John Glenn is Skating Around the Rings of Saturn

by John A. Frochio

Aaron Benson watched the gorgeous spectacle of Saturn in his window.  It was a make-believe window drawn from his memory since they wouldn't let him out of his room where the real windows were.  He needed rest.  It wasn't because he was going mad.  His mind was enhanced; madness wasn't even a possibility.  That's what they told him.

Later Dr. Nadine Heigel came for him.

She was shorter than him, well-proportioned, with striking dark features and midnight black hair trimmed short per mission requirements.

She took his hand.  "Come and see how close we are.  Are you ready?"

He wasn't sure.

"I'm ready."

She led him down a narrow passageway, up a ladder, down another corridor, into a wide semi-circular room.  The observation room.  They were alone.

She touched a control panel.  The facing wall slid open exposing a star-filled view with Saturn looming at its center, its familiar system of rings brilliant.

He said, "I want to reach out and touch them."

"Soon."

"Something, uh..."  He leaned into her, pointed.  "Something's on the rings."

"What do you mean?  One of the moons?"

"Maybe.  No.  Something else."

He squinted, then closed his eyes.

"You better rest your eyes and brain.  Let's get you back to your room.  I'll get you for dinner."

"Thanks, doc.  Sorry I'm so much trouble."

"That's why I'm here.  The health and well-being of the entire crew.  Of course, nobody expected your brain enhancements would react like this."

Everyone aboard the Saturn Deep Scan Mission had enhancements required by the Space Corps which they hoped would benefit the mission.  The astronomer's eyes, the geologist's hands, the biologist's and chemist's olfactory senses, the mechanic's and engineer's mind and muscles.

He had psychic abilities that had put him in a mental institution.  They "rescued" him and enhanced him even more.  They told him he was blessed to be part of something extraordinary.

He wasn't feeling blessed.

#

At the dinner round table, Mission Captain Oliver Wollangong pummeled Benson with questions about his enhancements, their effectiveness, and his current issues.  Was he having side effects that might hamper their mission?

Dr. Heigel intercepted most of the questions.

"I've run tests, Captain.  Until I get the results back, we don't know anything.  For now, I wouldn't worry about it.  It's likely a transitional phase, nothing serious."

"I hope you're right, Doctor.  We need a fully functioning team working together."

Benson said, "I feel fine."

She said, "I'm sure the dizzy spells and headaches will go away."

"Right.  But there's no windows here."

The Captain turned to others, leaving Benson alone for the duration of the meal.  After dinner, Dr. Heigel took Benson to her clinic for a quick checkup.

"Your vitals are good.  Why don't you stay out for a while?"

"Just stay away from windows, right?"

"I didn't say that.  You know the signs.  If you feel them coming on, get back to your room."

"They need my mind.  That's why they're pushing me.  If I can't receive transmissions from Saturn that normal receivers can't pick up, then I'm no good to them."

She didn't respond.

"It's not about my health and well-being.  It's about whether I'm a functioning machine."

"For me, it's about your health."

"They installed insanity inhibitors.  I can't go mad.  But what if my brain wants a way out?"

"Don't..."

He left her office and wandered the gray corridors.

#

The next day Benson went to the observation room alone.  Saturn loomed larger in the window, the rings brighter and clearer.

Something was sliding along the rings.  He tried to make out its shape.  The pain climbed.  He closed his eyes and staggered backwards, stumbling into a seat.

Rest.  It'll pass.

Dr. Heigel entered the room.  "Are you okay?"

"Resting my eyes."

"Test results are back."

"And?"

She dropped down next to him.  He felt her body trembling.

"Every test shows you're perfectly fine.  Except..."

"Except?"

"Except you're not.  First, your results are too perfect.  Probably because of your enhancements, of course."

"Secondly, your brain activity randomly fluctuates between normal and accelerated activity.  Intermittently, there's a high volume of interaction between your cerebrum and cerebellum, more than normal.  Your bodily functions try to compensate, which is the probable cause of your headaches and dizzyness."  She hesitated.  "Your body should acclimate."

"Or?"

"Or your brain will kill you."

"Learn to tolerate or die?  Sounds like a plan, Doc."

He'll have to learn.  Or did he even care?

#

His dreams were more vivid than ever before.  The ship was deserted.  He moved along cold corridors, stopped at a window, stared at the stars and Saturn, its circling moons, its vibrant rings.  Then he saw it.  Something gliding along the rings, a man-shaped figure, larger than life.  A familiar figure, a hero from his past long since passed away.  It was John Glenn, smiling and skating around Saturn on its magnificent rings.

When he awoke, it was as though he had stepped away from his dream and into his room, a seamless transition.

Later, he tried to recreate the John Glenn dream in the observation room.  He saw a vaguely man-shaped figure, but he couldn't discern its identity.  It wasn't as clear as it was in his dream.

He concentrated on the figure until he felt the initial inroads of a headache.  He tried every day after that.  He lasted longer each time, and every day the figure became more distinct.

One day he approached Dr. Heigel.

"My headaches and dizzy spells have stopped."

"That's great news.  Still, I'll continue to monitor you."

Then he told her about his vision.

"John Glenn?  One of your role models if I remember correctly.  That could influence what you're seeing."

"I clearly see him skating around the rings, a very large John Glenn, of course."

"Your mind referenced a revered image from your past to represent whatever is actually on or near Saturn.  Perhaps something is reaching out to anyone.  Have you heard anything in your mind that might be an alien transmission?"

He shook his head.  "I'll try to listen next time.  And I'll send my own transmissions."

"What will you say?"  She smiled.  "We come in peace?  I see you; can you see me?  Or visual transmissions—people, places, things from your memory."

"People with friendly faces.  Like you, Doc.  This could be the breakthrough we've been waiting for."

She looked into his eyes.  "Yes, this could be big.  You were made for such a time as this."

#

Alone the next morning in the observation room, he tried to have a conversation with John Glenn.  He sensed there was more than one represented by a single figure.

Could they see or hear him?  Could they feel the transmissions spilling from his mind?  What would they think of his troubled mind?  He tried to focus on happy or neutral images, but his old anxieties and troubles kept slithering in.  Go away!  He didn't want them to see the ugly side of mankind, though they'd find out eventually.

He conjured up images of Dr. Heigel.  Her smiling face, dark hair, dark eyes, her kindness, patience, calm.  That was a good image.  An image of the best of humanity.

Was he getting a response?

Something was happening...

Before his stunned eyes, John Glenn shattered into hundreds, thousands of tiny skimming things, cheerily skating the rings.  A colony.  A civilization.

Did they live there?  Or on one of the moons?  Titan?

The images faded.

He left the room with a mild headache.

Avoiding everyone else, Benson reported his progress daily to Dr. Heigel.  The Captain pushed for faster results, but she kept him away.  She insisted on no distractions, no pressure.

The day finally came when John Glenn left the rings.

He--they were skating toward them.  Thousands swarmed toward them.  A vast and frightening visualization filled the walls of his mind.  How to describe them?  Covered with spikes.  Frantic.  Spinning.  With tails of fire swirling outwards.  Not much like John Glenns anymore.

Why were they coming?

He tried to understand but couldn't make sense of the images in his mind.  One thing he knew:  Whatever they were going to do was the result of the images he sent them.

That's what he feared the most.  It was his fault.  He brought this upon them, whatever it was.

What should he tell Dr. Heigel, who waited anxiously by his side?  All she saw was Saturn and its glorious rings.

These beings from Saturn were aware of them now.  That was obvious.  They were coming to greet them.  Only he saw them—or some representation of them in his mind.  What kind of greeting would they receive?  Would it be positive, hopeful for a grand future?  Or would it be something else, something terrible?

Or maybe he had finally gone mad, making a mockery of the so-called madness inhibitors they had forced on his brain.

But he couldn't think like that now.  Now he must prepare to be the intercessor.