Infinite Silence

By Ritika Chand

Did you know silence has weight?

No, I am not talking about the silence of bystanders who turn away from a crime. Nor the silence that lingers after the love of your life is gone.

The emptiness you face as you drift across the infinite universe was a different kind of silence. It was the silence of your soul as it faced against the void. Here, silence wasn’t the absence of sound, but the presence of something. Something huge. Imagine a phantom weight pressing down on your body, crushing your lungs and heart. That was what I was feeling right now. If I could compare this silence…it would be similar to the silence after a gunshot. Powerful and deadly. Except the ringing in your ears never stopped.

In this deathly silence, the sound of my ragged breaths and the occasional beep of the oxygen monitor felt like forbidden spells that disrupted the flow of the universe. 

I had enough oxygen to last 2 hours. Maybe two and a half if I slowed my breathing. Then nothing.

My tether had snapped during a routine maintenance of the spacecraft. A solar flare had brought all kinds of debris crashing towards our spacecraft, and one of them managed to break my only connection with the craft. The craft itself was badly damaged. If there were any survivors, they weren’t conscious enough to respond to my radio messages.

It’s a different kind of loneliness when you realise there’s no one with you in this vast space. No signs of life. Nobody to call out for help. My radio transmitter had died hours ago. 

At first, the silence had felt welcoming– beautiful, even– as it settled over my body. Overpowering my senses till I could not hear anything except a faint ringing.

The darkness was comforting and a much-needed break from the city of lights I was originally from. But as minutes had turned into hours, my brain went into overdrive. My thoughts were full of people I would never see, and unlike Earth, there was nothing to distract me from my own thoughts. 

The darkness began to feel overwhelming. This didn’t happen instantly. It approached me slowly yet mercilessly, like a predator waiting for its prey to bleed out. And when I was at my lowest, too lost in my own thoughts, it seized me with its vice-like claws.

The familiar feeling of loneliness enveloped me, this time far greater than what I experienced on earth.

But even in the dark, I could see earth. Not as the fun blue globe that you rotate in geography class, but as a giant mass of blue and white, large enough to swallow you whole. As I drifted further off, I could see my home country, India. The whole of India glowed as if tiny stars had attached themselves to the country.

Ah… it must already be Diwali. 

I could already hear my mom’s nagging voice in my ear: “Light up the Diyas already!”

It was funny. I had joined the space program to escape Earth and the struggle to just exist, and here I was all alone in the dark, missing the very mundane routines that used to suck the life out of me.

As the oxygen levels got lower, sleep crept upon me slowly and forced my eyes shut.

The last thing I saw were two bright eyes in the sea of black, watching me.

#

I wake up to the sound of my alarm and, without thinking, reach for my phone. A flurry of notifications greet me, and minutes pass by as I check each one of them.

I slept at two yesterday, scrolling through reels. Too bored to sleep, too lazy to create, yet always, a guilt tugged at the edges of my mind, whispering about doing something more. But what was that more?

The doorbell jolts me out of bed. The paper boy hands me the morning newspaper, which I place on my desk after discarding yesterday’s untouched copy. I suspect this one, too, will follow the same fate. I am running late, and to make matters worse, it’s pouring outside. Baba had called to make sure I was up I hung up when the nagging turned to scolding.

After a quick shower, I grab an apple, pull on my rain gear and step out in the roaring rain. A glance at my watch tells me I need to run to catch the local or risk another quip from my boss.

The city around me is a blur of umbrellas. Horns blare in the background, but the traffic refuses to move. I dodge puddles and weave past onlookers, too busy on their phones to look ahead. Everyone is racing to catch up to a city that never slows.

At the office, I am just another cog in the machine, handling priority tasks all day, with the occasional tea break in between. The motion-sensitive lights dim, one by one, until only the one above me illuminates my desk. I pack my bag mechanically, my thoughts drifting to the tower of unwashed dishes waiting for me at home. My movements become even slower at the thought of going home. My phone buzzes urgently, a welcoming distraction. “How are you? Let’s have a call?” It was my long-distance friend.

“Later, maybe once I reach home?” I text back. 

Later never comes.

One by one, my friends vanish, slipping away from my orbit like the distant stars.

The signs were all there: walking in pairs as they talked while I trailed behind like a forgotten relic, inside jokes I never had a clue about, reunions I wasn’t invited to. But I didn’t want to believe them until being a lone wolf had become my reality.

Home was no different. My parents worry about my future, while I struggle to just cut vegetables for my dinner. The Daily 9-5 grind more often than not turned to a 9-8. But coming home to an empty house and a sink full of grime-filled dishes was something even a sewer rat didn't deserve.

What was I living for? It certainly wasn’t for my career. Could it be painting? But painting feels like a chore. In fact, everything feels like one lately. 

I slump on my bed, imagining scenarios of the world ending. Will anyone remember to save me? A zombie apocalypse seems like the quickest escape from the grind. The loneliness.

My phone buzzes with a new notification from ISRO.

Volunteers needed for Experimental Deep Space Mission. Return not guaranteed.

This is it. 

My thumb hovers over the link. 

I might not be able to return. Ever.

Do I want to return?

I don’t press the link. Not that day. Not the day after. But the day I craved the silence of the unknown more than the company of others, I knew I had to.

The moment I pressed the link, everything in my life changed. Even the merciless astronaut training couldn’t stop me from dreaming about stars, light-years away.

#

A distinct beep sound pulls me awake. But this time, instead of sunlight, darkness greets me. 

I check my oxygen level: thirty minutes left. Falling asleep had helped me maintain the oxygen longer. And then I feel it again– that prickle. I am being watched. With the universe so vast, it could have been anyone. 

Yet I hear myself asking…” Are you… God?” My voice comes out as a sharp rasp.

No answer. Just silence.

I wasn’t religious, but I wasn’t an atheist either. Their presence itself felt so otherworldly, it was difficult to comprehend.

I look down, expecting to be greeted with the familiar blue of the earth, only to find darkness. My heart drops further as I realise I am drifting faster than before. Something had to have collided with me with enough force to throw me out of Earth’s orbit. I perform a full body check, the suit confirms: no injuries. 

My throat burns as I croak: “Did you do this?” They cannot possibly hear me, but two bright dots that resemble eyes grow larger in the dark.

I take that as an affirmation. This is the being behind the crushing weight of the silence. I feel this in my core. Yet they made no move. Only watched. 

If I die here, my body will continue to drift forever, lost in this endless space. Maybe it will someday reach a distant star and burn into ashes, scattering dust all over the Milky Way. Then I could finally say: I have become one with the universe.

Humour is a sadist. It’s always at its peak when death is near. Could it perhaps feel my approaching death? Is the being with two eyes death itself? Am I already dead?

I take a peek at the being again. Are its eyes bigger, or am I just drifting closer? 

My heart monitor displays a steadily increasing heart rate.

Then suddenly I hear it in my mind. Somebody else’s voice.

“Do you want to go back?” It taunts.

Laughter bubbles at the edge of my throat. “Do I?” I ask back.

Do I really want to go back to washing grime-filled dishes while listening to the latest mock interview questions? Because god forbid if I only did one thing at a time. I would never be able to catch up. The overcrowded metro, working overtime, and missed reunions would be the life I would be returning to.

I turn back to the two eyes. They suddenly appear a little too big for my liking. Maybe I am getting closer. But I am drifting too fast. 

The strong force pulls me into the mouth of the being. Salty water leaks through my eyes and reminds me of Earth's oceans.

A tingly sensation envelops my hand. Slowly, it spreads throughout my body and awakens a memory buried deep within me: My dad massaging the soles of my feet with hot oil. I had caught a cold the day before. 

The memory changed. Suddenly, I am back in my nani’s home. Eight of us are sleeping on one bed. It is more congested than a local, but there we are laughing and talking like there is no tomorrow.

The scene shifted. I am a toddler in my ma’s lap. Her arms move frantically as she dips a handkerchief in ice-cold water and gently places it on my burning forehead. She narrates the same old bedtime story, which I have heard more than a hundred times, but never grow tired of. I should be sick and miserable. But I am happy.

And then there is darkness. I am back in the void.

No.

I am inside the void. The Being. 

A sea of obsidian surrounds me, and each stroke of my arm creates a series of ripples that extends for hundreds of meters. I could not see the end nor the beginning of the sea.

My breath comes in short gasps, and I am barely afloat. Is this the being's stomach?

The inky water clings to my skin like a spiderweb that traps its prey, and I come to the stark realisation that my space suit has disappeared. I shouldn't be breathing, yet I am.

The water level rose steadily and wrapped every part of my body until I was finally dragged to its depths, and the last thing I saw were the eyes again. Not helping, Not Reacting. Just watching an insect drowning. 

I shouldn’t have run away because now… I am infinite silence.

Watching the universe, waiting for its destruction.

I am the Void.

By Ritika Chand