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“Hey, hey, listen! You know the Great Revolutionary, right?”
“Of course, who isn’t aware of her grand Majesty?!”
“So, she has a daughter, right? They’re always addressed as ‘The Great Revolutionary and her Daughter’ in any official capacity, right?”
“Of course!”
“Right! And she’s her biological child, too, so you know what that means, right?!”
“Can you stop saying right at the end of every sentence?!"
“Sorry, sorry.”
Up inside a cozy Air Traffic Control tower on the surface perimeter of W-72 Wertheimer were two EULR units chatting it up instead of focusing on work. The equipment in front of them projected their voices across the dead air, their giggles, laughter and jokes going unheard. Radio waves filled with life scattered to the expanse. Torrential rain battered against the 360 degree panoramic windows, yet the familiar atmosphere, two steaming cups of tea and their personal heater created a sharp contrast of safety from the unending downpour outside.
They were safe here. Tea wet their throats for what’s to come.
“So what about the Daughter?”
“Well, obviously she’s not a Replika. A biological Gestalt, a real person. You know what that means?”
The other owl took a few moments to think it over. Then, she gasped, eyes wide. “No! A… a man was responsible?” she spat the word out as if it was venomous.
“I mean, what else?!”
She racked her brains trying to come up with a different theory. “No, no! It must’ve been artificially conceived! No man could ever dream of touching the Great Revolutionary!”
“That still requires a man!”
“I refuse! It’s…” she gasped again. “I know! It’s a… a synthesized genome from… from her own DNA or - or - or another woman!”
“Now you’re pulling things outta your butt. Are you sure you wanna head that way? It’s most likely heresy!”
“It’s more - uh, more heresy if you say a man was involved!”
They jumped into a different topic without missing a beat. “Hey, if you get yourself pregnant by artificial insemination, is that considered incest?”
“Hmmmm,” the other owl sipped her tea. “Wouldn’t that be masturbation? First off, how could anyone even do that?”
‘Like I said, genome from your DNA!”
“Look at it this way; if you and I got it on, what would that be?”
“Eww, don’t even joke about that!”
“Oh, what’s so bad about me?! I literally have the same face as you!”
“I don’t care, it’s just… it’s wrong!”
“I dunno. I think it’s kinda hot? Like, in a forbidden fruit kinda way.”
“You’re certainly some sorta fruit, I’ll give you that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?!”
They giggled, everything meant in jest. These were their lives, being cooped up here in the cozy and warm tower for most of the day before retreating down into the ground for their dorms. Their mutterings were disrupted by an alarm in the panels ahead. One of them rolled up with her chair and opened up the comm channel request.
“Kontrollpunk W-72 Wertheimer ATC Tower acknowledges your request. Please identify yourself.”
A voice crackled over the air from speakers embedded inside the instruments. “Eusan Nation VKON Supply Corps transport ship CR-226 requesting permission to land. Scheduled resupply. Currently holding orbit at 50 kilometers above surface.”
The other owl checked the itinerary - yup, she nodded. Right on time.
“CR-226, Wertheimer Tower approves your landing request. Please dock at central landing pad number 1.”
“...I see it. Is that the only one?”
“Affirmative, CR-226.”
“Copy. Maneuvering to land.”
They cut the comms. One of the Eules made a face. “Ew. A man.”
“What’s with you and men? You hate them that much?”
“They’re loud, smelly, ugly and their hands are always twitching to reach out and grope!”
“Misandrist.”
“So what?! The Nation is a Matriarchy. Women are given elevated rights and opportunities compared to them.”
“And you think it’s okay to crap on men all day long when most of them haven’t done anything?”
“They’re all the same. Some just control themselves better. That’s what we need, men who know their place and keep their heads down. If one gets a little too rowdy - “ she mimicked slicing a thumb across her throat.
“Wow. Just wow, I’m… beside myself with you.”
A small lull in the jolly mood they’ve made for themselves. It didn’t last long, though; another cup of tea and everything was right as rain. They watched the panels blink their lights and the heavy rain pound on the windows. They couldn’t even see outside, visibility was so poor.
“Oh, man,” one of them suddenly stood, clutching her stomach. “I really gotta go. I’ll be right back!”
“Wait, August!“
August didn’t wait. She threw the door open and a gust of wet wind soaked them both. “Moron!”
“Sorry! Be right back!” she bolted down the skeletal stairs and headed for the central elevator that led down into the facility proper. Dutzend, the other owl, slumped back in her chair with a sigh, opting to spin herself in circles until her friend returned.
A noise from the instrument panel caught her attention. She rolled up close and checked for any incoming transmissions. All but dead air, though. Strange. No restroom in the tower, and now the equipment was acting up? How could they ever hope to get any work done here?!
August soon returned, letting another gust of wind and rain to mess up the place while she herself was soaked down to the circuits.
“August, you idiot! Look at you!” Dutzend hopped up to grab a towel and began toweling her friend off. “Did you really have to rush out like that?!”
“Sorry, but it was preferable to crapping my pants at the time!”
“What the hell did you even eat today to have an upset stomach?”
“Ah, one of the Stars threw me her ration bar! It was cheese flavored, too!”
“Cheese - “ Dutzend stuttered before tying the towel around August’s neck and choking her with it. “Cheese! Ration bar! From a Star?! Are you fraternizing with them again?!”
August choked, trying to get away. “Je - jealous! You’re just jealous!”
“Not only is it banned, you could land yourself in hot water! First time offenders get locked up in iso for 15 cycles, second time offenders for 60 cycles plus a water diet! Do you know what they do to third time offenders?!”
August managed to clear up her airway, but now she was staring afraid at her friend. “W-What do third time offenders - I mean, what happens to them?”
Dutzend leaned in close, eyes alight with fury and worry. “Decomission. At that point, you’re considered a deviant.”
August gasped. “No!”
“Yes! So stop orbiting around those idiots!”
Dutzend finished towelling August off and brought their space heater closer. August sipped on some tea, still a little shaken up from the revelation. “What am I gonna say the next time I see her?” she mumbled.
“What your programming tells you to - “ Dutzend held a finger up. “‘My apologies, comrade, but fraternization is strictly forbidden. Please, keep a professional distance. Glory to our Nation!’”
August’s lips trembled. She looked away. “Pfft - “
“Did - did you just laugh at me?!”
“I’m sorry, that’s just so dry and so stupid!”
“You’re dry and stupid!”
“Your name is stupid, you’re literally called Dozen!”
Dutzend gasped. “How could you, worst month of the year?!”
“Excuse you?!”
Then just like that, the argument swapped over to them talking about planets. Specifically, the Old World names for Vineta and Leng. Par for the course, this was; one second they’d be in the heat of an argument, the next they'd be playing a board game and swapping jokes.
Dutzend flattened out an old paper poster of the solar system. Her finger smacked the planet Vineta. “There it is, the birthplace of… well, I mean, pretty much everything.”
“Yeah,” August peered over. “They called it ‘Humanity’, right?”
Dutzend nodded. “Right before changing the name for human to ‘Gestalt.’”
“Why?”
“Why, what?”
“Why’d they change the name?”
Dutzend sighed. “Why anything, August? Control. Or illusion of control. Couldn’t take over the solar system, so they settled for changing words - “
“Shh!” August put a finger to her own lips. Her eyes motioned to the panel of instruments nearby. “I don’t think you should say anything more, comrade.”
“Hmm… maybe our little pretend ‘late night talk show’ wasn’t such a good idea.”
August changed topics. “You said you know Vineta’s old name?”
“Ah, yes!” Dutzend scrambled for a small table. She rocketed the drawer open and fished out a dusty old notebook wrapped in a loop of cloth. Spreading it open, she returned to the map. “Let’s see, let’s see. Vineta. Birthplace of humanity. There!” her finger stopped on a scribble. “Apparently, it was called ‘Earth’ back then.”
“Earth? As in, mud?”
“Yes. Fitting, isn’t it? From mud we came, to mud we’ll become.”
“Oh, brother. Don’t start waxing poetic about it.”
“Shut up! Look here - Leng,” Dutzend pointed to the edge of the system, to a little dot in the canvas out of the way. “The planet right next to us. I mean, relatively speaking. Did you know it wasn’t classified as a planet at all?!”
“Then what was it? You don’t think it fell out of the Empress’ luggage on her way out?”
“W - Wha - “ Dutzen took a millisecond to get the joke before bursting out laughing. She clutched her stomach and all, hollering for all to hear.
“Alright, alright. What’s Leng called? I mean, its old name.”
It took a while before Dutzen calmed down. She had tears in her eyes. “Empress’ luggage… I can’t. Phew, okay. Leng was… let’s see. Leng was actually called Pluto.”
“Pluto?”
“Yes, you don’t need to repeat it. Pluto, named after the Roman god of the underworld, or Hades. Hell, if you will! Fitting, seeing as how there’s tons of mining facilities on it.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold your fartin’ horses, Roman god of the underworld? The crap’s even that?!”
“Oh, uh,” Dutzend scratched her cheek awkwardly. “I mean, I read about it before, so…”
“Read about it? Like, in actual books?”
“Um, you know how the Storch Controller really likes books on history and mythology?” she looked sheepishly at August.
“No,” August balked. “No away. And you’re telling me not to fraternize with the Stars?!”
“It’s nothing serious! We just talk from time to time. She lent me one of her history books to read before bedtime, that’s all. Hey, did you know the Roman empire could’ve become industrialized if they hadn’t fallen?! They were so close!”
August crossed her arms, pouting now. “I don’t give a gnat’s butt about that - the Storch Controller, seriously?! That walking tank of a Replika?!”
“She’s sweet when you get to know her - “
August screeched. “No! No more! Not a word more about her or I’ll walk outta here!”
“And go where, dum-dum?”
“Off into the abyss, better than hearing about that monster!”
“She’s not a - ugh…” Dutzend pulled back. “Whatever. It’s not like I have anything to hide, unlike you.”
Before August could bite back, work called. The panels lit up with the sound of an incoming transmission. They assumed their stations and Dutzend opened the channel. “Kontrollpunkt W-72 Wertheimer ATC Tower here. Please identify yourself.”
Only static came through the other end. The owls glanced at each other before August scanned the skies with radar. Nothing came up on the spinning projection. “Zero radar contact.”
“This is Wertheimer ATC Tower! Identify yourself now! What are your coordinates?”
“...urt… Cessn… Exercise… can’t see … jets…”
Only barely audible, garbled words came over the air. “Unidentified craft, please switch to radio channel 51.2, see if you don’t get a better connection.”
Silence now.
“Hello? Unidentified craft, come in! This is Wertheimer ATC Tower! Come in!”
“Gone,” August announced. “Radio signal lost.”
“Crap,” Dutzen sighed. “Nothing on radar still?”
“Three thousand kilometers of sight lines. Nothing,” she shook her head.
“Note everything down - timestamps, transcripts…” Dutzen trailed off looking through the windows.
“Yes, sir,” August dropped her familiarity for a moment.
The atmosphere mulled after that. Rain outside picked up twofold, almost shaking the reinforced windows in their panes. More for the placebo effect, they lowered the shutters down anyway to block out the outside view of the pitch black whirlwind. The heater was turned up, making everything nice and toasty. Fresh cups of tea helped them calm their nerves as well.
The rest of the day passed in uneasy silence.
August was alone in the tower that day bored out of her mind waiting for Dutzen to join her. She was sprawled on one of the instrument panels, lazily stirring her tea and watching the steam rise up before dissipating.
Without fail, the rain was an unending monsoon outside beating against their bastion. Zero visibility as ever. They couldn’t even see the damn landing pad itself through the haze. It was quite an unusually slow day, too. No ship had gone through here up until this point. Had the Nation finally forgotten about their little hole in the wall facility, left them to die all alone?
Muffled footsteps on the metal stairway outside promised a change for the better. August smiled and watched as Dutzen pushed through the door in a mud-green poncho, completely soaked and dripping on the floor.
“Dutzen!” she called out, waiting for her to hang up the poncho before reaching in for a hug.
Hugging back, Dutzen looked at her warily. “What’s the matter? You’re not usually this clingy.”
August pulled back, going to get a mop and clean up the water Dutzen brought in. “It’s just so damned boring today! No one’s come through, nothing on radar, nothing on radio!”
“I mean,” Dutzen chuckled. “Learn to enjoy these kinda days. They’re the best where nothing’s happening and you can do whatever you want.”
August watched as the higher ranked Replika assumed her station and started combing through the panels. “Hey, you remember our talk from yesterday?”
“Hm?” Dutzen didn’t even turn to her as she worked. “Which part? Pluto?”
“No, no. The thing about… you mentioned what would it mean if two owls, y’know - “ she mimicked something with her fingers that Dutzen didn’t understand at first. Two blinks later she did - scissoring.
Her brow perked up at that. “Yeah?”
August looked vulnerable now. “Do you like my face?” Dutzen laughed. She didn’t see it, but August seemed hurt. “What’s so funny?! I’m serious!”
“You’re a copy of me, how could I not like my own face? It’d be weird if I hated myself. I mean, I do - “
“What?! You hate yourself?! Why?!”
“Don’t you? A little bit of self-hatred goes a long way, y’know.”
“Well, I don’t hate myself! I don’t hate anyone!”
“Right…”
“So, about the dilemma if it’s incest or masturbation. Do you wanna - “
Thankfully, before August could finish whatever she wanted to say, a comms request lit up the panels. Dutzen started ticking off her internal SoP checklist.
“Kontrollpunk W-72 Wertheimer ATC Tower. Please identify yourself.”
“...finally! Could barely reach you guys!”
A man. Muffled, most likely because of an oxygen mask. They could hear the ear rending scream of a prop engine in the background.
“Please identify yourself!”
“Right, right. Cessna Skyhawk here, JJU512. I’d give you my coordinates but that’s kinda the reason I’m calling you.”
Strange. That’s not a designation they’d heard before. August went to work rifling through their database to find out who or what this was. “What is your affiliation?” Dutzen interrogated.
“Affiliation? Civilian, I guess. Ever heard of military flying Cessnas?” he actually chuckled. “Listen, I’m in a bad way over here. This fog… I can’t see shit. Can you spot me on radar?”
“August,” Dutzen flashed August a look, who nodded back. Two seconds later she shook her head. Dutzen turned back to her mic. “Comrade, I am not seeing you on our radar at all. Can you orient yourself with a visual?”
“Negative,” they listened to him take deep, measured breaths through his mask. “It’s this fog. I can’t see anything. Flyin’ blind here.”
Fog. Was that normal? Perhaps higher up in the stormclouds there could be something like that. Wasting no more time, Dutzen activated fog lamps on the tower that could potentially pierce through the dense cover above.
But it didn’t work. The pilot didn’t acknowledge anything new.
“Can you recall your surroundings on your approach?”
That wouldn’t help much, since it was just the vacuum of space all around. The asteroid wasn’t that large anyway, only 250km in diameter.
“Uh,” he hesitated, the sound of the engine behind him always present. “I was skirtin’ along the border of Switzerland, heading up to Stuttgart before makin’ my way back to Frankfurt Airport. Tell me I didn’t end up in another country by accident, please?”
Those were wholly unfamiliar terms to the EULR units. Skirting the border? Border of Leng, perhaps, or even Heimat which was the other closest planet?
“Ask him who he’s with,” August whispered.
“Right,” Dutzen returned her whisper. “Comrade, are you with the Nation or the Empire?”
The buzzing of his engine again. “...come again?”
“Are you with the Nation or the Empire?”
“Nation? Yeah, I’m from Germany. Been here all my life - born in Düsseldorf, moved around some before endin’ up working in Frankfurt. Heh, I’ve only been flyin’ for about a year now. This is my third time by myself!”
That’s not exactly what they asked for. It reminded them of an old Gestalt yapping on about their life experiences.
Dutzen continued, trying to get this suspicious Gestalt to land so they could figure out where he came from. “Comrade, I’m going to ask you to slowly descend until you can visually acquire solid ground. You can land where it’s safe and we will retrieve you. Is that alright, are you able to do this?”
“Why do you keep saying that?”
“Pardon?”
“‘Comrade.’ That. Feels like the Berlin wall’s back up again.”
It was just the usual affix, how could they even explain it? This was becoming stranger and stranger. “Please descend slowly until you can see solid ground.”
“Yeah, yeah. I gotcha. Descending… oh shit.”
“What is it?”
“My altimeter isn’t working… actually, none of my instruments except for the fuel gauge are working! It’s all gone haywire! They’re all spinning!”
“Calm down!” Dutzen was feeling it now, the tension, the weirdness. She clutched her microphone hard. “Take slow, deep breaths, okay? First of all, make sure your oxygen is topped up and you’re not suffering from hypoxia!”
They listened to his labored breathing gradually slow, how the radio connection crackled and popped. Some high-pitched whining came through as well, making Dutzen cringe. “Comrade?”
“I’m alright,” he finally said. “I’m alright. Oxygen’s good, I’m good. Just get me back home, please. Get me home.”
While Dutzen was busy trying to coordinate with the pilot on how to land still, August flew to the little table and picked up the bound notebook again full of Dutzen’s notes. She rushed through the pages before finally ending up on the Old World names of the countries that were on Vineta before the bombing that turned it into a waterworld.
He had mentioned Switzerland, Frankfurt, Germany, Stuttgart, Dusseldorf… both Switzerland and Germany were separate countries on the continent known as ‘Europe’, while the rest were cities inside this ‘Germany’.
How the hell did Dutzen manage to get this notebook? These were deep state level secrets! Vineta was Earth, and all of these places were on Earth. It just wasn’t possible, what this Gestalt was saying. It was impossible or he was playing a very cruel prank.
She sped for the old map they’d played with yesterday, of the solar system. There was Vineta, third from the sun. The image of it was a completely blue ball. Of course, it was a waterworld with less than 1% of visible landmass. Back to the notebook now, turning pages until she saw scribbles of that continent, of ‘Europe.’
She didn’t even need to compare the notes to the map. Europe was completely drowned - had been for many years now.
“There’s just so much damn fog,” the pilot said. “Weather forecast mentioned a clear and sunny day, perfect for flying! If only I’d stayed home… son of a bitch.”
“Dutzen,” August whispered again. “May I try something? Please?”
“What? What is it?”
“Look,” she showed her the notes. “Germany… Switzerland… all on a continent known as Europe back on Vineta.”
“But…” Dutzen’s eyes danced along the notes. “But Vineta’s totally flooded, isn’t it?”
August’s eyes silently said ‘exactly.’ Something was up here. Something… strange. She moved in front of the microphone. The pilot was still there, labored breathing, prop engine in the background.
Prop engine. That was the little clue they missed on the first pass.
How the fuck, in the Revolutionary’s Great name, can a propeller engine aircraft fly in space?
“Comrade,” August started. “Can you please tell me what year it is? Local time anchoring off Leng since that’s where we are.”
“...huh? Can you help me or not?” He sounded more distant now, the engine almost overpowering his voice.
“I think something’s very wrong, comrade.”
“Fuck yeah, it is. I’m lost as a dog without an owner. Help me get home, please.”
“Who is the governing body of the Nation?”
“...shit, who was the PM again? I don’t pay attention to politics that much. Merkel, was it?”
Wrong. So horrifyingly wrong. They listened closer when the overbearing noise of the propeller engine morphed into building static - more of a whine than anything else. If they imagined it, it could be mistaken for voices trying to make themselves heard for whoever was listening.
It built and built in intensity until it was unmistakable.
Howls of the damned.
August stepped away, her legs stuttering. “Dutzen…” she sobbed. “I think… I think he’s - “
Dutzen shook her head and focused on helping him. She asked him to recall what happened before he boarded his craft and what happened after.
“...weekend, so, decided to - … - video games. Couple… beers and… then fighter jets outta nowhere - scrambled from the nearby AFB. Last thing… said to… so I banked down to lower and… land, but…”
His voice was barely audible over the howl. Almost as if memory itself was failing him. Dutzen shut her eyes, squeezed them, trying to push aside the infernal scream and listen to the man. August had curled up in the far corner, hiding her head between her legs.
“...last thing I - … - massive fuckin’ headache… and here we are.”
Thunder rolled overhead, deep and stretching. August flinched. They didn’t hear it come through his end. Whatever was happening here… well, what could they do except stay with him until the end of this strange event?
But soon enough, he realized. With finality in his tone, he finally realized what was happening. The fog, the strange ATC Tower manned by beings he couldn’t possibly begin to understand - it all finally clicked for him.
“Ah, crud. I’m dead, aren’t I?” Dutzen didn’t reply to him. She bit her lip. “Hey, still there?”
“Yes, comrade. I’m still here.”
“...good, thought I lost you. Well, being dead certainly puts a wrench in my plans, huh?”
“You’re… taking this well. I don’t know what to say, Skyhawk. I’m not even sure what’s going on.”
“Hey, that’s good! Call me Skyhawk from now on, okay?”
“Sure.”
“... I guess… those jets shot me down or something? Or I crashed? Fuck, I hope it was the jets. What a way to go, huh?”
They talked for a while, as much as they could understand each other with the massive culture gap and everything. Dutzen gave Skyhawk the quick and dirty on everything, who governed what, how the world was now. No one had any idea if he came from the future or the past.
“...the Great Revolutionary and her Daughter… Replikas… Nation… Empire… wow, and I thought our world politics were messed up. Also, wait, there’s two of you in there?”
“Yes,” Dutzen motioned for August to come over. “She’s my comrade, another universal service Replika.”
With a stuffy nose, August greeted him. “Hello.”
“Oh, wow, I thought it was just the one gal! You sound the same!”
The two exchanged a look. Dutzen chuckled. “Well, you’re right. We are the same.”
“No way. Body, face, hair and everything? Thoughts, too?!”
“Yes on almost everything. Thoughts - they deviate with experience. Our personalities evolve based on what we see and do and feel.”
“...very important question for you, Dutzen.”
She leaned in, apprehensive. “Yes?”
“If you two… um, ‘get it on’ so to speak, is it considered incest or masturbation?”
This wasn’t real. No way. Not possible. Was this just a massive fucking running joke? August, who had been sulking up until now, burst out laughing. Skyhawk laughed along, though it was smeared with crackly static.
In fact, the static grew worse and worse until they couldn’t hear him anymore. “Skyhawk?” Dutzen tried to raise him. “Skyhawk, come in! Wertheimer ATC Tower here, come in!”
When he came back almost hyperventilating, Dutzen sighed in relief. “Son of a bitch! I dunno what that was, like some… fuckin’ dark cloud just swallowed my plane whole! Barely managed to roll away!”
A storm was building there. They could hear it. Powerful and thundering, almost as if they were there in a little plane all by themselves bearing the force of the cosmos. “How bad is it, Skyhawk?”
“...real fuckin’ bad. Fog’s turned to stormclouds. Flashes of lightin’ - shit. I don’t think I’ll survive this. Um, y’know. Relatively speaking. All relative, I guess.”
“Don’t go into the storm, comrade, turn back!”
“Hard to do when I got no clue where I am!” they listened to him force his lips together and breathe hard through his nose, most likely executing some sort of maneuver. “Banking,” he stated almost professionally.
What the hell could they even do for this phantom except urge him on to try and escape - to survive, somehow?
August and Dutzen were huddled close now, with August having an arm around her comrade’s waist. Both shielding themselves from the storm through the radio.
“Help me out here, girls!”
“What do we do? What do we do?!” August whined.
“I don’t know… but we can keep calm for him. Talk to him. Okay?”
August nodded, then set her head against Dutzen’s shoulder. “Okay. Okay.”
“Skyhawk, avoid the stormclouds, those are the worst! Any breaks of light in there, can you see anything like that at all?”
“...lookin’, I’m lookin’.”
“Well, look harder!”
“Damn, woman! I get it!”
The further this dragged on, the louder the howling was - and it wasn’t just the storm. The voices were clear now, rising in tone before falling off suddenly then starting up again. It was terrifying. August held onto Dutzen for dear life and squeezed her eyes shut. “Dutzen! I’m scared!”
“I know, girl. I know. Please just bear with it for a moment longer. Skyhawk?!” she suddenly yelled.
He laughed. Actually laughed, jovially, though it sounded menacing considering the other noises. “...I got it, I see it! A break in the storm - light!”
“Follow it, it’s your way out!”
“Copy, Tower. Followin’ the light! Keep talkin’, I think it’s helping!”
“O-Okay, um! Um! Full power on engines, watch those stormclouds!”
“Copy, Tower! Full power on engines! Throttle at 110%!”
“It’s a little counterintuitive considering, but I think the light’s the only way out!”
“Smells like homemade potato salad and beer on tap!”
They were losing him, his voice barely audible now over the failing connection. But so was the howling, like hands from the void losing their grasp of him and slipping away back where they came from. “You can make it!”
“...over the crest and!…”
…and?!
Everyone held their breath. Waiting.
Then he chuckled, distant but content. “...heh. And we’re clear. Hot damn, over the horizon.”
“Did - did you make it?”
“Calm ocean below, warm sunset ahead, clear skies… I’m home. It’s beautiful.”
“Skyhawk?!”
“...thanks, Tower. I couldn’t do it without you. This is Skyhawk, signing off.”
Moments later the static overpowered him and they lost the connection. Gone. August and Dutzen held onto each other for a while longer before finally deciding to disentangle. August leaned over the panel and saw they were recording everything this whole time. She saved the last few hours of radio then played it back for both to hear.
Only their own voices were audible. Skyhawk wasn’t there at all. To an outsider listening in, they weren’t talking to anyone. Yet, whenever they recalled that he said something or asked a question, the background static spiked sharply. That was their only sign that this had happened at all.
“What just happened?” August leaned with her hands on the panel. “What did we just do?”
“If only I knew, honey,” Dutzen sighed, shaking her head. Her eyes had a thousand yard stare. “I just did… what I thought was best for the moment.”
“Did we help them?”
“I… think so?” she managed a mirthless smile. “He sounded happy.”
August approached Dutzen, who stood from her chair. They held each other tightly in that tower, comrades in cosmic horror or whatever the hell that even was. They saved the audio event to a magnetic tape and wiped it from the tower systems. That tape, even without the man’s voice in it, was still a reminder that he existed at all.
Fly on, Skyhawk.
It was almost a week later when the excitement had passed and things had calmed down for a bit. Yet, there was something nagging at the back of August’s mind about something peculiar; the notebook. Specifically, Dutzen’s notebook she kept in the little table drawer at the ATC Tower.
“Dutzen, did you write everything in there yourself?”
“H - Huh?” she was unusually squirrelly about it, avoiding August’s gaze.
“The book with all those notes in it, full of Old World names.”
“No,” she scratched her neck awkwardly then said nothing else.
“So, you found it?” She nodded. “Where?”
“...just don’t freak out, okay? And don’t tell anyone!”
“My lips are sealed,” August promised.
Dutzen sighed before dropping the bomb. “Before they started carving out the lower level, some of the owls had to pick up shifts hauling rocks out. You weren’t there at the time, you wouldn’t remember.”
August tapped her chin in thought. “The… lower level?”
Dutzen nodded grimly. “The Hole.”
August had heard rumors about The Hole. All bad, of course. The stuff of nightmares. No one except the MNHR units dared to venture down there for anything. Poor girls. “And you just decided to pick up a strange book from the spooky hole?!”
“What else was I supposed to do?! Do you have any idea how boring it was just shoveling dirt and rocks all day?”
“Oh - “ August sat her butt down hard on her chair and flicked open the notebook again. “I guess I understand… but don’t do anything stupid like that again!”
“You’re not my mother, I can do whatever I - “ Dutzen stopped, her entire body flinching. Her eyes were glued to the notebook. “August. Did you… rip out the pages?”
“Uh?” August looked down at the notebook. Nothing but empty pages greeted her back. Her fingers rapidly turned the rest over, finding nothing but a blank canvas, save for whatever scribbles Dutzen herself had jotted down in the past. The Old World names, the continents, the countries - all gone.
August charged up to throw it. Dutzen jumped into action and snatched it from her hands. “No! Don’t! It helped us! It helped him move on! Don’t destroy it!”
August immediately felt bad. She was going to destroy that little thing just because it spooked her. It wasn’t malicious or anything. In fact, it really did help someone! “I’m sorry, I… I didn’t… I dunno why I did that. I’m sorry.”
Dutzen shot her a glare before carefully stowing the notebook back in its drawer. Maybe they’ll need it for something in the future. Best to stash it away for now. “It’s okay. Just don’t touch it, look at it or even think about it from now on. Okay?”
August sniffled, deflated. “Okay. I’m sorry.”
A little hug and all was right. Dutzen looked at the windows with waves of rain cascading down them forever while August held on tightly.