And Life
* * *
And there was morning, that next day. And another, and another, for the turnings of worlds and suns is not a thing that can end so suddenly.
Neither does the heart cease so quickly. Life is more stubborn than that.
In time his thirst and his hunger drove him out. In time sleep had come too, fitful and unsatisfying and like a dark shroud over him, but it had come. And when it had passed John Robinson found with great sadness that he still was, that the weight of his life had not passed, that the shame and ache of being were not things to go away so easily.
Slowly, he rose.
Walking was uncertain. He stumbled to the bathroom, stared for a moment into the mirror after he had finished his toilet. A man stared back at him, an unshaven, dirty, unfamiliar man.
A man who had failed.
A man he should hate.
Very well.
Judy met him outside, guided him to the galley. He said nothing as she did so, as she set some food before him, as he ate it mechanically. Then there was someone beside him, someone he knew.
Maureen.
I have killed your daughter, Maureen. Your eighteen hours of labor; I have destroyed them. I took our little girl into space and I let her die. I am guilty.
Punish me.
Only she did not. Maureen looked closely at him, put her arm around him and held him.
#
Dr. Zachery Smith lay on the bunk of his stateroom and wondered how something so simple, something that he himself had once tried to bring about, could feel so different once it happened.
He wanted to blame the Robot. That clattering cacophony of clutter couldn't find the barn in a barnyard, and it had led Dr. Robinson and William on a fool's errand into an unstable cave. Of course they claimed to have seen Penny, but had they, really? Had it occurred to them that in the darkness it might not have been her? Strange things lived in the caverns of this world; this Dr. Smith knew from experience. But of course, the Robinsons were always so certain they were right, were always so certain that they couldn't make mistakes, and yet here they all were, after all these years, still lost in space. Had they but had the sense to simply focus on finding a way back to Earth, all would be well right now.
Poor, dear Penny would still be alive.
The failing of Dr. Smith's logic did not faze him. His grief for Penny was genuine; even now the thought of her entombed in that hillside brought him to tears. And there was something about the pain of the Robinsons now that ate at him, that made him feel things he had long ago tried to suppress.
A starship, the Gaklak had said. In the mountain. A way back to Earth.
It had not bothered to mention that the starship would be guarded by some sort of creature, some sort of infernal fiend of the cavern.
Thank heavens I was armed.
I have to get off this infernal planet. I have to get away from these Robinsons.
Because I don't think I can cope with this kind of pain anymore.
#
Will sat quietly. The Robot stood beside him, a panel open where Will had been fiddling with something. He had forgotten what it was now, but he supposed it didn't matter.
We used to play together, he thought. We used to fight. She was such a tomboy and I would tell her that girls couldn't be something or do something and she would get mad and tell me they could. Then she would prove it. She would find a newspaper or a magazine where a woman had done something amazing and shove it under my nose and tell me that I was a retard. Or she would do it herself, and gloat over me.
And God, I loved it when she would do that, even though I said she was a booger head, because she was so smart and she always figured things out. She was my smart, tomboy sister.
I wish I had told her that.
I wish --
There has to be a way. There always was a way, before, when Dr. Smith would get us into trouble with space vikings or androids or aliens and we would figure a way out of it. All those adventures; we even got off that planet with the giant walking carrot; how improbable was that?
There has to be a way to save my sister.
Let's see. If there was an air pocket, she could survive a long time in there. There was that chasm, and it had to be old, and there would be enough air there for a long time. We could drill a tunnel down to her and get her out and God this whole damn thing would just be one big nightmare.
But the Robot scanned as deeply as it could. It scanned deeper than we could drill. There was no chasm anymore. It didn't even locate her body.
Oh, God. Her body. Not even her anymore.
Will shuddered at his own choice of words.
I want to wake up. I have to wake up.
* * *
And there was morning, that next day. And another, and another, for the turnings of worlds and suns is not a thing that can end so suddenly.
Neither does the heart cease so quickly. Life is more stubborn than that.
In time his thirst and his hunger drove him out. In time sleep had come too, fitful and unsatisfying and like a dark shroud over him, but it had come. And when it had passed John Robinson found with great sadness that he still was, that the weight of his life had not passed, that the shame and ache of being were not things to go away so easily.
Slowly, he rose.
Walking was uncertain. He stumbled to the bathroom, stared for a moment into the mirror after he had finished his toilet. A man stared back at him, an unshaven, dirty, unfamiliar man.
A man who had failed.
A man he should hate.
Very well.
Judy met him outside, guided him to the galley. He said nothing as she did so, as she set some food before him, as he ate it mechanically. Then there was someone beside him, someone he knew.
Maureen.
I have killed your daughter, Maureen. Your eighteen hours of labor; I have destroyed them. I took our little girl into space and I let her die. I am guilty.
Punish me.
Only she did not. Maureen looked closely at him, put her arm around him and held him.
#
Dr. Zachery Smith lay on the bunk of his stateroom and wondered how something so simple, something that he himself had once tried to bring about, could feel so different once it happened.
He wanted to blame the Robot. That clattering cacophony of clutter couldn't find the barn in a barnyard, and it had led Dr. Robinson and William on a fool's errand into an unstable cave. Of course they claimed to have seen Penny, but had they, really? Had it occurred to them that in the darkness it might not have been her? Strange things lived in the caverns of this world; this Dr. Smith knew from experience. But of course, the Robinsons were always so certain they were right, were always so certain that they couldn't make mistakes, and yet here they all were, after all these years, still lost in space. Had they but had the sense to simply focus on finding a way back to Earth, all would be well right now.
Poor, dear Penny would still be alive.
The failing of Dr. Smith's logic did not faze him. His grief for Penny was genuine; even now the thought of her entombed in that hillside brought him to tears. And there was something about the pain of the Robinsons now that ate at him, that made him feel things he had long ago tried to suppress.
A starship, the Gaklak had said. In the mountain. A way back to Earth.
It had not bothered to mention that the starship would be guarded by some sort of creature, some sort of infernal fiend of the cavern.
Thank heavens I was armed.
I have to get off this infernal planet. I have to get away from these Robinsons.
Because I don't think I can cope with this kind of pain anymore.
#
Will sat quietly. The Robot stood beside him, a panel open where Will had been fiddling with something. He had forgotten what it was now, but he supposed it didn't matter.
We used to play together, he thought. We used to fight. She was such a tomboy and I would tell her that girls couldn't be something or do something and she would get mad and tell me they could. Then she would prove it. She would find a newspaper or a magazine where a woman had done something amazing and shove it under my nose and tell me that I was a retard. Or she would do it herself, and gloat over me.
And God, I loved it when she would do that, even though I said she was a booger head, because she was so smart and she always figured things out. She was my smart, tomboy sister.
I wish I had told her that.
I wish --
There has to be a way. There always was a way, before, when Dr. Smith would get us into trouble with space vikings or androids or aliens and we would figure a way out of it. All those adventures; we even got off that planet with the giant walking carrot; how improbable was that?
There has to be a way to save my sister.
Let's see. If there was an air pocket, she could survive a long time in there. There was that chasm, and it had to be old, and there would be enough air there for a long time. We could drill a tunnel down to her and get her out and God this whole damn thing would just be one big nightmare.
But the Robot scanned as deeply as it could. It scanned deeper than we could drill. There was no chasm anymore. It didn't even locate her body.
Oh, God. Her body. Not even her anymore.
Will shuddered at his own choice of words.
I want to wake up. I have to wake up.