AlexMcGilvery Array - Nano Bytes

«Yeah, so?» I take the stone as he hands it to me. I start to turn it over in my hands and he watches silently, as if waiting for something. I look up at him, waiting for an explanation. But just as I do, something catches my eye.

«What is that?»

«That's why I'm here.»

There's a pattern of dots and fine lines that cover one side of the rock completely. The pattern is linear and precise.

«The thing came away from the wall as a chunk," explains Bill. «We found none of it on either side.»

As I look at it, I realize that it is too meticulous, too perfect to be natural. «If I didn't know any better, I'd say it was deliberate.»

Bill shrugs.

«But that’s impossible. This asteroid is millions of years old, and we’re the first people to ever mine it. No one could have left it there. Are you sure this isn’t some sort of prank?»

«No way, Will. I saw come off the mine wall myself. It was there all along.»

«I'll take care of this," I assure him. As he leaves the lab, I realize what to do.

I walk into Stephan’s lab, with its blue glow of multiple computer screens and the constant hum of their exhaust fans.

«Got something for you,” I say. He looks up from a computer screen and seems disheartened to see that it’s me.

Before I hand the rock over to him, I decide to have it out. «Can’t we talk about this?»

«About what?»

«Us. It was so comfortable, so easy. But you didn’t come to lunch today. Has something changed?»

«I just…I feel like I’ve used you somehow, you know?»

I laugh.

«No, really,” he continues. «You were getting over someone. You were vulnerable. And I took advantage of that.»

«Well, then, I guess we took advantage of each other, since you were getting over someone as well.»

«I guess.» He sees the rock in my hands. «What’s that?»

«Oh, yeah. This is what I came to talk to you about. Look at it.» I show him the striations. «If I didn’t know any better, I’d think it was…»

«A language.»

«What do you think we should do?»

«Give a couple hours to look at it. I’ll get back to you.»

«You really think I'd give him the only copy?» Stephan asks me as we walk back to my lab. «Come on, you know me better than that.»

I’m surprised at him, and raise my eyebrows. He always seems so by the book.

«We should decode it, shouldn't we?» He asks when I say nothing.

The truth is, I'm not sure what we should do. I don't think doing exactly the opposite of what our boss just told us to do is going to help my career.

A few hours after I gave the rock to Stephan, he came back to my lab. «Come on,” he called as he passed the door. «We’re going to Grayson.»

When we arrive at Grayson’s office, Stephan takes over explaining the situation. Grayson looks at us with skepticism. He’s not much older than me, maybe 35, with a shock of black hair that reminds me too much of Anders. He never talks with any of us outside work. He barely even leaves his office and quarters.

«Look, I’m not sure what it is, but it seems to mean something, you know?»

Grayson forces a smiles. «Another of the miners’ ghost stories, is it?»

«No, but --» Stephan starts.

«Look, Stephan, Willow, I’m glad you brought this to my attention. But don’t worry about it. I’ll file a report with the company. I just need you to leave this be. Understand?» I nod vigorously, fully prepared to do what he says.

«But it’s weird, isn’t it?» I ask Stephan. He’s the only person on the station I can trust, but when he asks if we can decode it, I hesitate.

«Aren’t you curious about what it says?» He asks.

«Sure, but — “

«Well, whether you come to help or not, I’m going to find out.»

«Damnit, I know this,” he says. «I know what this is. This means something.» It’s two in the morning, and the station is silent. But Stephan and I are still awake. We’re in his lab as he agonizes over the pattern on the rock.

«Maybe the photo’s just not clear enough?» This is my only way to offer support. Everything he’s done is far beyond my skill set.

«Wait,” he says suddenly. I think I got it. It’s numbers.»

«What do you mean?»

«Look, humans have many different languages that express meaning, right?»

«Yeah, so?»

«So some of them use the alphabet, or some other method of writing whether it be pictograms, ideograms or hieroglyphs, right?»

«Sure.»

«But this seems to be conveying meaning with numbers.»

«So what does it say?»

«This part’s a diagram.» He points to a place on the picture. All I see are striations in the rock. There's Earth, there's us, and that's the distance between the two.»

«So what?»

«Hang on a second, the words are coming.» He scribbles numerals into a notebook. «Whoa.» He looks up at me.

«What is it?»

He scrawls something across the page of his notebook. It’s only two words:

Go Back.

S. A. Wilson is an author of science fiction and fantasy stories who has loved writing fiction since she was nine years old. RoboNomics, her first Wattpad novel, is about humans losing jobs to robots. She also has a teen fantasy novel on Wattpad called the Mage's Apprentice. You can check out these stories and more via her profile - swilson4995.

The Earth is the perfect spaceship. All the oxygen you can breathe, food and water aplenty, not to mention heat from the Sun and human companionship.

All this becomes abundantly clear when you’re all alone, millions of miles away from home and your spaceship is falling apart. Specifically, when you’ve just crashed your ship into the asteroid you’ve been mining for the past two months, and the windshield’s screen is beginning to leak atmosphere faster than the systems can replenish it.

I was lying on my back, both legs probably broken and maybe a few ribs too, staring into the darkness of space in my cockpit and watching the cracks spread like a spiderweb. It was almost like they were mapping out the constellations in the stars. Not that I recognised any, this far from Earth.

I tried to ignore the low hiss of air escaping, though a vivid image of sand slipping through an hourglass came unbidden to mind. I pushed the thought away, and turned my musing to the chances of rescue once again.

Long range comms were down and my weekly check–in with HQ wasn’t due until tomorrow. I’d be long dead before anyone noticed I hadn’t been in touch. Even if I did manage to buy myself more time, I had missed a check–in two weeks ago and nobody even noticed. It might be months before they noticed something.

Another fissure fractured the glass, giving off a snap not unlike the sound of ice clinking in a whisky glass. I could do with a drink now, that was for sure. The last time I’d been in this much pain, I was giving birth to my first son. Of course, then I’d been in a pink haze of epidurals and pain killers. This was a lot more real.

I flung out my arm and grasped my tablet, my lifeline to the ship’s computer. I ignored the flashing red icons that told me which systems were down and tapped through to photos. My son’s smiling face, my husband’s loving gaze. This was far better than watching my life trickle away. I just had to resist the temptation to see how much atmosphere I had left. Ignorance was bliss.

Suddenly, a notification flashed up, right across my son’s face. I went to swipe it away in annoyance, then I saw it.

Can we be of assistance?

I stared at it, my jaw hanging open like a cartoon. I tap it open.