, but it feels so far away, so unreal, that urgency is hard to come by. If its sender has survived this long, months after everyone else has died, they can survive a little longer, right?

I know I’m just trying to convince myself. It’s unprofessional of me, I know. I know. But just once, just for a moment, I want to rest. I want to just sit without worry, without the fear of being found by something, without trying to fit the puzzle pieces together in my head. I want to stop thinking about aliens, about fungus, about pheromone storms and death. I want to stop thinking about POGE.

So we’re going.

The lights are still on. They’re not the yellow facility lights, painting everything the wrong color. These are sun lights, a pretty blue that reminds me of Earth’s dawn, and everything beneath them looks as it really is.