The Final Thoughts

The stars are racing in his vision so fast that they have hidden the endless black void in white plaster. Josh’s bearings are off, he does not have the ability to orient himself or end this terminal spin. His eyes are shifting focus from the heavens to the blaring red SUIT BREACH, OXYGEN LOW on his Heads Up Display, fading as the power seeps away from it. This is it, he thinks, this is it this is it this is it. 
His breath is laboured, choking down the carbon dioxide slowly filling up his helmet, poisoning his lungs. His head is light, he’s dizzy, he’s vomited at least twice already. The acidic bile stings his throat and coats his lips. He is already too far gone to lick it away. He spits defiantly, if he is to die he will not have the taste of vomit in his mouth. Still he spins and spins, further and further away from the exploding ship that has jettisoned him on his final journey. 
Josh’s thinking is foggy, clouding as his brain struggles for thought. The past, until this moment forever suppressed, comes up to meet him like an old friend. Hello, it says, I’ve always been here. You can never escape from me, it’s a shame you tried. Imagine what we could have been had you not turned away from me. Josh sees it. It has taken the shape of him, only less aged, eyes less sunken in their skull. Most painfully of all, an easy smile on its face. You could have smiled like me, it says, not tauntingly, but softly and full of melancholy. See how simple this is? 
Even now, it’s not simple to Josh, his body failing. Everything is so heavy, Josh thinks, has my body always been this heavy? It doesn’t matter now. It’s past the time for regrets but Josh is full of them. The past has always been an anchor, dragging him down and he’s dragged others down with him. He finally realises, far too late to matter. Amy, Andra, Andrew, Colin, Maria, all of him dragged down into the roaring torrent that was him. His incessant need for control, his chronic inability to compromise, to see past the end of his nose. And here he is now, spinning spinning spinning. 
Whatever countermeasures his suit had to prevent these terminal spins is gone, destroyed and unresponsive. I’d like to see the stars as they are, he thinks, instead of the LED light strip they are to him now. More regrets, more mistakes, more longings. He’s full of them. The amorphous, ephemeral Josh looks at him with pity. You spent so much time charging ahead, it says, you forgot about what got you there. You forgot to live. We never lived. You were never a person. Can’t you see how I smile? You could have smiled.
Josh’s vision is cloudy now. His breathing ragged and fast, gulping down the last drops of available oxygen. He’s tired, he’s so tired. He’s struggling to keep his eyes open. Sleep is almost upon him. He can feel his shade gently stroke his hair, moving it out of his eyes. It’s okay to sleep now, it’s okay to have peace. Yes, peace. It’s what he’s always wanted, an end to the everlasting noise. Hush now, let go. It’s okay, you’ve fought for so long.
Josh does not want to die, at least, not yet. He tries to think of Amy, the one he has damaged with his love. He hopes she will forgive him for what he did, a deep burning regret singes his soul as he thinks about the burden he was. At least now she’ll be rid of me,he thinks. Yes, she will, the memory says. I loved her, he thinks, I loved her so much it hurt. He never showed her this, even now he doesn’t realise he has never shown her this. Still, it is a thought that contents him. Helps him to prepare for what is coming faster than he would like. Only one last thing to do, he says, aloud this time, for the heavens to hear. His last thoughts turn to the God, half formed and frantic and then there is black. 
The ghost of Josh watches over him as he falls asleep and eventually dies. A gentle end for an ungentle man. There is no future for him now. There never truly was a future, even if he were not dead. He was the tool of an uncaring, militaristic regime and an effective one at that. That was a future he was once dragged into kicking and screaming. But there is freedom now, freedom from pain and expectation and regret. It is the long, silent slumber. It is peace. He is emancipated from all his burdens, he has joined the God.
And yet there he spins and spins and spins.