#pocketquest2023

I died on Sunday. I didn’t have time to register. One minute I was alive, the next I was dead. Dead, but not gone. This is an important distinction.

Because I’m definitely not gone. I’m here. I’m a ghost.

I think?

My consciousness lingers anyway. Maybe I have to wait until the Earth is vanquished. Maybe someone out there is taunting me. Who knows?

All I can do is think, and so I do. I think about my brother receiving the news. It was just the two of us looking out for each other in the end. Now it’s just him. I wish I could be there to comfort him.

Could I be?

I urge my consciousness to turn away, move back towards the planet. It does not. Can not.

Seems it’s purgatory for me then. Gotta watch this happen.

I picture my brother in tears. I imagine him looking at the picture of our family all together. Our sister, long gone. Our mother, who might as well be. Our father, who vanished without a trace.

A family history of abandonment. Separating us symbolised more than just freedom in the end. It was the start of a wider separation. I still have the scars where our hips once joined: where he kept the flesh, and I was saved through biomechanics.

Well, my body does anyway.

Not that I can see it through that suit. What a cold way to go.

Maybe the flashing lights have something to do with it. I’m not sure. I was feeling fine. I wish I’d agreed to stay behind. We’d fought about it. Our conversation got heated at the end. Don’t think we even said goodbye.

I regret that.

I didn’t stay behind then. But I have to now. The raiders are coming and it’s just me left. A solar system is fair game for these people. A planet will be no challenge at all. If they can get the defence grid up in time, it might at least give Earth the chance to evacuate.

Evacuating the Earth. I never thought the day would come.

I focus on the console, the system of knobs and buttons so familiar yet frustratingly out of reach.

A light winks on. I have comms. Did I do that?

Hello?

I try to speak. I can’t. My body is cold and my vocal cords frozen in their final death groan. The light stays on though. I have some influence here even now.

It takes everything in me. My body is no part of me now but whatever part of me can feel aches.

There is a flutter of movement. Someone joins me in the shuttle, floating through the reinforced hull as though there is nothing there.

“Who are you?” I ask.

I have a voice now.

The figure is barely there, a haze just visible under those ever-blinking lights. They stand beside me and lean against my shoulder. I feel a sensation of warmth.

I can feel now.

“Many souls are lost in space,” the figure says. “My name is Hannigan. My body is sleeping back on Earth. My spirit can travel here to find those lost souls. I tell you, you have a lot of free time when your work and sleep takes place at the same time.”

There is a throaty chuckle.

“I have an important message for Earth,” I say. “I can’t leave.”

“There’s always an important message, friend. You matter too. Talk with me for a few minutes and then I’ll take your message. First: who are you?”

“Matthew,” I say. “I have a twin brother. His name is Alec.”

“Where is Alec now?” “Back on Earth. I’m all he has left.”

“He will heal,” Hannigan reassures me.

I see them a little clearer now: long wavy hair, a pronounced nose and high cheekbones. I look down and see my own hands. I can speak. I can feel. And now, I can see myself.

Hannigan takes my hands. I catch the shadow of a smile cross their (her?) features.

“Life isn’t fair,” she says. “There’s always someone left behind, whichever way you look at it.”

“I don’t want him to be alone,” I say. “He’s had a bad few years. He doesn’t need this.” “Unfortunately the world doesn’t care how much we already have to deal with. No matter what the devout say. But I can visit Alec, Matthew. I will pass on whatever final message you have for him.”

Hannigan squeezes my hands. It all comes out at once- our upbringing, our separation, our family problems. Our current address. Hannigan listens and nods, and replies in kind. She tells me about her girlfriend and her cats. As we share our stories we see each other a little clearer.

“Tell him I love him,” I finish. “More than anything in the world. I miss him so much.”

“I’ll do that,” she promises. “Was there anything else?” “Uh, yes. A message for the government. Any one will do.”

I tell her about the raiders, their miles-long ships and their alien weaponry. She holds my hands the whole time. After a while I realise I can no longer feel her. I try to speak, and I can’t. I can still see her for now.

“Rest easy, Matthew,” she says softly. “I’ll take care of your brother. We will defend the Earth. You have done all you need.”

She fades out of existence. As does the ship, until it’s just those blinking lights. They too are gone. I am gone. I am nothing.