THE BIG BLACK (tw: depression, suicide)
24 May 2024ShinydanUK
LHS 3447 A 2 LA COSA BASE
2 APRIL 3310
"Remind me, Commander Howell - how old are you?"
I tried not to shuffle in my seat. This androgynous and nameless Trainer, clad in a grey suit that was nearly the same colour as the base walls behind them, had spent the last fifteen minutes trying to prove something I couldn't make myself understand, no matter how hard I tried. But I needed to: they were the last person who could stop me from gaining my pilot's licence, and I didn't want to screw this up. I couldn't.
"Forty-seven, Trainer. But my reflexes are still up to scratch, and I've passed all the -"
They were shaking their head. Whatever obscure clause of Pilot Federation code I'd managed to fall over, it wasn't the practical.
"Commander, I've been trying to put this to you gently, but I think I've run out of options. What would you say the average age of your practical cohort was?"
I shrugged defensively. "Twenty-something, probably. Some of you kids go in for body-mods that make it hard to tell. But I wasn't the oldest in the room, either."
Kids. Damn it, I hope the wince I just felt didn't make it out to my body language, or I was going back home to Rana. Forty more years of shoveling data that three people cared about. No thank you.
"No, Commander, you weren't. But..." They sighed, heavily. What was going on here? What didn't I know about?
"I will have to be blunt. There are usually three reasons that someone of your age goes into the black. Some of you get caught with your hands in the till - or the secretary - and they come out to avoid the consequences. A few of them even succeed. Some of them look into the mirror one morning and react in terror to their first grey hair, or when it starts to disappear entirely."
There was nothing I could do to stop my hand touching my own bald pate at this point. But I'd come to terms with that a long time ago.
"Trainer, " I said, unable to keep the snap out of my voice no matter what it might cost me, "I lost my hair at twenty. Blame my father if you want, but not me. Where are you going with this?"
"I didn't think you were one of the mid-lifers, Commander Howell. If pushed, I'd have to say 'end-lifer' instead."
The uncomfortable silence that had been circling the room for the last twenty minutes finally descended. I was never particularly good at keeping eye contact with people, but at this point, looking the young Trainer in the face was impossible. For some reason, the floor demanded my full attention. In a poky room a hundred light-years from home, with no-one to go home to, all the long nights staring wordlessly out of a window as the star set again, again, again, had finally caught up with me.
The Trainer's voice was gentle, at last. "Mr Howell, you're quite right. You passed the physical, practical and theoretical examinations with flying colours. But I am your psychological assessor. And we can't let someone out into the big black if their actual flight plan is to fly into the nearest planetary settlement at multiples of light-speed. So you're going to have to tell us, tell me, the things you haven't told anyone so far. Otherwise I'll have to fail you. For everyone's good."
So the doctor back home was right. It turns out that the fastest thing in the universe isn't light, it's pain. I managed to choke the necessary words out.
"Trainer. My daughter is twenty now. She has a life of her own. And it's a big galaxy."
Was that a ghost of a smile on the Trainer's face? "Most of which no-one's ever seen."
"A year ago yesterday, my husband asked for a divorce. Our wife didn't object, and the decree came through nine months ago. I've spent the time since then getting out here and getting ready. Don't get me wrong, we're all still friends. That's pretty much all we've been for a decade. It's been...comfortable. But once my daughter moved out..." I trailed off. I wasn't able to finish the thought myself. Even now, my mind insisted on veering away.
"You felt surplus to requirements."
"It was a big house. Five bedrooms for one person seemed silly. Pointless. So I sold up and came out here. I was good at my job, but..."
The words were true, but they weren't right. Or properly honest, either. Honesty seemed to be the way through. The pain would be waiting for me, later.
"I want my name on the books, Trainer. Permanently in humanity's records. Something that can't be taken away. That can't hurt anyone. And then - "
"You have to come back for that to happen, though."
"What?"
"So you fly your ship out, and you find your rock-ball world, and you plant your metaphorical flag. Then you have to come back and prove that you did it. It's one thing to say you heard a tree fall in a forest, Commander, but you have to bring the logs back home before anyone will believe you. Sharing the truth with other people, that's what makes it count."
The silence landed again. I knew I was going to spend a good hour in my hotel room with the sonic shields up, screaming and yelling and crying my eyes out at the unfairness of it all, at how easy it was to lose everything that mattered to you in the space of two sentences. At how little any of it mattered. At the lightness of love.
"I've decided to approve your licence, Commander. Your reaction to this conversation has reassured me that you're of sound enough mind. But please, take my advice. Leave the Bubble, of course. Go and find your world. But then look at it. Really, really look. Your Sidewinder is an excellent ship. But it's a terrible coffin."
The door closed behind them. I felt my pocket comm buzz as my permits and approvals started to download. It would strike me as ironic, later, that the success I'd spent the last nine months chasing ended up feeling so empty. Yeah. Right on, Commander.
--
"THE BIG BLACK" is part one of an ongoing story.
If you've been affected by issues similar to the ones I've talked about here, help is available. Reach out, please.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_suicide_crisis_lines