Tevun-Krus #122 - Synchronicity

Stonefall - a short story by @theidiotmachine

Stonefall

By theidiotmachine

Edgar stared out at the sky as the stones fell. The machines whirred and beeped behind him, calm in the storm; and the habitat windows rattled as rocks bounced from them. He took out a cigarette, and hating himself, lit it, and the blue smoke curled around him and caused the air purifiers to spin into overdrive.

'That'll kill you, you know,' Derek the AI said.

Edgar was silent; he tried to savour the hot, sharp smoke as it sank into his lungs.

Outside, everything was sinking in gravel as the sky poured its anger onto the land. With a pathetic bleep the communications array gave up, the last antenna destroyed by the stone fall. There was no one to speak to, so it didn't matter, but it probably meant something.

Edgar pulled on the cigarette. The tip hissed and glowed.

He had three left.

'Oh. That's what this is about,' Derek said. 'A year since she... Edgar, as your friend, I really think that you should... do... something. It's not healthy.'

The clouds replied for him, stones thudding from the walls and windows of the dome, each landing with a reprehensive bang. The habitat shook around him.

Edgar took a final drag on his cigarette, enjoying the crackle of the tobacco and paper, the way the nicotine rushed into his lungs and brain; then he stubbed it out onto a metal tray and leaned back, exhaling and imagining he was somewhere else.

The storm broke and the sky cleared; and a weak, blond sun bathed the habitat in a bleak light.

#

The sea was only half a day's walk. That's why he'd come here, set up this habitat, slogged across half a continent: to see the sea.

Gravel crunched under the sled's runners, the pebbles that the sky had spat yesterday. The sun was low and uncaring, and the stone clouds hung far to the north, pelting somewhere else. Edgar didn't care, and the sled loved this kind of terrain; its simple mind was full of glee at the way that its skids clattered over the rocks and grit.

After an hour, he could smell the sea. Fifteen minutes later he could see it, huge grey waves crashing haplessly over a stoic stony beach, everything grey and blunt and primal.

'Edgar, I wanted to say that I'm sorry,' said Derek, his tinny voice sharp in Edgar's earpiece.

Edgar unpacked a scoop and waders from the sled. He pulled the long yellow boots over his feet and legs. The colour looked incongruously bright in the grey dawn. He pressed a button on the scoop's handle and it hummed to life.

'It wasn't your fault. This planet is strange. I know they died on the day that you argued with Mira, but those two events aren't linked. They can't be. That's not how weather works.'

Edgar walked down towards the shore, where the grey water flopped onto piles of stones. The acid rain would fall tonight, eroding the limestone; and then through some process he didn't understand, the calcium-heavy water would be swept up into the sky and form into pebbles, and it would rain stones again. It had been doing this for exactly a year.

He splashed into the water, the cold pervading even through his boots. The noise and smell of the sea filled his senses, the white noise of the waves almost obliterating Derek's voice.

'I know that you think that you were responsible, Edgar. But you're not. It was just one of those things.'

Dipping the scoop into the water wasn't hard, but he didn't want to lose his balance and fall; so he used as much care as he could, inching the long metal rod down before pressing the button and capturing a sample. Then he turned and trudged back up the shore to the sled, his boots covered in scummy foam, his legs cold.