The Stranger from Space

When the call came, J.M. Greschev answered.

A lone trip with a lone astronaut to explore the unknown tear that had appeared in the sky. Far out in the empty black space, our solar system became host to an unknown phenomenon. This void, so wide and disruptive, was etched across the sky at night. Its brilliant luminance came from its frayed edges featuring a fractal break—an endless horizon with an empty dark pit deep inside the middle. Such a thing was never seen before on such a small scale. This nebula, this aberration. A mouth that was ready to eat us whole.

So when the call came, someone had to answer. We needed someone who knew how to man the KS-Fujimoto-Serkesh autonomous solo rocket. An older shuttle model, it was still serviceable for one more task. In this case, it was perfectly expendable for a one-way trip. A return trip was planned, but given the odd novelty of the situation, it wasn't necessarily expected. Humanity had not yet even sent astronauts beyond our solar system. Our footprints had only arrived on Mars about half a century ago. A foray like this was never planned for nor expected.

J.M. Greschev had been a retired astronaut and engineer. He earned his mettle with his PhD in astrophysics focusing on subatomic microcontroller systems. Afterwards, he worked in secret on the space R&D division of the Septentrional Military Pact. Specializing in long-distance flight, Greschev would become a pilot in testing some of the most cutting-edge of spacecraft. Few knew the manuals and operations as well as he did. Having served over 3000 test flights and over 500 space operations, Greschev had the know-how to do most of everything needed on a space ship. So when the call came, Greschev answered. Not because he wanted to, but because he felt he had to. Anyone else wouldn't do as good of a job. They never did, according to Greschev. His own intelligence and drive alienate him from the rest of people on Earth.

It wasn't the appeal of a scientific discovery of a lifetime. It wasn't the sense of adventure or thrill from exploring a new astral phenomenon. It wasn't even the glory of doing so, of being celebrated as the person being sent alone. No, it was none of that stuff that appealed to Greschev. In truth, nothing did. Greschev simply wasn't happy with his life. Stuck with his normal family of a loving wife and children, Greschev didn't necessarily want more. He didn't want to change anything because he knew the grass would not be greener (as they say, although grass is going extinct now). In the end, Greschev just wanted something to occupy his mind.

The hard calculations, the focus, the instruments. This was where Greschev could forget about everything. The pain of his lower lumbar where his L2 and L3 disks were pinching against each other whenever he tried bending his back to far the other way. The demands of his children for his attention and love. Soccer practice and band class. Ballet and zoo trips. Birthdays and play dates. As much as he loved them the obligations could weigh heavy. His wife too, as loving as she was, was unaware of the deep depression forming within Greschev. So when the call came and he answered, she cried. Greschev had been retired for a long time to finally start a family. Now, the uncaring universe demanded he leave them for reasons unknown.

Greschev had injured his back in one or many of the flights he's done. Not all were successful of course, with several crashes occurring that luckily spared his life. Although it did not spare all his bones, and even the advanced medical technology of his time could hardly handle the chronic pain. However, the doctors told him at this point, it had to be psychosomatic. The vertebrae seemed fine, as did the other ossis signs. But Greschev felt the pain. Only he did and only he believed in it, so he just hid it. Deep down like that churning dread.

So when the call came and Greschev answered, things had moved so fast. From kissing his wife and children goodbye to already being prepped for space flight. To everyone who knew, this was most likely a suicide mission at the very least. Greschev would not come back. His expertise, as valuable as it was, could ultimately be replaced one day. But the youth of the other astronauts available could not, nor could their nerves. Greschev knew how to hide everything deep within and lock it up. When the pressure mounted, Greschev would stay cool. But only if there's stress. Without it, Greschev could feel his emotions bubbling. It couldn't always be contained, but out here alone in space, it wouldn't bother anyone but him.

Retirement had been kind to Greschev but Greschev had not been kind to it. That same feeling he had been bottling deep down had become a monstrous mix of unchecked emotions. From fear, to anger, to sadness, to nothing. The void eating him seemed almost as big as the void he was approaching. In a way, this was like a blessing to him and just him. Out here, so far away from everyone and everything, Greschev felt that peace again from before.

The feelings deep down creep back out. But now, there's no one around to see him scream and cry and yell. He does so freely. Tears float off his face. This was the cool and calm and hardened Greschev everyone thought about back on Earth? The only man capable of such an endeavour? The man who was celebrated as an astronautical hero? Yes, Greschev was all of this but none of it too. He would get the job done, that's for certain. But something told him it wouldn't fix anything.

As the intensity of the void can be felt, the cosmic radiation emitted is massive. The shields stay strong and hold. They will have to. The shuttle creaks and moans as they approach the void. A sound can almost be heard, like this soft groaning of massive proportions. The void itself crying. Maybe the solar system was sad too, and this was its tears. The shuttle gets closer and closer as it enters the unknown void. Greschev doesn't know what will happen and feels that calm again, the same one he prides himself on. The void's light is blinding but he remains steadfast. This was the iron Greschev had within him that got him this far. It would get him further.

As the void and he encompasses each other, Greschev can't help but feel different. His body seemed to be glowing too, and his instruments showed illegible readings. Soon, the light was too bright to see anything and could even pierce through his closed eyelids. But Greschev didn't feel scared. Nor did he feel calm. Nor did he feel that depression lurking within him. He felt nothing, as though all his attachments had been cut away and he had been born anew. A human before, he simply was now. Just a being, being. He was ready to accept this new form, to become something more. But something kept calling to him, something he had forgotten about. In spite of the oppressive light, he could see his family there again, offering him shade. He looks at them but can't see their eyes in the shadow they cast. But he doesn't need to. He knows its them and suddenly this feeling he's never felt before overwhelms him. He missed them. He missed it all.

The hot sun at a beach with the waves gently rolling in. The sound and smells of people walking around in a city. His children grabbing him to climb him. The soft skin of his wife at night. Barbecue chicken with the fat dripping off and hissing on the burning charcoal.

What happened next is still discussed amongst scientists and speculators all around. A brilliant flash and a resolution. The tear of the void simply vanished. Some say it collapsed in on itself while others believe it must've dissipated. There had been almost no time to truly study it, and Greschev had gone radio silent. After a few weeks, it was decided that Greschev had "entered" or "interacted" with the void somehow and caused it to disappear along with him. Maybe he had died, maybe he was somewhere else. Either way, without food, air, and water, Greschev was unlikely to have survived alone this long. He would be commended yet again as a great hero of Earth and humanity.

However, something suspicious happened one day. The same shuttle that Greschev had ridden and disappeared on finally appeared again. Scientists couldn't believe it, but the readings were true. The shuttle sent the correct handshake signals and was approved for a return back on Earth. No one knew how this was possible, and everyone immediately became excited to greet Greschev again. His family, in particular, were to be amongst the first he could see again (barring time in quarantine of course).

So it was even stranger, that when the shuttle finally returned and Greschev was transported to quarantine, that when the suit was finally taken off and people could see him again, that the person staring back was not at all J.M. Greschev. The person certainly looked like a man of Greschev's height and build, but the face was clearly of someone else. Someone no one seemed to know. However, the stranger insisted he was Greschev. He could cite specific information only Greschev could know. He operated the outdated shuttle all the way back perfectly. His mannerisms were also similar to that of Greschev. But something was off. Something was different, and no one had any idea why.

"What is your name?"

"Jarak-Marco Greschev. I was on the Hermes mission to explore and document the void."

"Yes, we're aware of that. Are you aware of what Dr. Greschev looked like?"

"What do you mean? Of course I do, I'm him."

"Yes, but. We think something happened to you on your mission. Your physical appearance has changed. We're running some more test right now, but we'd like to know what you remember. It might help explain why we're seeing someone else say they're Dr. Greschev."

"I'm not sure I understand, but ok. I, don't remember much to be honest. It was just this... this white light that got everywhere. And then... I woke up."

"You just woke up?"

"Yes, and the first thing I did was operate the shuttle to go back into radio range. I wanted to get back home. The void was gone. There was no more tear."

The scientists speak to Dr. Greschev behind a thick glass window. Greschev had been given an extended time in quarantine over his curious "condition".

"I'll admit, this isn't the sort of fucking welcome I expected for going out there and putting my life on the line."

"Yes, well... we just want to make sure it was really you putting his life on the line. Doctor, we respect you very much and want to make your time in quarantine as comfortable as possible. We appreciate you cooperating with us until we can figure this out."

It had been a rollercoaster for Greschev. The near-death experience at the void had unlocked something within Greschev he hadn't realized before. He missed and loved his family and home and was finally glad to be back. Except for the fact he was now essentially trapped in the world's most comfortable prison for science experiments. In a way, it reminded him of why he left in the first place. People always wanting his help. Always needing it. Yet never offering it back. Never.