The Last Echoes

[AUDIO) We begin on a space station, hearing the hum of the slow turning engine. The room is large and nearly empty. ARCHIVIST: Welcome to the Archives. Our final pre-selected record for review will be from section 27: Historical Worlds. Today’s sample is from Venlor 2, the larger of Par’s habitable moons. Please note that any opinions expressed in these samples belong solely to the speaker on record and do not reflect the views of this station, the archival union, or the Collected Archives itself. If anything in this review causes listener distress or confusion please report to the nearest attendant for assistance. Potential sources for distress include mild cursing, mention of warfare and battle sounds. Please also note there will be time for questions and observations once the sample has concluded. [AUDIO] [At the sound of an electronic swoop, the sounds of the space station fade away, replaced by the sound of a quiet landing platform. Night sounds, a distant hum from the city and slight wind can be heard faintly outside. The area echoes as TRAST works and speaks. TRAST: Oh! Damnit! AUDIO: A clang as metal hits stone, a few footsteps TRAST: Spoiled. I’m used to having another set of hands around. I hope he’s settled in sir. You know your business, but he’s my son and he likes to worry. Get his hands busy and he’ll forget I’m down here for a little while. I shouldn’t need longer than that. [AUDIO] Cloth rustling,a few soft impacts TRAST: Sure am glad we didn’t ship all the part-stores along. Can you imagine me trying to fix this with what my partner has at home? Plumbing tape, thread, some really stale bread the birds haven’t gotten yet. It’d be like one of those survival adventure shows where they use their shoes ascooking pots and somehow come home whole. And you know this ship’d never forgive me for it. Every time we took off there’d be that cough saying “remember when you patched me up with bread? Hope you like turbulence you cheap bastard”. [AUDIO]: A couple of metallic clangs, a spinning click, more rustling. Small fidgets and clanks continue as TRAST speaks TRAST: Everyone’s out of the atmosphere. Stars, it’s amazing to look at. We’ve never had all the ships together like this before have we? Well, all the ships but mine. Usually what? It’s patrols of three or solo scouts. Even the big missions only take a squad or two. There must be something pretty compelling up there to get us all ordered into space. And it’s quiet down here. It really shouldn’t be. Not like we’re the bulk of the population or anything but I guess everyone’s glued to their news feeds or watching the sky. There’s no traffic sound either, almost all the ground shuttle pilots are up there with you and I guess no one has anywhere to go. Almost peaceful. [AUDIO] The rustling and tinkering noises ramp up here TRAST: Hey, when whatever this is is all over and we get back down will you do me a favor sir? Don’t tell Tef I spent half the operation on my back in the dirt? He worries, just like our son, and if he hears something was wrong with my ship, I’ll hear about it every launch. He’s already talking about retirement. He has all these ideas to visit parts of this place we haven’t seen, the neighbor moons, even some of the planets nearby and it all sounds… really good, but I’m not ready. I don’t know how to explain that. [AUDIO] Two clicks as switches are flipped TRAST: Looking good up there sir. Thanks for leaving a spot for me on the end. Just need to get this line changed out and do a launch test. [AUDIO] Another spinning, clicking sound, fast and ringing. More tinkering clicks as TRAST continues TRAST: I mean, every time I try to explain the DF to him I sound like a damn recruiting video. My family’s been Defenders since the Ihven Charge, since before this moon even had people on it, and I guess some of the rhetoric soaked in. That’s what he said when Losek joined up. Well, that and a lot of things I’d rather not put on record sir. He’s a good man. He just doesn’t like us- and I quote - “flinging ourselves face first into every bit of danger in the universe on a whim”. [AUDIO] Aftew a few clicks, a staticky boop of acknowledgement TRAST: Aha, here’s the split one. Let’s just…. [AUDIO] A few metclic clinks TRAST: Ugh. Got it. Now where’s that replacement? [AUDIO] Small metal objects clank and roll as TRAST rummages through them, mutter-singing to herself. TRAST: Right then. This is the fiddly bit so… _ AUDIO: A series of twisting ratchet sounds, clicks, gears, and a high ting end with another less staticky acknowledgement_ TRAST: There! Now just… closing up. [AUDIO] A metal door thunks as it closes, followed by the sound of shifting fabric and a person moving. When TRAST speaks next, the echo is nearly gone TRAST: Ok, now to test it. AUDIO: a high electronic chirp followed by a repeating sound, a series of pulses getting gradually quieter before beginning again. This continues as TRAST speaks TRAST: And while that’s running, I’ll pack. Hopefully there’s room left in here. Tef let the little ones stuff one of my bags with snacks. [AUDIO] Buckles jingle as a bag is dropped on the ground. More bags thump as TRAST speaks. TRAST: I keep telling him there’s a weight limit for scout ships and a weight limit for Scouts but he always tries to feed me extra when I’m home. Did that Collected fleet give you any idea what was coming, or how long we’d be up there? I may not be ready for retirement, but I do like coming home. AUDIO: The click of a switch being flipped. The packing sounds resume. TRAST: Test is looking good sir. One more cycle to go. I’m a little surprised there’s no one else on view yet with how urgent the orders were. I half figured we’d be fighting by now, or at least staring down some kind of invaders. It looks almost as quiet up there as it is down here. [AUDIO) We begin on a space station, hearing the hum of the slow turning engine. The room is large and nearly empty. TRAST: Sir? Are you… Stars, I know you can’t hear me but I hope you’re seeing this. How did they just… Where did they come from? Long range didn’t pick up a thing! Damnit I need more time! [AUDIO] A low, approaching rumble TRAST: There’re so many… AUDIO: A quick rising electronic swoop. More approaching whooshes, coming in faster. TRAST: Ground support, are you seeing this?... Yes I know. My ship wouldn’t launch. I’m down here doing repairs. … LIke ants. You’ve got t- … What do you mean all of them? We put the Surface Defense up there too? … Well we need to call them back, those ships are coming Here! I… I know you don’t. Just find someone who c- oh. AUDIO: Low, almost soft thumps, the sound of several distant impacts. A new alarm joins the rest of the noise. TRAST: Oh… I… I know these ships. What? Oh stars... [AUDIO] Amidst the impacts and far away whooshes, and the alarms sounding, a low rumble grows, louder and louder until it’s all we can hear. It ends in static. There’s a moment of silence before an electronic swoop again signals a change. The sound of the space station returns. ARCHIVIST: Today’s sample was salvaged from the wreckage of a small scout ship after the Great Glitch. There is no record of the identity of the invaders. The moon’s inhabitants and its orbiting defense force were completely destroyed. Work is still being done to rebuild a settlement on both of the Venlor moons, as the centuries of work on the surface’s soil is too precious to lose. Both moons will be repopulated shortly and will add substantially to the food capacity of the Collected Worlds. Meanwhile, the search for the invading force continues. This concludes today’s record, and the list of records pertaining to your inquiry. If you have any questions or wish to comment on today’s experience, please visit an attendant and they will happily record your response. I am afraid I cannot stay. I wish you wisdom in your decision, and luck. Thank you for hearing us. MUSIC[ A sparse, lonely repeating motif with a sound like crystal, a shifting bed of strings underneath. CREDITS: The Last Echoes is written by Trace Callahan with editing by Evan Tess Murray. Direction is by Evan Tess Murray. Sound design and music are by Trace Callahan. This episode features Ishani Kanetkar, Chijioke Williams, and Trace Callahan. We are so glad you’re here to share these stories with us. You can, find us online at Lastechoespod, on Twitter, the Fediverse, and Tumblr or visit our website <a href="http://lastechoes.com" rel="nofollow">lastechoes.com</a>. We’d love to hear from you. Thank you to our season one supporters, including Maddie, Rebekah, Kate, Anne, Christopher, Holly, Tina, Stephanie, and Caroline. Keep telling your story, the workplace chats and projects, the time with family, and the quiet times alone. Together, our stories make our whole world. And when all that’s left is an echo, no one’s voice is small.

[AUDIO) We begin on a space station, hearing the hum of the slow turning engine. The room is large and nearly empty. ARCHIVIST: Welcome to the Archives. Before we begin, a note. I have been informed that the record from our last session was judged as inappropriate and irrelevant in relation to the central question. I have therefore been asked to offer an apology, and suggest you ignore the contents of that record in your deliberations. I apologize for wasting any of your time and hope you will hear only what you need to, in future. Our record for review today will be from section 27: Historical Worlds. Today’s sample is from Meandall, which while never part of the Collected, has often been a key part of our region’s history. Please note that any opinions expressed in these samples belong solely to the speaker on record and do not reflect the views of this station, the archival union, or the Collected Archives itself. If anything in this review causes listener distress or confusion please report to the nearest attendant for assistance. Potential sources of distress include mention of a plague, mention of death, and discussion of medical symptoms. Please also note there will be time for questions and observations once the sample has concluded. [AUDIO] [At the sound of an electronic swoop, the sounds of the space station fade away. They are replaced the sounds of a city. Distant and not so distant traffic whizzes by quickly, breaking up the dull rumble of hundreds of generators. Close by, machines hum and whir with an almost musical regularity. These sounds continue uninterrupted throughout the recording. ELPAN DRIST: [with a sigh] All right, here goes. Day 47 - Evening report, second ward South. Dr. Elpan Drist recording. Since this morning’s report, we’ve lost three patients. Two, I mentioned then as critical. The third was a surprise. She still had both her sight and sense of smell as of a few hours ago. Her decline was quick and complete. With these three the ward has lost a total of thirty-seven patients within the last two weeks, just over thirty percent. And… I think we’re supposed to be celebrating. A thirty percent loss two weeks after symptoms present is drastically better than our control ward, which has had between sixty-five and seventy-five percent losses in that timeframe. Half the loss. It’s a good sign for the regimen we’re testing. Although loss of sight is usually the first symptom, our recent success seems to have less to do with preserving any of the senses, and more to do with addressing the issue of muscle control. In the final stage, almost all patients struggle both to breathe and swallow. It may seem like a step backwards but we’ve decided to ignore the recent trials which preserved sight and focus on our three longest-term survivors. ELPAN DRIST: Our research team has a few more tweaks we’d like to make before we start with the next round of patients, and we’re hopeful tha- No. No I- I I…. I can’t. I- I mean, Who’s listening to this report? I know none of my recordings are making it to the general public, and you’re going to add as much spin and hope as you feel necessary no matter what I say, so what the hell? Thirty percent in two weeks. More than half of the world infected and that number growing how quickly now? Are we gonna figure out this cure while there are still any people left to use it? I read the news, even in here. Shutting down the shipyards for upgrades? You mean shutting them down because there aren’t enough healthy and skilled people to keep them going anymore. You need us all here on the ground in the hospitals and food plants. And even we’re spread thin. I asked for two replacement staff a week ago. After all, not all of the thirty-seven started off as patients. We’re doing our best, but we’re tired, and there are only so many hands. We’re making mistakes, and I… It doesn’t matter. We all know it wouldn’t have saved him. No one un-withers. ELPAN DRIST: I wish I could say these words in person. I wish whoever listens to these was down here with the sound of all these people breathing, and the smells, and the waiting that’s heavy enough to feel in the air. I’m sure you’re in the sky where everything’s still clean, breathing filtered air, making choices. Maybe if you were down here you’d make better ones. Maybe your pride wouldn’t be so loud if you had the noise of the ward around you. They offered us an alliance, twice. They offered us help, food and medicine and enough people to keep the world going. It’s not like it was before. We’re not better than them. We’re dying. Who cares who’s in charge of a sick world? Who cares what flag we fly? If you were down here you’d- [sigh] But you’re not. I am, and I don’t make policy. You sent me here to cure the Withering, and I will. So fine, back to the test. This new regimen seems to preserve sight the longest. We’re still not sure why. Several of our patients have held on for more than six weeks, although their muscle control and strength faded just as quickly as the rest. Of the first group, three are still… here. We’ve been testing them daily for new antibodies, cellular changes, altered brain activity since no one can seem to figure out exactly what the Withering is attacking. Without that, we’re just stabbing in the dark. I can’t believe I’m saying this. I know I should just leave the report there and go back to my rounds, but… ELPAN DRIST: We’re running out of time. We’re running out of people, and supplies, and energy, and hope. So while I still have a little of that last thing left I have to at least try. Save us. Please. Send them a message and ask to join them. Let them set conditions. Give them all the tech and ships and data they could ask for. Beg, if you have to. Take a page from my book there because I’m begging you. Either get their help saving us, or get as many healthy people away from here as you can before you lose everything. Leave me. Leave my patients and my crew and everyone in the other wards. We’ve been exposed so much we’re a danger but I know you’ve managed to keep some areas safe and free of this. So even if you can’t save us all, keep the ones you can. We’ll keep working on the cure, but just… save us. Elpan Drist signing off. End recording and send. [AUDIO] An electronic swoop again signals a change. The few sounds of the city fade away and the sound of the space station returns. ARCHIVIST: Today’s sample was the last logged report of a doctor Elpan Drist, one of Meandall’s specialists in infectious diseases. Meandall presents an interesting example. As the recording hinted, they were offered membership more than once, most likely due to their reportedly superior ship-based technology. They declined each offer. Unfortunately, by the time a cure was found in one of the Collected worlds, the population of Meandall was too far gone to be restored or resettled as a whole. Their remaining people were absorbed by nearby worlds and their land and infrastructure sold to offset the cost. This concludes today’s record. If you have any questions or wish to comment on today’s experience, please visit an attendant and they will happily record your response. [AUDIO] With a softer swoop, the sounds of the hall fade out to be replaced by the sound of a smaller, softer room. An office. FIRST ATTENDANT: Better. Gloomy, but better. ARCHIVIST: I.. I’m… heh, I’m glad you approve, ma’am FIRST ATTENDANT: Showing them the consequence of independence. I suspect they’ve learned the lesson we intended. One more, Archivist. We’ll give them one more session to make up their minds. Make it count, won’t you? MUSIC[ A sparse, lonely repeating motif with a sound like crystal, a shifting bed of strings underneath. CREDITS: The Last Echoes is written by Trace Callahan with editing by Evan Tess Murray. Direction is by Evan Tess Murray. Sound design and music are by Trace Callahan. This episode features Mike Cuellar, Chijioke Williams, and Trace Callahan. We are so glad you’re here to share these stories with us. You can, find us online at Lastechoespod, on Twitter, the Fediverse, and Tumblr or visit our website <a href="http://lastechoes.com" rel="nofollow">lastechoes.com</a>. We’d love to hear from you. Thank you to our season one supporters, including Maddie, Rebekah, Kate, Anne, Christopher, Holly, Tina, Stephanie, and Caroline. Keep telling your story, the hands held and tears shed, the hugs and long, winding talks. Together, our stories make our whole world. And when all that’s left is an echo, no one’s voice is small.

Details

Recent Episodes