The Gluon Amplifier

The fog ate the white sanded beach, a giant amoeba, undulating over the water and sand. The setting sun shone dimly through the its swirling mists and provided no warmth to offset the chill wind that blew across the sand. Huddled under his hood, Greg Pattersen jammed his balled fists deep into his jacket's pockets as if that would make him warmer, as if that would make his life whole again. He had Parkinson's Disease, the only known case in the twenty-third century. What an honor! And all they did for him was give him a neural-implant to ameliorate his symptoms with deep brain stimulation.

The beach he walked, lay on the little used, reconstructed coast of post-earthquake southern California. He thought he was alone but against the thick gray of the fog, eddies of color suddenly coalesced into the face of a young woman with long hair the color of ravens and brilliant green eyes. But what drew his attention was her mouth. She was speaking to him, but he could hear nothing.

Her face was drawn tight with stress, tears of desperation falling freely from her eyes. She was begging him for help. He could see the words formed by those perfect lips, “Help me. Please.” Her face and her pleas cut through the miasma of his despair and filled him with desire. A desire, beyond his loins, a desire to help her. It felt good to want something again. He pointed to his ear and shook his head, mouthing, “I can't hear you.”

Surprise crossed her face, but she smiled through her tears and bent down out of his view for a moment. Then she raised a hand written sign.

[Go to the military surplus and buy a used spacesuit
with full oxygen tanks and attach as many electronic
gadgets as possible. Your life depends on it. Please
listen to me! Come back here tomorrow at midday
and WEAR THE SUIT!]

Buying the spacesuit had been the easy part. Now that the Mars and Ganymede colonies were booming, and the transport ships were all equipped with short range transporters, thousands of spacesuits had become instant surplus. Walking on the beach in a spacesuit was the difficult part. He was glad the air conditioning system worked now that it was midday and he was standing on the beach staring at the horizon through a space suit visor. Why? Because the floating image of a beautiful young woman in a cold fog had told him to.

Without warning, the woman’s face appeared against the inside of the helmet's darkened visor. She smiled and held up a short hand written sign.

[Now I must ask you to do something
very hard. Look out at the horizon.
But don't be afraid. You will live.
When it comes - let it take you!]

As suddenly as she had appeared, she was gone, leaving him staring at the horizon with a growing anxiety.