The Gift of Silence
24 Aug 2024Meowers
There's one thing I discovered recently, that not too many people know about. Only a chosen few, in fact. It's definitely not on the list of chatter-in-public topics and probably will never be. But, well, this is my private log and, I think... Another little confession is in order.
So, I'd even call it a 'ritual', considering the preparations and a certain degree of seclusion. And the effect it has on me. There's nothing particularly abhorrent and repulsive in it, just... Weird. And very, very personal. On a fundamental level. I jokingly call it 'vacuuming' from time to time. No, nothing to do with those antique air pumps with tubes. But, vacuum exposure.
Alright, you got it.
Humans, as much as other biological lifeforms originating from atmospheric worlds, aren't really adapted to vacuum. They tend to die. Rather quickly. Of course there's a little room for mistakes and accidents, a few seconds to react if pressure drops rapidly, but, broadly speaking, it's lethal. Blood boiling, respiratory collapse, brain shutdown, all kinds of that funny stuff. And I'm not talking about exotic creatures that thrive on high-pressure worlds, effects of vacuum on those may be quite spectacular, once biology meets physics.
At first, when nobody was around and I had nothing better to do, I tried it in a more experimental way. Little stretches, in a ship airlock, with failsafe timers and a backup air tank. Exploring my abilities, trying to find the limits, to get to know what it is like. To be properly prepared, in case. But it wasn't the right way, as I learned later. Too scientific, too utilitarian. Too focused on plain parameters, numbers, seconds, minutes, hours, degrees. Perhaps, I needed those numbers, for peace of mind, yet the true discovery came later, once I could finally let go of practical aspects and focus more on how it... feels.
When I tried to breathe, I felt something moving in my body, my entire chest moving, in an attempt to create a pressure difference. But there was less and less air around to create that difference for, until it vanished completely. And it was so... Weird. When you breathe deeply, you may feel the stream of air going through your body, especially if the air is hot or cold. Now... Try to imagine doing the same, feeling your lungs doing their job, but without that air stream.
Sounds. When the air pressure drops, our usual sounds quickly dampen, become muffled and distant, lower, but, unlike many may think, when the air is finally gone, sounds don't vanish at all. They just lose their primary medium. Solid objects can also be that medium, but not in a way people used to. Vibrations of metal, frameworks, wall panels, floor under your feet, even the ground itself, they all still exist, and, they can travel many miles further. Sounds of the body, too quiet to be perceivable, they emerge and manifest themselves, become the background. Monotone, steady thumping, hum of liquids flowing inside me, even a low echo, resonating through my bones when I walk. It's like... I can hear my own body. I can listen to it.
Obviously, speaking becomes impossible at all, even if there's nothing wrong neither with the mouth, nor with the vocal cords. They just move silently, in absence of any medium to create a sound. Any liquids left on them bubble and evaporate quickly and I can't call it comfortable, but, at least it isn't harmful for me. It's just... Unusual.
The lights. That's a whole different story... The lights are beautiful. They become so sharp, so refined, so... Crystal clear. It's like seeing the lights in their pure, cleanest form. And the way they play on icy surfaces is simply amazing, every little particle a diamond, in a world of pure lights and stark, dark shadows. Like it's the way the Universe created lights and shadows in its first day of existence.
Most people may think of spacewalks now... Not as mind-blowing as I expected. The space is the same, endless and mostly empty, everything is too big and too far away to notice the difference. There's another thing I liked the most...
Call it weirdness or morbid curiosity, but I really liked that in familiar environments, like ship compartments or rooms. When nobody's around to see it, of course. Both the effects of vacuum exposure in general, and that odd realisation that the place I am now in would be almost immediately lethal to any human or animal.
I see the same things, in their places, and I walk around, in silence... Surreal, otherworldly silence. I can take those familiar, daily things in my hands, like everyone else can do, and they look almost the same. But, silent. And only subtle clues, like sharp dark shadows, or tiny specks of dust that fall down, not swirling in the air, can tell that now, in that room, only I can be. For others, it is deadly. Or, sometimes, that thin, subtle, delicate coating of ice can give that truth away. It... It is like another dimension, where everything might look almost the same, but I know that nobody could walk in unprepared, interrupt me. It is a tiny pocket of the Universe that only I can traverse freely, without suits pressing onto my skin, without helmet visors hanging in front of my eyes marring the picture, without the stale recycled air, and without thousands of little noises. Silence and purity. Created by myself and for myself, in a little room, and I could see it in a way that's hidden from others.
And, after the curiosity, comes the calmness. I can dim the lights, or close my eyes, and just... Be. Isolated from the rest of the world around, to, simply, exist in the moment. Think of something, or think of nothing. Let my inner voice speak freely, undisturbed, in my mind, or let it enjoy the calmness and silence too. It's like... That usual, daily chaos of thoughts, that perpetual race without the winner, turns into a nice, civilised queue, every one eventually reaches its destination, turning the previously noisy highways into calm, quiet boulevards where you could walk as you please. Finally, I can dream of something without that hurry, without that sour, lingering pressure driving me to unravel the imaginary pictures quicker, until something or someone intervenes, shattering that fragile inner world.
Quite a way to have 'some time for myself', yeah... But it's true. For me, it turned out to be unbelievably relaxing. There are hundreds, thousands of annoying noises around, and, it really looks like my way of solving that problem... By turning the fundamental laws of physics against them, because why think small.
And, when I'm ready to emerge back to the world where people live... There's a little parting gift. That first breathe of thin, cold, refreshing air. That I may not need, but I like.
So, yeah, that's it... And I admit it's quite weird.