The Greatest Showman #1153 - Between Life and Death

There was a muffled thumping sound in my ears, as if someone was knocking on the window of the escape hatch. But wait... they're in space. Why would anyone knock on the door? This is insane.

An Ninggang's lullaby, once humming softly in the background, faded away, dissipating into the radio waves. The dull thumping sound was like a stone thrown into water, creating ripples that spread outward. Gradually, the tide subsided. He slowly opened his eyes, and a ray of light flickered in his pupils—hazy, blurred. He turned his head and, in the distance, saw Heather Cross.

Heather? Wait, why is she here?

Floating in space, wearing a space suit and with a helmet resembling a fish tank, Heather waved her hand with a smile. Why was Heather Cross here?

Countless question marks flooded his mind, pushing against each other, crowding his thoughts to the brink of suffocation.

Suddenly, he saw Heather trying to open the hatch, and the realization struck him immediately—she wasn't wearing a helmet. If she opened the hatch now, she'd instantly enter an anaerobic state, her body would be exposed to the vacuum, and she could be killed in seconds.

"No, no!" he shouted, but before he could protest further, Heather had already opened the hatch. In a panic, he raised his hands to cover his face, like an idiot trying to shield himself from an incoming rocket—though there were no rockets in sight.

The alarm warning of the oxygen loss grew louder and more insistent, but before it could fully crescendo, the sound vanished.

In the vacuum of space, there is no medium for sound to travel.

The world fell into utter silence.

Amidst the chaos, Heather stepped into the escape pod without hesitation, closed the hatch, switched on the lights, and activated the oxygen system. Slowly, the sounds of the world began to return—first faintly, then louder, until the alarms blared once again. Heather's voice cut through the noise.

"Check your watch—thirteen hours and eleven minutes. Tell Anatoly I broke his record."

Her tone was cheerful, full of energy, and as she looked around the pod, she began to explore with the curiosity of a child. "It's a bit dark in here. What do you think?"

He snapped back to reality, though his mind still felt clouded, as if he had just resurfaced after drowning. His breath came in short, ragged gasps. His head was on fire, still thick with confusion, as if he had just awoken from a dream. He managed to stammer, "How... I mean... you..."

His pupils violently shook, unable to focus, locked onto Heather in a daze. A swirl of sadness and joy began to blend on his face, lighting up like a soft glow in the darkness.

"Trust me, it's hard to explain," Heather said with a cheerful grin.

"But... you..." His words faltered. His gaze never left her face. He was overwhelmed with confusion and joy, his mind in a storm of conflicting emotions. A mix of shock and awe surged within him, but the words remained stuck in his throat.

So rude. So embarrassed.

Heather removed her helmet, peeled off her gloves, and expertly switched on the lights, as if she had taken control of the entire pod. "This is much better," she said triumphantly. "I found a spare battery, but luckily you didn't distract me."

She turned to him, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth, "I have to say, it's nice to see you again."

He didn't respond, only shaking his head slightly, lost in the bewildering reality of the situation. His gaze remained fixed on her face, tracing every detail—the brows, the eyes, the nose, the lips, all glowing with life and playfulness. She seemed entirely reborn, free of her past troubles, as though a new light had taken over her.

It was too perfect to be true.

He knew it was an illusion. He was filming Gravity as Renly Hall, playing Ryan Stone. Heather was Rooney Mara, playing Alex Kowalski. They were shooting a hallucinatory scene where Ryan was imagining Alex in his head. This was all just a scene in a movie.

He knew this.

But everything had blurred. The connection between the scenes had vanished, and now, reality and illusion had merged into one.

But none of it mattered anymore.

He stared at Heather, the frown and smile so vividly etched in his mind, the tiny folds around her eyes and the corners of her mouth, so real, so lifelike. How had all this happened?

Was he on his way to the afterlife, meeting Heather once more? Or had Heather been reborn, and this was some cosmic reunion through the light and shadows of reincarnation?

His pupils fluttered, as if trying to find something to cling to. The words, the thoughts—everything poured into him, yet he couldn't speak. Fear held him back. He feared that even the smallest sound would shatter this illusion. He simply wanted to preserve the moment, no matter how fleeting it was.

"Have you found the vodka?" Heather's gaze settled on him, and something in her eyes flickered. A trace of sadness appeared, followed by an almost imperceptible shiver. Her voice softened, "You never told me... where it's hidden..."

She rummaged under the seat and, with a triumphant "Aha!" turned to face him again, still smiling.

His eyes, full of emotion, didn't leave her face. The sadness in her eyes reflected in his own, tears welling up on his lashes, the depth of his emotions reflecting the pain he couldn't put into words.

Time seemed to stop, and everything became clear. In that fleeting moment, they both understood each other perfectly, as if time itself had ceased to exist.

And then, with a soft chuckle, she was back to being Alex Kowalski, throwing her head back and laughing. "Houston, alcoholic. It's on again." She raised the vodka, gesturing toward him with a playful wink, "Cheers to Anatoly!"

She raised the bottle again, looking at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "What's it going to be?" she asked. "Want to go home, or stay here?"

He was silent, his throat constricting as if reality was creeping in. The illusion was slowly fading, but Heather's question still hung in the air, striking him in the chest like a dagger.

The cold grip of reality was closing in, but the moment, the feeling, the warmth of her presence—it all still lingered, like a heartbeat in the dark.