2075 - Space Corps Central Command Office

Harlow remembered nothing of the rest of that day. He thought he might’ve woken up once or twice, only to speak a few words before slipping back into a fitful, restless sleep, but it may have been a dream; he wasn’t sure. All of it blurred together.

But the dreams eventually dissipated, and he drifted back to reality. As he opened his eyes, the ceiling slowly came into focus, and he tried to gain his bearings as he surveyed the room in a state of near-stupor.

The first thing he noticed was that he was in his bed, rather than on the bathroom floor. He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten there, but he didn’t have the presence of mind to question it. He also couldn’t say how much time had elapsed, but then he remembered that he was supposed to meet with General Conrad. At this unpleasant reminder, he rolled over—a herculean effort that took most of his energy—and looked at the clock, but then he frowned.

The time wasn’t right. It couldn’t be. The clock said 11:25, but that meant he’d only been here for an hour, and he felt as if he’d slept for a year. Then, as a bit more of the fog cleared from his mind, he looked around the room, and as his eyes landed on the calendar beside the door, he saw the date.

Tuesday, August 27.

He’d been asleep for over twenty-four hours.

He jolted to a sitting position and tried to stand, but nearly fell over.

As always, though, Victor wasn’t far. He must’ve been waiting outside, because at the sound, he rushed into the room.

Harlow gritted his teeth as Victor gripped him firmly beneath the arms, supported his full weight, and helped him settle back onto the bed. Much to his chagrin, he silently conceded that he needed the help.

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“Don’t try to get up,” Victor said. “The pills haven’t worn off yet.”

“What . . . pills?”

“Your headache medication. You took three of them.”

Harlow stared at him.

“Before you say anything—I know,” Victor continued. “I’m aware of the dosage limits. But you asked for a third last night, so I gave it to you, because that was the worst state I’ve ever seen you in.”

Harlow looked away and sighed. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

Victor nodded. “Don’t overexert yourself. It’ll take a while to clear your system.”

Harlow sat there for a moment absorbing these words. “Did I miss anything important while I was sleeping?”

Victor declined to answer. He simply closed his eyes and drew a deep breath.

Harlow studied him closely. “If the answer was ‘no,’ you would’ve told me. What happened?”

Victor tensed slightly, stood up straighter, and opened his eyes. “I was waiting outside for a reason,” he said. “I know you’re in no state to hear bad news, but there’s something you should know. Something that can’t wait.”

Harlow frowned, but before he could respond, Victor spoke again.

“I could tell you,” he said, “but I think I’d be better off simply showing you.”

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Fifteen minutes later, Harlow was back in his office, looking worse than ever. His coat had been hastily draped over his shoulders, and he could feel the heaviness in his eyelids and the persistent shaking in his extremities. But there was little fear of being judged for his appearance—the door was locked, and Victor had posted a message saying no visitors would be received that morning.

So there Harlow sat, bleary-eyed and listless, watching as Victor scrolled through security footage in the monitor on his desk. It was a cacophony of static images—sped up, then slowed down as he searched for the right moment—all of which Harlow remembered as sleepy blackness.

He observed it all with a disinterested, apathetic stare, then looked away.

“I don’t even want to think about how much shit must’ve piled up while I was sleeping,” he said absently. “I was supposed to meet with General Conrad . . .”

“Conrad can wait. This is more important.” Victor didn’t even spare him a look as he stared at the monitor. He was fully engrossed in it, but then he hit the pause button and rewound a bit.

“There,” he said, pointing at the screen. “This is from last night.”

Harlow leaned forward and squinted, but all he saw in the image that lay frozen before him was the empty vestibule outside, black and white and grainy.

“What am I supposed to be looking at?” he asked.

Victor took a deep breath.

“Just watch,” he replied as he un-paused the screen.