whistle sounds as he flings the rock out toward the center of the pond. Ghent flinches as he watches the rock sail out over the surface of the pond; he failed to account for the reduced gravity. The rock finally meets the surface well past the center of the pond. A large ripple erupts from the pond as the rock continues to skip along the surface. The large mirror seems to flex and then shatter under the impact of the rock. Droplets of water, flung high into the air by the spinning rock, begin to descend back to the distressed body of water from whence they had come.
Crimson blood runs down Ghent’s flaccid hand, dripping from his finger as drops of morning dew fall from a heavy-laden leaf. These droplets of blood rush to the ground and splash on the border of the water. The cool sensation of the blood as it flees from the scrape on his palm draws Ghent to look down at his palm. He lifts his hand to look upon it. Without any measure of distress or alarm he presses the small wound to his lips to slow the dripping blood. He pulls the palm away from his face and waves it through the air, back and forth, as if to nurse the cut by shaking it about.
A mouthful of blood sours his expression, and he leans over the surface of the water and spits the foul taste from his mouth. The splash of water rushes outward from the point of gathering, the pond seems to press back against the intruding blood and saliva, and then draws back to its resting place.
A change of color erupts from the surface of the water at the point of impact. A bright orange color seems to boil up from just under the surface of the water. The greenish color of the rest of the pond seems as a drab background in stark contrast with the water at his feet. A surge of brown rushes out into the reaches of the pond in front of him, the immense change draws Ghent’s attention from his bloody palm.
Lawrence:
That’s what you get for throwing stones in a glass house Doctor.
Ghent:
Uh, yeah… I guess so. Did you see that?
Lawrence:
The rock? I could have done better myself though. Wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of Doctor Mendez, so I won’t throw one farther than you did.
Mendez:
What a guy.
Ghent:
I am not talking about the rock; didn’t you see that color change?
Lawrence:
Well, I don’t know about that. Do you want anything? Mendez and I are going out; would you like us to pick you up a heart-attack in a bag, or do you want a lettuce wrap, maybe a senior omelet?
Mendez:
I swear, if you talk about fresh food again…Well, it won’t be pretty.
Lawrence:
Terrifying; just as long as you don’t try and force-feed me one of those tubes full of brown goo.
Anyway, don’t break our glass house while we’re gone, okay chief?
Lawrence and Mendez turn back up the pathway, leaving Ghent in his contemplative stupor. Ghent looks out over the pond again; the color appears to have returned to the pond-scum color that was prevalent before. Ghent reaches into his pocket to retrieve a tubular glass vial. He gingerly removes the cap with his afflicted hand, and dips the vial into the cool water at his feet.
Satisfied with his sample, Ghent retrieves a large plastic glow stick from his belt, breaks it to mix it and throws it out a few of meters. The glow stick floats for a moment and then begins to slip away under the surface of the water. For a moment or two the stick can be seen readily from the surface as it sinks slowly, then it fades into the absolute darkness below. “Looks like I’m going to have to do this the hard way.”
Mendez finishes putting her pressure suit on, just in time to catch up to Lawrence as he enters the airlock. As they are waiting in the airlock, Mendez notices that Lawrence has now folded his arms and anxiously stands, awaiting the completion of the airlock procedures.
Mendez:
Mr. Lawrence, do I make you uncomfortable? I’m wondering why you are so agitated that I’m going with you.
Lawrence:
Maybe it is because
Crimson blood runs down Ghent’s flaccid hand, dripping from his finger as drops of morning dew fall from a heavy-laden leaf. These droplets of blood rush to the ground and splash on the border of the water. The cool sensation of the blood as it flees from the scrape on his palm draws Ghent to look down at his palm. He lifts his hand to look upon it. Without any measure of distress or alarm he presses the small wound to his lips to slow the dripping blood. He pulls the palm away from his face and waves it through the air, back and forth, as if to nurse the cut by shaking it about.
A mouthful of blood sours his expression, and he leans over the surface of the water and spits the foul taste from his mouth. The splash of water rushes outward from the point of gathering, the pond seems to press back against the intruding blood and saliva, and then draws back to its resting place.
A change of color erupts from the surface of the water at the point of impact. A bright orange color seems to boil up from just under the surface of the water. The greenish color of the rest of the pond seems as a drab background in stark contrast with the water at his feet. A surge of brown rushes out into the reaches of the pond in front of him, the immense change draws Ghent’s attention from his bloody palm.
Lawrence:
That’s what you get for throwing stones in a glass house Doctor.
Ghent:
Uh, yeah… I guess so. Did you see that?
Lawrence:
The rock? I could have done better myself though. Wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of Doctor Mendez, so I won’t throw one farther than you did.
Mendez:
What a guy.
Ghent:
I am not talking about the rock; didn’t you see that color change?
Lawrence:
Well, I don’t know about that. Do you want anything? Mendez and I are going out; would you like us to pick you up a heart-attack in a bag, or do you want a lettuce wrap, maybe a senior omelet?
Mendez:
I swear, if you talk about fresh food again…Well, it won’t be pretty.
Lawrence:
Terrifying; just as long as you don’t try and force-feed me one of those tubes full of brown goo.
Anyway, don’t break our glass house while we’re gone, okay chief?
Lawrence and Mendez turn back up the pathway, leaving Ghent in his contemplative stupor. Ghent looks out over the pond again; the color appears to have returned to the pond-scum color that was prevalent before. Ghent reaches into his pocket to retrieve a tubular glass vial. He gingerly removes the cap with his afflicted hand, and dips the vial into the cool water at his feet.
Satisfied with his sample, Ghent retrieves a large plastic glow stick from his belt, breaks it to mix it and throws it out a few of meters. The glow stick floats for a moment and then begins to slip away under the surface of the water. For a moment or two the stick can be seen readily from the surface as it sinks slowly, then it fades into the absolute darkness below. “Looks like I’m going to have to do this the hard way.”
Mendez finishes putting her pressure suit on, just in time to catch up to Lawrence as he enters the airlock. As they are waiting in the airlock, Mendez notices that Lawrence has now folded his arms and anxiously stands, awaiting the completion of the airlock procedures.
Mendez:
Mr. Lawrence, do I make you uncomfortable? I’m wondering why you are so agitated that I’m going with you.
Lawrence:
Maybe it is because
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