Chapter Text
Chapter 12 - Sign of the Times
“Just stop your crying
Have the time of your life
Breaking through the atmosphere
And things are pretty good from here.”
Sign of the Times by Harry Styles
The horrible thing about the end of the world is that nobody tells you that you’ve already lived through your last morning. Or at least your last ordinary morning. No fanfare. No countdown. No dramatic speeches over loudspeakers or time pausing. Just another boring day in Switzerland. The world didn’t stop just because mine was going to end.
Everything was exactly the same but different at the same time. Like before breakfast, I woke before my alarm. I never woke up before my alarm.
I was almost always late in Louisiana. Never once made it to a class on time…when I still took them…
For a while, I just stared at the ceiling. Tracing imaginary patterns in the almost unfamiliar room. I slowly sat up, leaning against the wall, looking around the bare walls. The little desk that I had complained about, the one that was once buried beneath sketches and notebooks and manuals. Now, I was only holding my phone, it was sitting on a small circular charger, and my task force badge. Slowly going through the motions, I made the bed once more, then turned towards my duffel bag and stuffed the phone and charger into it.
Would I need a phone in space? Probably not. If I did, what am I gonna do? Call 911.
Yes, hello, I'm in space dying. Can you help me?
I rubbed my eyes slowly, then removed my night clothes and got into the nurse's scrubs they wanted me in.
Easy to take on and off, I guess…
I removed Luc’s LSU hoodie and threw it in the duffle, my nice sleep shorts, and double checked over what I had packed in my duffle.
Sweatshirts, art supplies to last till I die, and of course…
I pulled out the sketch book I had since I got here, put it on top, and patted it twice. Then lightly touched the jar of dirt underneath all the padding of sweatshirts, graphic tees, and pants.
“Everyone is here and accounted for. Get ready, space guys. It's gonna be wild.” I whispered to the bag, then zipped it up.
The hallway outside felt so weird. Empty in a way that wasn’t normal. Like everything was finally finished. There were no construction crew anymore; most of the people lining and walking the hallways were under some form of martial law in some aspect. No welders. No huge staff anymore, and no more energy. I kept walking numb to everything around me. I wasn’t really headed anywhere in particular. I was just walking around the quiet rooms.
Mary was gone, the cafeteria a quiet tomb of old food goers and long forgotten mystery meat.
Janitorial staff had all but vanished, my favorite person Albert no longer moping the hallways or even talking about baseball, his least favorite sport.
Even Carlos and the maintenance crew were gone. Nothing, nobody. Everything was gone.
I clicked back into existence near the simulation and testing wing. I frowned, crossing my arms over my chest as I walked towards a familiar room.
“...You’re pathetic.”
I muttered to myself, walking slowly towards it. The hallway gave me silence as my answer. I honestly wasn’t looking for a goodbye. I honestly wasn’t. I just wanted to see him one last time. I was pulled away all day yesterday for final testing and preparations with Yáo and Ilyukhina. I just wanted one more conversation. One more smile from him, one more bad science joke, followed by a lecture on my sleeping habits.
Even though he's worse than me.
The hallways seemed dimmer, and the usually open doors sat shut. Like the whole hallway knew. Knew that this was the final day. I finally found the room, and I frowned further.
What…
The room was locked. Shut tight, red light where you would scan your badge, blinking at me near the sliding door.
Ryland practically lived here.
I swiped my badge anyway. The room was off. That’s what I first noticed. No smell of Expo markers or piles of coffee cups. His hobbit hole was erased. The microscope, the laptop, and the whiteboard, which used to be covered with sticky notes, are gone. Gone. It was all gone. The room was cleaned, and the smell of lemon disinfectant permeated the room. No smell of Ryland or his home anywhere. The only proof of Ryland was the faint squares of black where the sticky notes were, and the cleaning didn’t erase them. I smiled a little at that one.
“Despite everything, you still fill a space.” I chuckled, though. Everything was just sterile; it made me shiver a little. The further I walked towards his hobbit hole, the more I felt the pit in my stomach grow. No scattered papers, no children drawing from his teaching days, no coffee cups, no half-finished equations, or even the little hacky-sack globe. Nothing. Like Ryland was never here.
I softly touched the corner of his desk and looked around, seeing the lone small trash bin nearby. I looked inside, and it was half full. I honestly don’t know why I looked. It’s not like I was going to find him here. Or in the trash, but I guess being emotionally numb does something stupid to your brain.
In the trash, there were pens, empty notebooks, packing paper, a broken coffee mug, and sticky notes. Then I saw it. The corner of a paper I had sat drawing for weeks to get right. I felt my chest tighten, my throat closing up.
“No…please…” I slowly dug into the trash, gripping it and gently lifting it from the waste. I felt my heart in my throat, my hand holding the drawing shaking as I looked at it. Cause there he was, Ryland, staring back at me, his slight smile and glasses. But it was bent at one corner, a smear of black charcoal across the bottom despite my best efforts to keep it clean. A small coffee ring near the top.
Ruined. Discarded. Trash.
I just stared at it, my brain not computing what I was looking at. My drawing. His smile. The laugh lines faintly draw in charcoal, everything I wanted him to remember, everything I wanted him to keep. The very thing he asked me for, a part of me I gave willingly to him.
Was thrown away. I felt tears well up in my eyes, the portrait getting blurry as I collapsed to the floor, my legs sprawled out in front of me as I clutched the drawing to my chest. Like holding it to me could somehow undo everything I had done. Everything I had given. Every smile, every laugh, every piece of me I have given Ryland Grace. Discarded. Trash.
I swallowed thickly, sniffling hard as I tried to take deep calming breaths.
It's not…
I breathed. “I thought... Sorry. I thought that I mattered more than this Dr. Grace. If I bothered you, I’m sorry. ” I laughed.
A pitiful, dead, watery laugh. It was horrible. The room echoed my sniffles and breaths. I sat for a moment, looking at the trash without a thought in my head. Nothing. Nothing came to mind. I slowly looked at the portrait. I slowly tried to smooth the bent corner, but the line remained. Still, a reminder, just like the black smudge at the bottom. It wasn’t perfect; it never would be. But it was still Ryland.
A person I had come to cherish here. Even if he didn’t cherish-
I shooed the thought away. I lightly traced the drawing, his smile, his crooked glasses, the laugh lines, the defying gravity hair.
“You are the worst, Dr. Grace.” He didn't deserve me calling his full name anymore. I looked at the trash once more, the portrait in my hands, and a sad smile crossed my face.
“But I’m keeping this. You’re still coming with me, asshole.”
Because no matter what happened, Ryland Grace was the best thing to happen to me in this place. Even if I wasn’t the best thing to happen to him.
I don’t remember leaving the room. I do remember trying to find anyone else. Mary, Albert, Carlos. But I knew, I knew in my heart that most of the crew was now gone. Mary is probably back in South Carolina. Albert to his family and grandkids. Carlos to his family and wife. It was cold and silent.
And somewhere along the way, I had finally wandered to my final destination.
Medical Wing B
The words looked so harmless, printed neatly on the signs bolted to the walls. As if they weren’t leading me to my doom. I went back to my room, grabbed my duffel, and placed the portrait on top of it. I shouldered the bag as I kept walking. Sterile walkways and medical personnel greeted me as I walked towards my destination. It was unnaturally quiet, the kind of quiet that you only get in hospitals and churches. Places where people whispered because something important was happening, or that anything louder would hurt the atmosphere.
A nurse in black scrubs greeted me as she ushered me into the waiting room, one hospital bed, one chair, and one lone window overlooking the mountains. It felt cold. Devoid of anything containing a thing called personality. A heart monitor, an IV stand, just bland and sterile. No evidence that anyone had ever stayed here or would ever again.
“Wait here, we will begin shortly,” the nurse said, voice tight and polite. Then the door shut, and I was alone. I sat down on the bed, the top of the cover wrinkling slightly under my weight. Someone had already moved everything that I wanted onto the ship, my duffel bag having gone yesterday. The room felt like it was echoing every breath. I folded my hands, then unfolded them and refolded them.
I felt very numb after that. Nothing was computing to me as doctors came and went. They asked questions, checked my reflexes, shone lights in my eyes, asked whether I had a living will (I did not), and asked who I wanted to notify as next of kin.
I paused and really thought about it.
I didn’t want to warn Luc or his family. Or hell, my family at all. They would try to stop me. And it's way too late for that. I could contact Stormy, but again, I didn’t want to have her worry.
I bit my lip in thought, the doctor standing and watching me, waiting. I then thought of Ryland. His smile, his bright eyes.
He knew. Ryland Grace. You're an asshole; you threw away the one thing I could give you. But I hope wherever you end up. You take care of yourself.
I shook my head no and gave the doctor a bright smile. “No, thank you, I'm good to go.”
Lie.
I sat alone in the sterile room for what felt like forever. People coming and going, my brain is numb and out to lunch. Voices outside drifted lazily into my silent room from the hallway. Professional and hurried, “...microbiologist up.”
I blinked. Ryland is a microbiologist. But they have Dubois.
The same nurse from earlier returned, a bright, tight smile on her face as she held a clipboard. “We’re almost ready. Are you okay and good to go?”
I smiled tight, lipped and nodded, “Of course, umm…” I coughed once and picked at my nail beds, biting the skin that peeled up. “Do you mind telling Dr. Grace that I’m sorry I missed him. And to make sure he eats something?” I smiled a little at the floor before looking up at the nurse. Her face held a bit of confusion as she glanced down at her clipboard, before she schooled it to something I couldn't catch. She quickly scribbled something down and then shot me that same tight lipped smile.
“I can do that.”
She held the door open for me, “They’re ready for you. Leave your bag, someone will take care of it.” I nodded my head. Ready. Such a tiny word that held so much weight right now. I walked behind her and rounded a corner towards two huge, heavy doors, her badge being used to scan in, the doors opening with a hiss. Whatever happened now behind those doors was fine. Good or Bad. There was no turning back now. I breathed deeply one more time and followed her through.
The new side of the medical wing was very ordinary, like most hospitals. Not the kind that you’d expect before climbing into a medically induced coma for an interstellar mission.
Just ordinary, white walls, gray floors, and the ever-so-lovely faint beeping of monitors behind closed doors. The nurse continued to lead me through another set of automatic doors before stopping beside a reception desk. She gestured off to the side, to a few chairs situated against the wall, where the doors were.
“Take a quick seat for me, Ren. The doctors are finishing up the other two evaluations right now.” I nodded, walked over, and sat down.
Yáo and Ilyukhina. The other two.
I felt numb again, the distant sounds going to a buzz in my ears, and I glanced around. Nurses talked and stood around, some at computers. Then a doctor, long white coat, came up to me, smile too wide and white, and said something. I couldn’t hear much right now. I nodded. Or I think I did.
I followed him down the hallway, thinking I could feel pairs of eyes watching me. Eventually, it was examinations. Blood pressure, temperature, reflexes, and then the dreaded needles. Questions about allergies and appetite. Things that I had answered a dozen times to the point it became second nature to sigh out the answers.
Good cause, I'm not here.
I was somewhere else, watching whoever this person named Ren was play their part. This Ren answered all the questions in a dull tone, no smile or anything, just looking down or straight ahead as they answered.
After a while, they led me to a room, a single bed, a monitor, and a single chair, and closed me in. I didn’t even get to see the others. My crewmates. I sat down slowly on the bed. I drifted off in thought. My brother. I thought about how he would handle hearing about this. Knowing that I was doing this for him and his wife’s future. My family and friends back home. Knowing that I was trying to save them the heartache of a slow and painful death. And-
The door slowly opened, my eyes moving towards it. Eva Stratt stepped inside. She held her head up high, eyes dark and hollow like always. Long hair framed her face, and a thick black jacket was over a gray turtleneck sweater. Flat. An impossibly flat smile that didn’t reach her eyes. For a long moment, we just sat in silence. She looked over the room and the medical equipment. Me.
“Everything is ready to go and on schedule.” I nodded once. She stepped closer and reached into her coat and pulled out a small cypress statue, hand-carved of some sort. My eyebrows furrowed, looking up at her.
“Your janitor friend told me to give this to you. Along with something else. Just a warning: if you find any extra items in your belongings. They are yours, of course, to keep.”
Albert.
I felt my heart hammer at the thought.
“Did Ryland-”
“Dr. Grace had her own preparations and didn’t leave anything for you. I'm sorry.” That was all she said, a small, sad smile on her face. “He has his own responsibilities.” I nodded slowly and looked away. Because of course he didn’t.
He threw away the portrait. Why would he leave anything for you?
He’d be heading home soon. Back to his students and his old life. Something in my chest hurt anyway. Thudding hard as I swallowed thickly, trying to hold back tears. I didn’t say anything else. Stratt eventually turned away, her voice echoing in the hallway, “Let’s begin.”
A short amount of time later, the room became busy. Medical staff of all kinds moved around me with quiet efficiency. Electrodes, blood pressure cuff, pulse monitor, and finally the IV. I just let them work, no comment, no jokes or goofy side remarks. Nobody talked much; just quick, efficient movement.
I situated myself better on the bed, sliding under the very thin sheet that was the “cover”. It was cold.
A nurse came over, with the same fake tight smile, as she adjusted the pillow behind my head and raised the head portion of the bed up.
“We will be starting the medication soon. You’ll feel a slight burn in the IV, but that should be it.”
I nodded my head and uttered a soft thank you. Slowly, the oxygen tube was placed over my face, around my ears, and under my nose. I thought I would have a final, dramatic realization. Something that would scream “What the hell are you doing?” but nothing.
Instead, I just felt tired. The anesthesiologist tapped me lightly on the shoulder, another smile, tight-lipped.
“Medication is going in now. Just take some deep breaths, and you’ll be under shortly.” Right. Under. I could do with the deep breaths. Slowly, I closed my eyes, the beeping slowly filling the room along with the idle chatter from the medical personnel in the room. The air smelt faintly of plastic from the tubing, but it slowly morphed into something else.
A porch, covered with a thin bug net around it. Rain tapping against the roof, yelling beyond the tree line, down by the docks. I was lying down in my hammock. It was Luc yelling, his voice screeching in a way I hadn’t heard in years, and a smile crossed my face. I smelt the fresh scent of coffee, wet earth, and the cicadas' yelling. The yelps of frogs, and I held on to it. I clutched the memory for dear life.
The medication burned, and slowly everything blurred around the edges, the rain softening to a dull sound.
I hope someone remembers me.
Then I heard another sound. A laugh, bright and unrestrained. And I felt tears prick the edge of my eyes. It was Rylands.
He wasn’t talking, not teaching, just laughing. The kind of laugh that I got with a very bad joke. The one I drew, the one that crinkled the corners of his eyes. I felt my heart drop, a deep sadness washing over me.
Please don’t even lose that. Even if you didn’t like me.
The final thing that I heard was Ryland's laugh, then darkness.