Bastion Science Fiction Magazine - Issue 7, October 2014 Read Online Free Page A
Author: Manfred Gabriel Alvaro Zinos-Amaro Jeff Stehman Matthew Lyons Salena Casha William R.D. Wood Meryl Stenhouse Eric Del Carlo R. Leigh Hennig
"No, I see images. Starbursts. Like the helixes I drew. You knew what they were."
"Ah." He looks down at his cup, turns it around in his hands before looking back at me. "I do know what they are. What you are seeing are called phosphenes. They happen when the brain is stimulated, by various means. Astronauts see them because they pass through the radiation belts around the Earth."
"Yes. That's what I see. The cosmic rays here make me see these images—"
But he is shaking his head. "Gemma, the radiation is closest here, but it's still two hundred kilometres up. Only very, very tiny amounts would make it through the atmosphere. Barely more than would normally be found at sea level anywhere. It's not—The Van Allen Belt is not causing your phosphenes. Your images."
"Then how come I can see them?" My chest struggles for air. "I can draw them for you, prove that they're just like what the astronauts see." I put down my cup, but too hasty, and it tumbles off the bench, shattering on the tiles and splashing his shoes. I drop to my knees, trying to gather the shards in shaking hands. I feel a sharp pain. Bright blood wells on my fingers.
"Gemma." He is there beside me, taking my hands, pulling me to my feet. "Don't worry about the cup." He sits me back on the bench and comes back with a first aid kit. I cup my injured hand, watching the blood well and drip. At each beat of my heart there is a tiny pulse of pain in my finger, and from each pulse a flower blooms, sticky-black.
The sting of the antiseptic fills my vision with churning spirals. "I can prove to you that I see them."
He is quiet while he applies a Band-Aid. "I'm not doubting you, Gemma. Phosphenes are a well-documented phenomenon."
"Then why won't you believe me?" His face is close to mine. He smells of salt and sweat.
"I believe you. It's just—" He puts the kit on a bench and pushes the biscuit tin aside to sit next to me. "Phosphenes have all sorts of causes, not just radiation." He is holding my hands in his, gently. Like they might break. His palms are soft, not hard and scratchy like the men of the island. "Sometimes you might see them if you bang your head, or tap your eye. Some people with low blood pressure can see them, because the pressure affects the blood vessels at the back of the eye. Dying people see them. I've seen them sometimes, after a sneeze."
"Well I'm not dying. And I'm not banging my head." I look up at him. "What other explanation is there?" My voice breaks with the weight of every dead night-time dream.
"Well, sometimes they, ah—" He purses his lips. "Sometimes they can be caused by a genetic anomaly in the brain. Random firing of neurons."
Genetic. I pull my hands away. I know what that means. I know what he is trying to say. "You think I'm inbred, like the rest of the people here."
"That's not what I said, Gemma."
"Well if that's so, then why can't anyone else here see them?" I'm standing over him now, my head only just above his. "If it was breeding, then everyone here would be able to see them. But they can't. Only me. I'm not like them. My mother wasn't born here."
"Well, maybe it came down from your mother's side. But Gemma, your phos- your visions can't be caused by the Van Allen Belt radiation. It's just not possible."
His voice is kind, but with it goes my hope of escape. I have failed to convince him. I can feel the tears running down my cheeks.
"Gemma—"
There is a booming crash and the shutters along one side all bang at once, sending jagged lightning strikes across my vision. The wind has come, and it howls around the house. Now I can hear the roar of the ocean, stirred to a frenzy.
Luca jumps up and opens the door, then shuts it just as quickly as salt spray is blown in by the wind. I think of my father's bike, and wonder if it will be there in the morning.
Luca leans against the door. "It's all water out there, Gemma. You'd better stay here until it goes down."
I nod. I know this. I had planned this, to be
"Ah." He looks down at his cup, turns it around in his hands before looking back at me. "I do know what they are. What you are seeing are called phosphenes. They happen when the brain is stimulated, by various means. Astronauts see them because they pass through the radiation belts around the Earth."
"Yes. That's what I see. The cosmic rays here make me see these images—"
But he is shaking his head. "Gemma, the radiation is closest here, but it's still two hundred kilometres up. Only very, very tiny amounts would make it through the atmosphere. Barely more than would normally be found at sea level anywhere. It's not—The Van Allen Belt is not causing your phosphenes. Your images."
"Then how come I can see them?" My chest struggles for air. "I can draw them for you, prove that they're just like what the astronauts see." I put down my cup, but too hasty, and it tumbles off the bench, shattering on the tiles and splashing his shoes. I drop to my knees, trying to gather the shards in shaking hands. I feel a sharp pain. Bright blood wells on my fingers.
"Gemma." He is there beside me, taking my hands, pulling me to my feet. "Don't worry about the cup." He sits me back on the bench and comes back with a first aid kit. I cup my injured hand, watching the blood well and drip. At each beat of my heart there is a tiny pulse of pain in my finger, and from each pulse a flower blooms, sticky-black.
The sting of the antiseptic fills my vision with churning spirals. "I can prove to you that I see them."
He is quiet while he applies a Band-Aid. "I'm not doubting you, Gemma. Phosphenes are a well-documented phenomenon."
"Then why won't you believe me?" His face is close to mine. He smells of salt and sweat.
"I believe you. It's just—" He puts the kit on a bench and pushes the biscuit tin aside to sit next to me. "Phosphenes have all sorts of causes, not just radiation." He is holding my hands in his, gently. Like they might break. His palms are soft, not hard and scratchy like the men of the island. "Sometimes you might see them if you bang your head, or tap your eye. Some people with low blood pressure can see them, because the pressure affects the blood vessels at the back of the eye. Dying people see them. I've seen them sometimes, after a sneeze."
"Well I'm not dying. And I'm not banging my head." I look up at him. "What other explanation is there?" My voice breaks with the weight of every dead night-time dream.
"Well, sometimes they, ah—" He purses his lips. "Sometimes they can be caused by a genetic anomaly in the brain. Random firing of neurons."
Genetic. I pull my hands away. I know what that means. I know what he is trying to say. "You think I'm inbred, like the rest of the people here."
"That's not what I said, Gemma."
"Well if that's so, then why can't anyone else here see them?" I'm standing over him now, my head only just above his. "If it was breeding, then everyone here would be able to see them. But they can't. Only me. I'm not like them. My mother wasn't born here."
"Well, maybe it came down from your mother's side. But Gemma, your phos- your visions can't be caused by the Van Allen Belt radiation. It's just not possible."
His voice is kind, but with it goes my hope of escape. I have failed to convince him. I can feel the tears running down my cheeks.
"Gemma—"
There is a booming crash and the shutters along one side all bang at once, sending jagged lightning strikes across my vision. The wind has come, and it howls around the house. Now I can hear the roar of the ocean, stirred to a frenzy.
Luca jumps up and opens the door, then shuts it just as quickly as salt spray is blown in by the wind. I think of my father's bike, and wonder if it will be there in the morning.
Luca leans against the door. "It's all water out there, Gemma. You'd better stay here until it goes down."
I nod. I know this. I had planned this, to be
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