Lorna
Flash Fiction (486 words)
“Good evening, Doctor.” The host greets me with a warm smile. He glances down at the guest list. “Party of…”
“One,” I say. “Just one.”
He looks up, his eyes acknowledging what that means. He nods and gestures. “This way.”
I follow him down the dimly lit corridor, flanked on each side by private rooms behind sealed doors. As we pass, each window reveals a scene. In one room, a crew member sits at a table, surrounded by people who are both crying and smiling as he opens their gifts. In the next, a couple is seated side by side, one weeping on the other’s shoulder while their food goes untouched.
“Your room, Doctor.” He raises his badge over the sensor, and the door slides open. I step inside, taking my seat at the otherwise empty table.
“Do you need a moment to review the database?” he asks.
“No, I’ve decided,” I say.
“Very well. Bon voyage,” he says. He steps into the hallway, secures the door, and walks away.
The room is small and quiet. Three floating lighted orbs hover over the dining table. In the corner of the room, the screen from the stasis pod displays scientific telemetry, and reads:
Mission: Centauri Colony
Status: Empty
Time to Destination: 44 years
The screen changes to solid gray. A white circle pulsates on the gray screen, emitting a baritone voice.
“Good evening, Doctor Lorna. The Time to Stasis is thirty-six minutes. Have you selected your final meal?”
“I have,” I respond.
All I could think about was my first meal with her. A crowded spaceport diner. Her hair tousled from running to catch the last lift of the night. A laugh I would never hear again. A tear falls, and I wipe it away.
“A sparkling water with a squeeze of lime. And a cheeseburger.”
The screen produces a pulse, and the three orbs hovering over the table begin to vibrate. A meal setting materializes in front of me: a cheeseburger, and a glass of sparkling water with a wedge of lime on the rim.
The meal carries a sense of finality. She isn’t here, and she wouldn’t be coming. Too painful, she said, to say goodbye forever.
Tears stream down my face, dropping steadily onto my lap. I lean forward, and take the first bite. Time moves at an agonizing pace as I eat and I grieve, alone.
“Time to stasis: eight minutes. Please prepare for pod integration.”
I stand and step aside. The table disappears, and an orb approaches, stopping in front of my face. I part my lips, and ultrasonic waves clean the inside of my mouth.
“Time to stasis: five minutes. Please initiate pod integration.”
I step into the pod, lay down, and connect all of the pod ports to my suit. The pod seals shut.
“Engaging stasis.”
I close my eyes and breathe out. One final tear drops, and then freezes.
Not a grand last meal, not something meaningful in itself. Just the thing they shared once, in a crowded diner, with her hair tousled from running. That's the grief right there, in the most ordinary order anyone could place. loved it