[Tape hisses. A deep, male voice asks, "Ready?" "Yes," a lighter voice confirms.]
" This is Austin Striedlen, oral testimony, tape 1. "
["Um..." asks Austin, "Where should I start? The beginning?" The deeper voice replies, "Right at the crash."]
" I woke up in my chair to the sound of music, hearing: 'the winter here is cold and bitter, it's chilled us to the bone. We haven't seen the sun for weeks, too long, too far from home...'
Something seemed amiss; the music wasn't loud enough to wake me up, and I'm a pretty heavy sleeper. That's when I noticed a very annoying beeping sound that seemed to scream out in it's shrill voice 'pay attention to me!' You just can't ignore a sound like that, so I looked for it's source, all the while thinking that it must be important.
I found a red blinking light amidst the controls and suddenly it clicked: warning, it was a warning sound, and so was the light. Any grogginess I might have felt before vanished and I glanced frantically at the read-outs.
I had to look twice because I couldn't believe what I was seeing. According to one of my monitors, there was a large gravitational field, in other words a planet, threatening to pull my ship in, but according to my charts I was In the middle of nowhere. One thing you should understand is that I don't use that term lightly.
To me, the middle of nowhere is where you can't see the hint of a star outside your windows, and trust me: that takes a lot of empty space. I was in the middle of nowhere now and thought about the very slight chance that the navigation was out of whack. I definitely knew that the monitors outside the ship were working, and how could the charts be wrong? NASA goes through all sorts of trouble- checking and rechecking to make sure nothing is overlooked or misplaced; the whole thing just didn't add up. "
[A new voice begs, "Please no melodramatics, Austin..." "I'm not being melodramatic! That's what happened! How else am I supposed to explain any delays if I--" "All right! All right!" the new voice says. "Just keep going, will you?"]
" I frantically turned visual on. There it was, a small, hazy, blackish planet that seemed oddly familiar. I glanced at the readouts again. Then my training leapt back to me- This wasn't just any type of planet, it was a rare 'polarite' planet that looked just like all the pictures I had ever seen on the subject. A polarite planet has a special- and especially dangerous- type of gravitational field. Just like the few others known, this field was immensely strong for the size of the planet and pulled in one direction horizontal to the surface, from one pole past the other. Which meant if I came at it towards the south pole (like I was), I would be smashed to pieces by the sheer strength of the gravity before I crashed into the surface. It also meant that if I could 'ride' the field, I would be thrown out the opposite side at an incalculable speed, to who-knows-where. This plan would only work, of course, if my ship wasn't completely crushed in the process. And I couldn't get away from the planet because I was too close. Oh, what wonderful choices!
Seeing, however, that the way I was now going meant certain death and breaking free would be impossible, I chose to 'ride' the field in the small hope that it wouldn't kill me. I think I hate my life at times. I switched off the automatic pilot and rushed to guide the ship to the left of the planet. I rotated the ship to the right so it was level with the planet's surface and immediately felt its gravity. The ship's gravity couldn't compensate in time and I was thrown to the left and weighted down, hitting the wall. I rushed back to the controls and held on tight, determined to guide the ship, fueled with the knowledge that the alternative was not very pleasant or safe.
Although my 'ride' couldn't have been more than a minute or two it seemed like an eternity and is as real to me now as when it happened. I almost lost my grip several times as the ship was rocked and stressed almost to the point of breaking, seeming to me like an out-of-control rollercoaster. Even though I was holding on, I managed to bump my head on the ceiling more than once and could barely keep my hands on the controls. I believe I even said something like 'Nghaaaa!' as the ship wrenched itself away from the planet and hurtled in a random direction. I could barely take this in before I was thrown to the side and, hitting the wall again, knocked out. "
["Ouch," the new voice adds. Austin is heard saying, "Shut up Laurence, will you!? Now, where was I?" The deep voice answers, "Start after the crash."]
[pause]
" Yes, there was definitely no sound. That was the first thing I noticed. "
["What, did you write this down or something?" Laurence asks. Austin says, "Hush. This is hard to remember."]
" Then I actually looked around. Something was definitely amiss, but at first I couldn't see what it was. I stumbled to my feet and realized there weren't any lights. No sound, no lights.... My foggy mind sought for the answer. The power. The power in the ship was off. How had that happened? I walked unsteadily to the controls. They were definitely off. I leaned heavily against them and looked around.
That's when I noticed the second obvious and vital thing that was out of the norm. Mountains. Purple Mountains. Someone had used mountains as a backdrop for my window. Confused, I tried to search for an answer.
Failing, I took in my surroundings. The interior of the ship was black and my eyes were quickly drawn toward a different window. Outside there was a low plain layered in a multi-colored fog. Further back there was a wood, but this was barely seen because of the fog. In fact, it could have been a wall instead of a wood, but a wood seemed more likely.
Still dazed, I looked at the opposite window. I could hear nothing through the ship's sides, but outside I saw the mountains dominating the view; they were very close up. The fog, though, even at the short distance of a few yards, threatened to blot the mountains out.
The fog was a curious thing, and I spent a long time looking at it. It was multicolored and the color in any one spot was always changing. And in an unprecedented manner! Bright red, then black with a touch of green, then a deeper purple than the mountains themselves! The fog hurt my eyes intensely after a few moments, forcing me to look away.
Even after I looked away the colors seemed to dance before my eyes in the dusk of my small ship. I began to think that it wasn't the fog but my eyes that were playing tricks on me. I tried to ignore the fog and focused on the panel I was leaning beside. It was the panel that, if lifted, would reveal half of the ships electronics. So I opened up the panel and crouched precariously in front of it.
I squinted into the hole I had opened and saw almost immediately what was wrong. There was a very small piece, an alternator as it was, that had snapped in two. Although easy to see, it was hard to reach. Discouraged, I stood up and ran my fingers through my wet hair. *Wet? Why was it wet?* I thought in bewilderment.
I reeled back as the room started to twist and turn. My hands had been red from blood: apparently I had hit my head.
I fought for control of my own legs, still not feeling fully awake. The room eventually settled back and was still. I tried to stay calm, to use logic: so I had been hit on the head. It might be only a cut, and I certainly wasn't bleeding to death, I thought. *Talk about over-reacting*, I chided myself. So, after making light of the situation, or as much as I could, I observed my current position and did what any smart, logical, intellectual-type would do. I fainted. I fainted because of the shocked I'd had and the ship was running out of air. Or at least, that's my excuse.
When I woke, I turned my mind to a slightly different problem. I couldn't stay in the ship forever, at least not while the electricity was off. While the electricity was malfunctioning the processors wouldn't work, or the air, or the readouts, or... you get the idea. So I walked carefully over to the emergency door in the side of the ship and opened it.
Now I've already mentioned that I was dazed, but perhaps you still don't understand what I mean. My reasoning, you see, was affected and I was on the point of either collapsing (again) or becoming delirious, except that this time it had nothing to do with the air and everything to do with what I had barely survived. In my right mind I would have never opened that door: the planet's air could have been poisonous, or any number of creatures could have been prowling about. As a matter of fact, if I had one ounce more of reason at that time, I would have realized that I could have been hallucinating it all: that door could have opened into the vacuum of space. Oh well, I probably would have done it anyway.
As it was, if I was hallucinating I continued to do so because the strange foggy air filled the ship. I stepped out onto the hard ground and shivered. Closing the door behind me (another testimony to my health), I backed up, feeling as if I had almost stepped forward into a wall: a wall of fog. I ran into the door I had just closed and turned to my left, having caught the mountains in the corner of my eye.
(One of my closest friends described exactly what they would have done in my situation. He said: "I would have realized just what I did by closing that door, so first I would be yelling 'Stupid! Stupid!' and pounding my head. 'Course, then I would have realized it might not be in the best interest to my health to hit my head... I would have then proceeded to walk up to the door, and scream, 'Let me in! Let me in! Open the door!' Then I might have remembered I was alone, so I would scream even louder..." Well, Laurence, all I have to say to that is ha ha yeah right. Like I have that much sense.) "
["All right already, enough about me," Laurence says, "I was only trying to make you feel better."]
" It was impossible to see any section of the mountains, although they were quite close up, for more than a few seconds. You could try but the fog would quickly swallow it up again, almost as fast as it had been uncovered.
Although I feel silly about it now, I must admit that I felt trapped. The fog, which was like a layered curtain, seemed to be pressing in on me, and even though the air wasn't noticeably denser, I felt like I was suffocating.
Keeping one hand on the side of the spherical ship, I foolishly backed up. Slowly, one step at a time, I went backwards while still looking ahead. I swear, I wasn't an idiot until that moment. Like someone had decided to take all my idiotness and condense it into the most critical moment of my life.
Suddenly my back met with something much colder than the air (which wasn't hard, seeing as how it was humid and hot) and to my horror that something gave way. I was instantly on my back and frantically scrambled to my feet. I was close enough to see a bluish figure in front of me. The creature looked remarkably human as it recovered from a similar fall. I really couldn't see that much of him, but the bluish skin awoke in me the notion that maybe I was seeing things.
"Watch it!" he snapped. *So maybe I am hearing things too*, I thought to myself. He eyed me critically and asked, "You all right?"
"Um, yeah. I think," I replied to what might have been an apparition. He approached me and studied me with one quick glance, looking deep into my eyes. Disbelief crossed his face and he asked, "Are you sober?"
"What?!?" I exclaimed. Now it was my turn to be surprised.
"It was a simple question," he muttered as he walked to the door of the ship. When he opened the door I noticed he had something in his hand, but I couldn't tell what it was. I followed the strange creature into my ship, feeling panicky and dizzy.
Inside it was easier to see, which seemed ironic because it was so dark. I think I know now why it was easier to see: a distinct lack of light to reflect the omnipresent fog. "
[Laurence interrupts, "Remember kids are going to hear this..." "Yeah, yeah, I know...," Austin replies.
"Here," he said as he handed me a cigarette. I watched in silent disbelief. Not only did an alien creature from an unknown and uncontacted civilization have a cigarette, but he expected me to smoke! You see, I know people. Not that it took that much skill to figure out the gesture, but I do know people. I can read the one universal language: body language, and with disgusting ease with some people. This particular humanoid had a perceptible air of authority, a look here or a word or two there displayed it. Worse than that, it was a deadly air of authority, like an army general almost.
"I don't have a light," I explained, hoping that would get me off the hook. The humanoid took out his own lighter.
Thanks to my wonderful sense of morals, I subserviently took the cigarette from him, throwing any control I had 'to heck' so to speak. Not because I smoked, or at least, not in that fact alone did I lose control, but in the fact that I had given in.
The only clear thought I had was that I wasn't going to goof up my first encounter with this guy. One wrong word could mess the whole thing up and likely become my death sentence. With these types of rationalizations running rampid through my head, I took the stupid thing and smoked it.
Smoking has been long proven adverse to health, and few people on Earth at the time smoked; that was more of a twentieth century thing. It does, after all, blacked your lungs to a nice healthy grilled-chicken color, cause bad breath, stained teeth, and- oh yeah- death. The result was that I felt thrown into the past, like some bizarre episode of The Twilight Zone. I also felt childish; I knew nicotine was addictive and would destroy my lungs, but what was I supposed to do about that? That one act was foolish for more than these reasons, though: smoking that cigarette threw any control I had to the wind. It said, 'anything your society may say or do is o.k. with me.' And I suppose that's what I meant too, intimidated by this strange creature in front of me, and noting to myself that he still looked blue.
Being health conscious if not morally conscious, I had never smoked before and had a very normal reaction. I coughed pathetically.
The strange being leaned against a wall with an amused, prevaricate manner. Now that I had a better look at him, his skin wasn't outright blue but more of a bluish tinge. He was thin and tallish for 15, which I supposed to be his age, with eyes so dark green the pupil was lost all together, and the same shade, only of brown, for his hair. He seemed to be standing erect even while leaning, the embodiment of self-control. He was casually smoking a cigarette with the ease of long practice: an addict.
"Come on," he said in a tone that refused to be disobeyed as he swiftly left the ship. I was too curious to not follow him. He led me through the mountains and deep into a city.... Imagine the cleanest, most modern, and best kept city. Now envision it's opposite. Buildings were falling apart and the streets were littered with everything from people to CD players.
Degrading and decomposing posters covered everything, as if from an era long gone. The actions of the street suggested otherwise, for just as every thing was depicted on the posters (though I couldn't read them), much was done in the streets. You will have to rid yourself of every moral boundary to get any further than that. Don't. I refuse to explain. It's no use to anyone. The whole city of moral digression shocked me as an atheist, and will surely offend anyone who hears about it. In this day and age you can not be 'radical' or immoral enough to not be offended. It's that simple. Please don't pester me any further about it.
So- um- anyway, he took me to the equivilent of a bar. He bought me a few drinks and kept asking me questions, like some sort of perverse interview. I had nothing against a few drinks, but he kept buying me more. By the time I should have been worried I was too drunk to do anything about it or even notice something was up. Besides, the whole time he had a certain indescribable look... He always had that air... I'll try to describe it to you anyhow; it was a 'I'll kill you if you don't' look. That's pretty close, I guess. "
["Can we please stop for now?" Austin asks. Deep voice says, "Five minutes."]