The effects of Escherspace had been tested first on a lobster, then a dog, then a chimpanzee. The first two subjects seemed to have taken the experience as a matter of course, though the dog reportedly manifested a lifelong fear of staircases.
Without being aware of it, Lamont wrapped his arms around himself. Thanks to normalization, the Escherspace jump that they had made upon reaching the edge of the Solar system was said to be experienced as a nonevent. Based on the accounts of the other travelers on Westward, the newspaperman understood that for them, it was. But not for him.
Lamont’s visor was tucked in a drawer of his desk. A silver band that fitted over his eyes, it was meant to function something like an electronic lobotomy, suppressing higher functions in the brain and inducing a nearly vegetative state until Phobos pushed a switch somewhere that turned them off. This would prevent the wearer of the visor from experiencing the sensation of space and time folding outward, as it had once been described to him, something like a cardboard box being laid out flat. After accepting Ben Schultz’s offer, Lamont had been given a tour of a facility in which the effects of Escherspace had been tested some years ago—first on a lobster, then a dog, then a chimpanzee. The first two subjects seemed to have taken the experience as a matter of course, though the dog reportedly manifested a lifelong fear of staircases. The chimp, on the other hand, viciously attacked her handlers before committing suicide. It was then that Phobos began prototyping the normalization visor.
As prescribed, Lamont had placed the visor over his eyes and laid on his cot, listening to the voice of Phobos on the loudspeaker as the Martian counted down to the jump. At the three-second mark, the blackness was pierced by bright white static. Lamont’s mind seemed to rebel when he tried to think of what happened next, in the same way that one’s hand would resist if one tried to force it into the flame of a stovetop. Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to resolve anything except the weirdly incongruous impression of an angler fish—a monstrous creature of the deep sea, the light from its glowing lure reflected in huge black eyes as its oversized mouth, filled with needle-like teeth, gaped toward him.
His next memory was that of tearing off the visor as the voice of Phobos calmly announced a successful Escherspace jump. Lamont was on the floor beside his cot, blood trickling from his nose. His head felt as if someone had placed a vacuum over his eye sockets in an attempt to suck out his brains.
He had intended, after the jump, to tour the ship and record first reactions among the crew to being suddenly in a new and utterly unknown part of the galaxy, hundreds of light years from earth. Instead, he remained tucked in a fetal position for six hours, staring at the windowless walls of his cabin, trying to work up the courage to open his door. No one thought to check on him. Eventually, the worst of the episode passed, and he was able to venture out for coffee and aspirin. In the time since, Lamont had not heard any reports of similar experiences among the crew, who uniformly described normalization to be as uneventful as promised. Lamont, however, harbored a deep dread of the next jump.
Next: Anchor Away
Glad to have you back! I'll have time to actually read this no-doubt delightful page later in the day. :)