Comet's Fall 1: Ostancine

Chapter 2.1

I was wrapped in a blanket of stars. To my right I saw the moon, and to the left I saw a massive, dark and curved expanse behind which hid the sun. I averted my eyes as its brilliant rays wrapped around the expanse and overwhelmed my vision. I felt as if I had drifted into the most pleasant of dreams, nestled among the stars and celestial bodies.

My reverie was interrupted though by a harsh tug on my wrist, which whipped me into a hard surface. The space closed around me, and I felt suddenly like a bird plucked from flight and flung unceremoniously into a cage.

My head swam and my stomach felt sick.

I blinked a few times, and surveyed my surroundings. After a long second my attention landed on the hard features of the doctor, his face contorted into a scowl.

I spoke out to him, but my voice gave forth no sound. The doctor turned his back, pulled a door at the top of the cage closed, and withdrew what appeared to be a carved, brass rod from his jacket pocket. He gave it a wave, and suddenly my hearing and voice returned. I let out a bit of a moan as my stomach turned again.

The doctor looked at me harshly.

"What in the name of inquiry do you think you are doing?" snapped the old man.

I looked through the bars above me at the magnificent stars. This was no cage though. I realized that we were essentially inside of a greenhouse; however the inside was bare and lit by a single glowing orb. I looked at my hands and clothes, both of which had taken on the texture and feel of granite. I saw too that the doctor had taken on the same, stony appearance. His eyes boring into me, I said the first thing that came to my mind.

"I thought you were asleep."

He didn't seem satisfied by that.

"Some doors are kept closed for a reason," he spat testily.

At this my head cleared into anger.

"I'm sorry," I started, remembering my place as his apprentice. However, my frustrations spilled over as my stomach took another harsh turn. "I realize some doors are intended to keep worthy astronomers away from... from... whatever this magnificence is!"

His frown persisted.

"Wrong," he said unceremoniously. He pointed above us, where I saw the hallway and doorway I had just been yanked through.

"That door," he continued "is called an air lock. That door is part of a complex mechanism that assures that an unsuspecting person won't get yanked out into the cold vacuum of the upper atmosphere and killed as they drift hopelessly into the void. That door is vital to ensuring an observer has ample time to make the proper preparations for a sky walk, which takes them from my dummy office to the observatory platform."

I blinked as my head whirled. The upper atmosphere?

"It's a simple concept, Malia. I said don't open the door, because what you see floating up above us isn't my office. The platform you are standing on is, and if you are unprepared for the journey from the portal to this platform, then you will die one of the worst deaths a human can die. It's just that simple."

He turned and wandered around the space we were in, talking fervently with his hands.

"First, the dummy office has to be closed so that the observer can have an oxygen rich environment to prepare in. Then, they must transmute themselves, open the back latch, cross the chain bridge, enter the observation zone, seal tight the entrance bay, and cross through the next air lock. The checklist is nailed to the wall on the back side of the door you so unceremoniously flung open."