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Five years nine months and twenty five days, that was how long the Mir space station had been orbiting the earth. It was a place of science, of discovery, of experimentation of all sorts. Among other things, it was also a place of love.
The cosmonauts never figured out where the messages came from but they guard a floppy disk full of them. The first message they received was short, almost cryptic and they received it just after the station was launched into orbit. The crew thought it was a mistake. It said:
25021986:00:37:58—
Sxxxxx Uxxxx
Mir
It's been decades since I last heard your voice. Hello from me to you.
And so they shrugged it off. But the next day another message came, just as short, just as brief.
26021986:02:15:56—
Sxxxxx Uxxxx
Mir
Do you live among the stars now? Do you still remember me? I miss you.
The transmissions continued, one for every day. The crew tried to trace the coordinates from which the messages were sent from and found that it was futile. Each day the locations changed but there was one thing constant about it, it was of Soviet origin.
They wondered who could be the one sending them messages.
04011987:09:55:24—
Sxxxxx Uxxxx
Mir
Hello, again. I found your favourite book. You've written so much on the margins. It's like I'm hearing you talk again. I miss the days we spent in the city when we read in peace.
I wonder if you kept the books I gave you. I wonder if you saw the poetry I wrote on its pages. These were all for you.
15071987:02:31:18—
Sxxxxx Uxxxx
Mir
My star, how are you? Have you found a different galaxy to stay in? Do you have more room to fly there? I hope you are happy. I hope you still remember the place you called home.
30011987:16:47:31—
Sxxxxx Uxxxx
Mir
There was a snowstorm last night. I had to go out to get some firewood, needed to keep the house warm. I'm sure you would be mad if I didn't. You hated the cold.
I remember how you would shiver when a cold gust of wind sneaked through from under the front door and you would wrap the shawl tighter around you. It wasn't always enough to keep you warm so you would scoot up beside me and plant your cheek on my chest. I would pull you into an embrace and you would grumble a quiet complaint about it yet you never pushed me away. And we would both fall asleep after a while.
I always wished those moments would last forever, that nothing would change. It was all too unfortunate that we did.
09051988:17:42:35—
Sxxxxx Uxxxx
Mir
There are a lot of scars that run across my body. The more recent ones are from Afghanistan but that doesn't matter. I'm not sure if you still follow the follies of mankind. You said it yourself, the stars are indifferent to our suffering. Are you indifferent to mine?
Sometimes I feel the ghastly pain as if the wounds were fresh. The one that runs across my right eye burns the most.
Do you remember when you dragged your dagger across my face on that day you decided that you didn't need me? It still hurt, you know, that phantom pain lingers as if to remind me of the one uncertainty I'm too afraid to confront.
Did you mean it, when you said you only used me, when you said you only toyed with my heart to get what you want?
It will rain soon; there are storm clouds gathering above me. I cannot see the stars tonight.
I cannot see you.
22061988:12:03:11—
Sxxxxx Uxxxx
Mir
You liked dancing in the rain and I liked to stand by and watch you lose yourself amidst the downpour. Should I have known then about the madness that was taking hold inside of you?
You were hopping and skipping around, jumping on puddles, screaming loud to the heavens promises of profanities. Were you crying? I couldn't tell. Laughter filled the air but not one that was happy. I tried to take your hand to bring you home. You slapped mine away and gave me a look of disgust.
Did you know this was the first time you hurt me?
15111988:21:39:51—
Sxxxxx Uxxxx
Mir
I've been asking myself a question for the past forty and so decades. I never found the answer until today.
I can't forgive you for what you've done. If it was me alone you hurt my answer would be different, but millions died under your aspirations to build yourself a space that guaranteed you safety. I cannot forgive you for all the lives lost and all the suffering you caused.
But that doesn't mean I'm not willing to start anew. Forgiveness, or the lack thereof, is not mutually exclusive with moving forward. I know that now. Both pain and fondness can coexist.
The hurt remains but it needs not be the definition of us.
13021989:23:58:31—
Sxxxxx Uxxxx
Mir
Sometimes I can't help but wonder if our falling out was my fault, if I didn't hold your hand tightly enough, if I should've embraced you more— kissed you more— whispered words to calm your tumultuous mind.
I wonder if I confessed what I truly felt would things be different…
If I told you that I…
That I…
The next transmission was corrupted. The cosmonauts tried their best to retrieve the message but to no avail. They wondered if this was done on purpose.
Today was Valentine's.
15021989:08:21:44—
Sxxxxx Uxxxx
Mir
There are so many things I wish I told you when you were still with me, when you were still in my arm's reach. Before I lost you. I never said them. What was my place?
You had been hers— theirs— for far too long, serving them behind closed doors, in the dark alleys, in their homes without any say in anything, trapped in a bird's cage. A slave, a property of theirs, forced to give in to their whims in private. I could only hold your hand as you fought for your freedom. I could only watch you. You who had pried your cage open, spreading your wings wide and taking off.
Why would I say what I felt, what I feel? I know you, my polaris. You would have looked at me the moment I told you those fateful words then you would smile sadly. What else was there to say? What else was there to do? I was the only one who treated you like an equal, who revered you with utmost respect, and I knew that this was the exact reason you would feel the need to resign yourself to me.
Marx had written, “...the theory of the Communists may be summed up in the single sentence: Abolition of private property.” You are not anyone's property, not mine no matter how much I want you to be. Not to say I want to own you, no! But that would inevitably happen, if I confessed, because I know you don't see yourself as anything other than a tool to get what you need. I could never make you mine, it goes against the principles I adhere to dearly. I could never tell you how I truly felt.
Still, I wish I could've spoken those words of endearment to you, my little star. I wish I could gather the courage to tell you now.
Would you hate me if I said it, now that it's too late?
03101990:10:17:22—
Sxxxxx Uxxxx
Mir
I have let go of your son, he who reminds me of you whenever I see him, his eyes behind those square glasses, tired and always decorated with the crescent moon's shadow underneath them, his smile tinged with melancholy. He's whole again. It's been forty-five years since he was pulled apart, forty-five years of my cruelty.
I have caused him a great deal of pain. Please forgive me. I did not mean to shatter him into two. I became too blinded by my ideals to realize what I've done to him, how I've treated him; not much better than how they treated you.
You would hate me. I'm sorry.
31121990:14:30:22—
Sxxxxx Uxxxx
Mir
Your son is doing well, better than I expected, better than you ever fared. I hope you are watching from up there in the cosmos. You must be proud of him, I know I am.
The year will be ending soon and another one shall begin. I'm getting a bit too old for all of these matters. Perhaps I should look into retirement. It seems that the world isn't ready for communism yet.
Ah, I'm tired. I hope you are well, my starling.
17071990:21:07:01—
Sxxxxx Uxxxx
Mir
Someone left a basket of oranges at my door today. It reminded me of you and how you ate little to nothing. Even when I cooked for you a meal you would refuse to eat it. How thin you had always been. I still remember how I could feel your bones from underneath your skin and how fragile you felt to my touch. You really hated food…
Most of it. You liked oranges though. You always asked me to peel them. It was always my pleasure. It still is.
I'll peel your oranges when I join you, whatever you want, my dear.
09111991:00:00:00—
Sxxxxx Uxxxx
Mir
Happy birthday. I was too busy today but I tried making your favourite goulash. We never celebrated your day of birth. I wish we did. Perhaps we will eventually.
I'm coming soon. Wait for me a little longer.
20121991:00:12:32—
Sxxxxx Uxxxx
Mir
My time is almost up. I'm sorry I can't write too much anymore.
I'm looking forward to seeing you again.
21121991:05:27:41—
Sxxxxx Uxxxx
Mir
It's the full moon tonight but nothing pales in comparison to the beauty of the stars.
22121991:15:26:46—
Sxxxxx Uxxxx
Mir
There are final things I need to set in order, some things I need to sort out, some letters I need to deliver to my children. I wonder if you've done the same rituals before I arrived in Berlin. I wonder if you ever found peace before pulling the trigger.
23121991:23:57:14—
Sxxxxx Uxxxx
Mir
Do you remember when I asked you to wish upon the stars but you refused because wishes are made to the ones that fall? Do you remember when I told you that they would make an exception just for you, you who is the star of my life?
There are no shooting stars tonight. Please make an exception. For me.
24121991:19:37:41—
Sxxxxx Uxxxx
Mir
I wish to see you again.
25121991:23:59:59—
Sxxxxx Uxxxx
Mir
Thank you for listening. I love you.
After that: radio silence. But the cosmonaut did not notice this, not at first. The next day he got another transmission and he was excited to see the next message of this mysterious sender.
The words did not sink in properly.
26121991:00:45:22—
The Russian Federation
Mir
The constituent republics of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics have all withdrawn, the USSR has officially been dissolved.
Please wait for further instructions with regards to your extraction. The former Soviet Republics will have a meeting to discuss your fate.
First an explosion of panic which bursted in the cosmonaut's chest, settling into a quiet anxiety. So instead he waited for the next message from this mysterious correspondent. The local clock beeped: midnight.
There were no more messages.
______
No transmissions were received the next day. Or the day after that. Whoever had sent it seemed to have already moved on from sending the former soviet space station silly little messages of love and memories of a past fondly remembered, moved on from the pain of grief and loss, moved on in life— moved on from life. The cosmonaut felt sadness wash over him, experiencing his own sense of mourning, as if he had lost a friend. He knew, somewhere, at the other side of the transmission, was a man who used to live and breathe and walk the earth, a man with emotions filling his chest writing words too late to be spoken to the station, suspended in space.
The cosmonaut spent his days collecting the transmissions, sorting them all neatly into a folder in a floppy disk, imprints of love so fleeting. He knew he had to keep them safe,
After all, these were the words a man sent to the stars.
