Gravity

He stares at the broken, and receding, space craft. Just a couple of moments ago, he was tethered to it, his temporary residence since the last seven days and for the coming ten days. A minor repair work requirement meant that he had to leave the craft, come out of it in what has been his first, and probably last, space walk, and repair it to continue the mission.

And now, a couple of minutes and some unfortunate accidents later, here he is gazing at his temporary home, in the midst of everyone’s final home, flying off, uncontrolled and unmanaged, in another direction, leaving him alone in this unearthly space. He soon loses radio connection with Earth which was via the shuttle. He realises he is drifting away from the Earth at a very high speed. He is shocked, trying to understand what happened so he can find a solution.

Of course, he has not yet come to the conclusion that there is no solution to this problem. How can he conclude this so quickly? He has always been able to find a solution to all the problems he has faced on the Earth. That he already has inhaled his last atmospheric breath seven days ago is something that he has not been able to grasp yet.

He recovers from the initial shock due to the sudden tragic accident that rendered his cognitive abilities paralyzed for some moments. He is frantically searching for a solution now. He checks in the wrist instrument latched on to his tough and thick astronomical suit. Oxygen supply is available for the next 15 minutes.

“Think. Think!” He gets a view of the moon as the size of Earth continuously decreases. “What do I do now? Am I going to die? Who would look after Martha?” His head feels insanely dizzy due to all the rotation his body is going through. The moon is looking so small now.

“Where is the Earth? God, I can’t see the Earth. I am lost.” His breathing speed increases. “My life, my dreams, my thoughts are all going to end in some time!” He closes his eyes, expecting that he would get a glimpse of his family. He does not. Instead he just sees an old snapshot, taken probably by his father, in which his mother is rocking on a chair with him as a kid in her lap. The glimpse stays on till he opens his eyes. He is feeling scared. “God, please bring me back to Earth. I’d love everyone, and not worry about anything ever. I’ll forget about wanting fame. I’d just live - happy and satisfied. Please take me back to Earth.”

Tears roll down his eyes, blurring his vision of nothingness. He can still see the shining sun. He remembers the moments when he was once out on the beach on a bright sunny day, sitting, reading a book and using it to shadow his face. “There is no shadow now, and nothing to shadow with, nowhere for that shadow to fall upon.” His love for space is going to kill him.

The instrument mentions 3 minutes. “180 seconds of life is all I have. And I will be no more then. No one would ever see me or talk to me.”

Multiple realizations strike him at the same time crushing him under their heavy weights. “Have I finished whatever I was supposed to do with my life? It doesn’t matter now. I can’t go back to finish anything or to start something or to progress on an unfinished thing now. It is all over.”

70 seconds. Terror. And now, he gives up. He raises his arms probably for the last time in his life, wanting to unhook the helmet of the suit. He doesn’t want to die by suffocation. He would rather have his body sucked out of life instantly. Just before his hands reach the helmet, he stops.

In the last 40 seconds of his life, he still has hope, the never dying spirit of humanity. “I might still be saved; someone might come and take me back, take me home.”

35. He starts feeling one with the vast and dark emptiness. He doesn’t feel like closing his eyes.

36. “I’d forever float around like this. No one would ever be able to touch me inside of this suit. My body would forever be unaffected.” Surprisingly, he thinks of pyramids then. He takes deep breaths now, savouring each one of them.

37. “I can’t wait any longer without doing anything.” He unlocks the helmet.

38. His eyes are now wide open absorbing all the visible radiations that there are. His ears are listening to the cosmic silence. His nose is allowing its last few travellers reach the lungs. His tongue feels all dry. His skin is perspiring.

39. And in a moment long smooth motion, he disengages the helmet and takes it off.

PS: What would you think/do in those last moments if you were in his position?