The Big Zero - Gravity

I reached out swiftly for my hat as it slipped from my head, then hastily ducked back through
the maintenance hatch. The yellow plastic object tumbled rapidly into the distant pink haze,
and I knew it was very thoroughly gone.

Luckily, I had been taking my time, but still, what is a maintenance worker without their hard-
hat?

It appeared to be one of those ubiquitous aspects of intergalactic society; receiving one was
practically the first rite of passage upon arrival at The Big Zero, regardless of one's
designated role. In hindsight, that should have been an indication of something. The
personal issue firearm was another hint. Despite being settled for as long as any of the
resident species could recall, The Big Zero remained a perilously unpredictable and
dangerous place.

This inherent danger was partly the reason I found myself there, gripping the rungs of a
ladder that led to an access hatch opening into the chamber beyond. With a healthy dose of
suspicion – always advisable on this moon-sized space station – I had cautiously poked my
head through. Almost instantly, yet not swiftly enough, I registered the shift in gravitational
direction, a seemingly whimsical choice by the designers in various sections of the station.
Below my shoulders, gravity pulled downwards; above them, it abruptly reversed. My hat,
seizing the opportunity, had fallen upwards, escaping from my head with alacrity. I exhaled a
resigned sigh, feeling oddly bare without it.

In my left breast pocket, Jarlish made his displeasure known, having narrowly avoided an
abrupt trip into the void himself. Distracted I mollified him; well actually I just pushed him in
deeper and buttoned the pocket closed. This action was generally regarded as both
disrespectful, indecorous, and very much frowned upon in polite society, but it wasn’t as if
there was anyone around and frankly I was tired of his griping.

The squirrel-like creature wriggled uncomfortably in his newfound fabric prison, a sensation
that was equally distracting for me given where he was. The thought of being carried in a
similar fashion, as was customary among species on The Big Zero, was something I
suspected I would never really get used to. Still it was better than in a hip-pocket, that was
even more distracting.

As it was humans occupied a middle tier in the hierarchy of sizes on the space station,
surrounded by a multitude of species both larger and smaller. Oddly enough, and for
reasons never figured out despite what people would confidently tell you, the size
differences among species seemed to increase by factors of ten. Jarlish, for instance, was ten
times smaller than a human, and his own travelling companion was yet another ten times
smaller than him.

I tried not to think about it.

If I really wanted to annoy him I called him Scrat, he didn’t know where it was from but he
fully understood my intent. Actually that was now a general nickname for his species which
had caught on much to their irritation.

Jill, my Lupine supervisor, had been my transport for the majority of this journey, but the
increasingly narrow and small tunnels and access ways had forced her to stay behind.
Despite her absence, she maintained communication through the device strapped over my
right breast pocket. Jill was a wolf, both endearing and formidable, standing at 54 feet tall.
This was somewhat modest for her species, yet she was still a towering ten times my height.

With cautious movements, I manoeuvred through the access panel into the room beyond,
instantly feeling the disorienting rush of blood to my head as gravity flipped. My short
hairstyle, currently popular among Earth expatriates, both women and men, thankfully
spared me further discomfort.

Surveying the area, it was clear my hat had vanished into the vastness of the space. Around
me lay a largely barren expanse, reminiscent of a war-torn field, stretching as far as I could
see. The metal floor bore evidence of what seemed like conflict, with its grass mostly
uprooted and a series of overlapping impact craters marking its surface. The exact nature of
the events that transpired here was unclear, but it most likely was nothing good.

On our way in, a pattern of intermittent, yet regular, rumbling thunder had grown
increasingly intense, reaching a crescendo where the ground itself seemed to tremble
beneath my feet. Strangely, there was no visible source for this ominous symphony, a fact
that should have been unsettling in itself.

It was then that I spotted, about half a kilometer away, a semi-submerged structure
resembling a truncated pyramid. This was our target, standing solitary in the desolate
landscape. It was the only man-made – or rather, something-made – construction in the
vicinity, an enigmatic beacon amidst the desolation.

Jill's Lupine features, rendered in pale and flickering blue, suddenly materialised in the air
before me. Her holographic image registered concern.

‚Are you alright ‘hon?’

The Howlitzer, one of humanities little private nicknames given for her species, looked
genuinely worried, she could see pretty much what I could.

I quickly reassured her, offering a brief summary of the current situation. Like most Lupines,
Jill was a consummate team player. This trait resonated well with humans, as both species
shared a natural inclination towards hierarchical social structures, enabling them to integrate
seamlessly into each other's group networks.

This harmonious relationship, however, often drew collective disapproval from the Lassies,
another canine-like species looking like nothing so much as border-collies. If there was any
inter-species tension, it mostly stemmed from their eagerness to be regarded as your very
best friend.

Oddly enough while humanity got on well with every other species we had a particularly
close relationship with the Rolands, a rat-like people, as we both liked sports and had a
similar sense of humour, they didn’t take themselves too seriously. I wasn’t sure where they
received their name from, someone suggested a late twentieth century children’s TV show
but I’d never seen it.

Anyway, I told Jill I was going out to take a look and she frowned, but I reassured her, after
all we hadn’t come this far only to retreat at the last hurdle. Besides, apart from the
disorienting reversed gravity, there seemed to be no immediate threat.

I really should have known better. And perhaps given Jarlish and his passenger a say in the
matter.

Activating the magnetic clamps on my boots, I began the ascent out of the access hatch.
Luckily I was young and supple, allowing me to navigate the awkward angles and shifts in
gravity with relative ease.

Young, supple, and dumb as a brick.

As I traversed the vast, flat expanse, my steps were accompanied by the gratifying clunk of
my magnetically-clamped boots against the metal surface. Lifting my feet required a bit of
effort, but the tactile sensation was oddly satisfying. Scattered patches and strips of green
grass and tree-like structures provided occasional breaks in the monotony of the landscape.

I very carefully avoided looking upwards. Estimating the size of the room was challenging,
but considering the colossal scale of the space station, it could easily encompass several
cubic kilometers. The thought crossed my mind that the ceiling, or at times the floor, might
be as high as fifty miles above me. I found myself idly wondering if my hat had made it that
far yet.

Thankfully my clothing and equipment were designed for such antics; my coveralls were
made from a flexible, durable material and at present hung oddly on my body but all my
equipment was secure. Despite the blood rushing to my head I tried to convince myself that
everything was perfectly normal and I was walking across a floor and definitely not a ceiling.

Despite the powerful magnetic clamps on my boots, which were probably strong enough to
traverse the grassy patches and soil, I chose to avoid them. Having a foot slip here was
potentially a very bad idea.

I got into a rhythm and the pyramid slowly enlarged as I approached. Then a felt an odd
sensation, there was no longer a pull from above but neither was there one from below,
taking a pen from a pocket I released it in front of me where it floated with ease.

Zero-G, neat.

Tempted as I was to partially cancel the magnetic clamps and go bouncing across the floor
like an Apollo astronaut common sense thankfully prevailed. The aliens thought the Apollo
missions were cute of course, baby’s first steps. Though they did admire the courage it took
to strap yourself on top of those directional boosters, most of them hadn’t had the necessity
to do that for millennia.

Instead I set off across the battered landscape then after a time as I took another step went
to my hands and knees with a thump. The gravity had come on again but unexpectedly
reversed, back to what passed for normal.

Huh…
Carefully, I got to my feet and dusted myself off. The gravity, though similar to Earth's, felt
slightly heavier. Despite my inexperience, I wasn't reckless enough to disengage the
magnetic clamps on my boots just yet. With a bit more effort, I resumed my trek.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a small yellow object gradually descending – my hat
was making its return journey. Idly I wondered how close it would land to the access hatch.

As the surroundings began to dim, curiosity overcame my earlier resolve, and I risked a
glance upwards. What I saw nearly made my heart stop, never mind my trousers damp.

Everything that had been previously launched skyward by the reversed gravity was now
plummeting back down. What goes up must come down after all. And right now, everything
in the room was obeying that iron law, hurtling back towards the ground with rapidly
increasing velocity.

In a split-second decision, I hastily disengaged the magnetic clamps and sprinted for my life
towards the distant facility, still several hundred meters away. As I ran, objects began to
impact around me with the force of an artillery barrage, the ground shook beneath my feet,
throwing me off balance.

The source of the earlier thunderous rumbling was now abundantly clear.

My lungs burned and I gasped sharply with fear, there was no point dodging or weaving and
I daren’t look up, instead I forced myself forward as if my very life depended on it

Which it did.

Just a bit further, escape was within reach. But then, without warning, my feet slipped from
beneath me, and I found myself sliding sideways. Initially, I thought I had hit a slick patch,
but the truth was far more disorienting. The ground had turned into a vertical wall as gravity
abruptly shifted to a right angle.

Desperately flailing for something to grasp, I managed to clutch at the broken roots of a
tree-analogue, hanging on with all my might as debris flew past in a terrifying torrent.
Vertigo slammed into me with overwhelming intensity; every instinct screamed that I was
now perched on the edge of a vertical cliff. Against my better judgment, I glanced downward
and immediately regretted it, my stomach lurching at the sight of what seemed like an
endless abyss beneath.

I’m fairly sure Jarlish was not too happy either.

Jill's voice crackled through the communicator, her frantic inquiries about my status filling
my ears. But I was too preoccupied to offer a coherent response. The sensation of hanging
over an infinite void was utterly petrifying, I had never been afraid of heights but I was
quickly reassessing my opinion.
"Just hold on, Honey!" Jill's voice echoed in my ears, her concern palpable even through the
static.

I was too distracted to respond appropriately to this.

As I clung to the tree-analogue roots, my muscles strained and my mind raced with panic.
Suddenly, the relentless pull eased, and a familiar sensation returned – gravity had shifted
back to its regular orientation. I slammed against the stump and then wasting no time, I
released my precarious hold and dropped to the now-horizontal ground. My feet hit the
surface with a jolt, but I didn't allow myself a moment to recover. I sprang into a determined
sprint towards the facility, every step fuelled by adrenaline.

The facility loomed closer with each stride, its semi-submerged structure appearing as a
sanctuary amidst the chaos. Just as I crossed the threshold of the gently sloping metal ramp
leading into the below-surface interior I felt the gravity shift again, this time with a localised
1 g pull directing into the facility. Caught off-guard, I stumbled on the suddenly inclined
ramp, losing my balance completely.

I tumbled down the ramp in a dramatic, yet thankfully harmless, slide. Arms flailing, I tried to
control my descent but to no avail. My momentum carried me across the floor of the facility,
sliding on the smooth surface until I finally came to a stop.

For a moment, I lay there, catching my breath and allowing the shock to ebb away. Slowly, I
got to my feet, relieved to feel the familiar, steady pull of gravity underfoot, now back to its
normal state. I stood up, brushing myself down, my heart still pounding from the ordeal.
Despite the rough entry, I had made it to the facility, a small victory in the grand scheme of
things.

I calmed myself before responding to Jill with more presence of mind than I actually felt.
Well we were here now, time to actually fix things.

I really didn’t want to have to make the same return journey.

Jarlish emerged, promptly unleashing a torrent of what I could only assume were rather
colourful alien expletives, albeit in an undeniably adorable manner. Despite the cuteness,
there was no mistaking the tone – he was clearly not pleased. With his tirade concluded, he
set off to conduct his explorations, his small form moving with determination.

Well he seemed uninjured at least; I supposed he did have a sort of cushion after all.

Anyway he was welcome to it, besides after the foyer the tunnels had quickly narrowed, they
seemed to be designed for people of Jarlish size and not my own.

Meanwhile, I leaned against the wall, feeling the toll of the recent dramas. Battered and
bruised, yet thankfully not seriously injured, I took a moment to gather myself. The
adrenaline was starting to wear off, leaving behind a stark reminder of the physical demands
of the situation.

Jill's holographic image remained visible, her lupine features flickering slightly on the
communicator screen. It seemed, however, that her attention was partially elsewhere. Despite
her divided concentration, I sensed her concern and vigilance. Her presence, even in this
digital form, was a reassuring reminder that I wasn't alone in this vast, unpredictable
environment.

Trying to make my mind of things I asked her about something I had wondered ever since
Contact had been made, surely everyone didn’t play nice with others? There must be the
classical aggressive and dominating species out there, what happened if someone decided
they would like to build a little Empire?

The Lupine seemed uncomfortable; this was obviously not a topic she liked to discuss.
Eventually she responded.

‚They don’t get invited to the best parties.‛

I almost burst out laughing, ‚That’s it?‛

She seemed genuinely confused, ‚You want something else?‛

Upon reflection, however, I realised the deeper implications of her words. In a society as
friendly and sociable as the galactic community, social isolation could indeed be a powerful
tool for control or marginalisation. It made me think about humanity's own history. Before
our integration into this interstellar community, how did we manage? I lived through that era
of human history, and now I wondered if our tendency towards conflict and war was partly
due to our isolation from a broader community of civilizations.

Perhaps we had just needed friends.

The notion that said friends had convinced humanity to decommission most of our nuclear
weapons was still a bit surreal to me. And not just take them apart but to use them up in the
best fireworks display ever.

I still had my celebratory sunglasses somewhere.

The best bit though was the interstellar camaraderie; everyone invited at least one alien
friend around to watch. Talk about group bonding.

That brought back something I didn’t really want to consider in my current situation though,
another time Jill had showed us the burned, blackened, and partially melted remains of part
of The Big Zero where she had personally helped break out the thermonukes to contain an
Incursion.
This wasn’t an Incursion.

Was it?

Caught by surprise, I stood up swiftly as Jarlish's frantic energy filled my earpiece. His
excitement was not of the joyful variety, but one laced with terror. Within moments, he
emerged from the access tunnel on all fours and at breakneck speed, pursued by
something... or rather, somethings.

Before I could fully register what was happening, Jarlish scurried up my body and dove into
my pocket, his tail the only visible part of him.

In front of me a black writhing mass poured out of the access tunnel and onto the floor.

I fumbled for my powerful hand-held torch and swept it over them; with high-pitched
squeaks and hisses they pulled back and held off at the edge of the beam. Apparently they
did not like light.

Calming a little I observed them more closely, they seemed like short and stumpy millipedes
though with manipulating arms which were now spread in front of them.

It seemed more a territorial rather than threat display, at least there was no indication that
they intended to swarm me or anything like that.

‚Jill, what are these guys? Are they intelligent?‛

Her face, filled with uncertainty, appeared in the air. She attempted to communicate with the
creatures in various common languages, but to no avail. Despite this, it was clear we had
discovered the source of the problem, and the solution, for the time being, was simple
enough – light.

--------------------------------

With a makeshift lighting system in place and necessary repairs done, the facility hummed
steadily and reassuringly. The insect-like aliens lingered, appearing more surly at our
presence and actions than threatening.

Anyway, they were welcome to it, I was glad to leave.

Walking across the now stable ground towards the entrance hatch, a thought struck me. Jill's
face, relieved and satisfied with our safe and successful resolution filled the screen. Curiosity
piqued, I decided to probe a bit.

"Something I meant to ask, what do Lupines call humans?"

She hesitated, a clear sign she was stalling, ‚Ummm, it doesn’t translate exactly…‛
I raised my eyebrows, indicating she should continue.

‚Well, many of us refer to you as Fuzzies or Bare Bears,"

‚The first one is ironic, right?‛

‚I guess…‛

With the set of her ears I knew what was coming next, ‚Why, what do humans call us?‛

Now it was my turn to stall.

Glancing around I noticed something yellow lying fairly close by.

‚Oh excellent, there’s my hat!‛

As I made towards it, Jill frowned, not for the first time that day…

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