At the Edge of a Universe

A view of eternity is nice, but only when you’re not distracted by an irritating, recurrent beeping noise. This is the situation that Renner found himself in; attempting to get an inarguably excellent view of space from his viewport as his oxygen was finally running out. Because of this depletion, however, the computer system was programmed to acknowledge and notify users around every four seconds that their impending death was on its way. Of course, you wouldn’t be able to turn the sound off, no. It’s a safety feature, a gentle reminder to replenish supplies when they’re running low. Even if the closest hospitable planet was a ridiculous number of lightyears away, it would still beep and beep and beep. Renner shook his head, firmly implanted fingers into ears and tried to remember the slight melancholy feeling of facing your own death. Almost there, just a touch more sadness with a hint of optimism. What comes next? How long until Renner saw it? Why did the beeping have to be so goddamn shrill? Surely the designers would think of a situation such as this and implement a switch that turned it off. Renner slammed his fist into the console with the blinking light next to him and sighed deeply. Was it bad that they were looking forwards to a time when the oxygen would become so thin that he wouldn’t hear the sound anymore? Saying that, they knew that the used oxygen was replaced by exhalation and sound would be present at all times until unconsciousness hit. Who knew that death could be this exhausting?
The stars slowly shifted in the darkness, each one blinking in turn and tracing invisible lines as Renner’s spaceship twisted again and again. It was a slow process, usually taking around ten hours or so until the craft had made a full loop and made it back to the original three stars, the slightly larger, slightly redder one was what he used as a marker for each spin. Sure, it was a thoroughly dullen form of entertainment, but at this point he would take anything. The larger, redder star had finally gone out of sight from Renner’s porthole, and so he pushed himself away, allowing the weightlessness to carry him for a few seconds before he slowly collided with the cushioned wall of the other end of his cabin. The small room he had been confined in for the past few weeks or months, whichever it had been, had become what felt like an extension of Renner’s own body; the area could easily be navigated with his eyes closed. Food and water packs to the left, waste excess removal to the right. The beeping sound continued. Renner pushed himself over to the plastic shelving unit that contained the various delectable meals specially catered for his tastes - including such highlights as Food Pack #2 and Food Pack #177. He had taken a worrying fondness in combining Food Packs #26 and #145 to make the most appetising plate of brown mush you’ve ever seen. He considered eating something now, but what would be the point? Deciding whether you want your corpse to be found with an empty stomach or not, hell, he doubted his corpse would ever be found. A small surge of rage and irritation overwhelmed him suddenly, and he found his leg lashing out, connecting to the panel underneath the food machine. It made a loud clanking sound, briefly drowning out the beeping for a beautiful second, and then disconnected itself from the wall entirely. Behind it was a small, hollow enclave, the only contents of which inside was a small can of compressed air. Jacked up to Renner’s current airflow system in his little craft, it would grant him a merciful extra day, seeing as the air renewal system had broken down, and he was relying entirely on these canisters. One day. Was it worth it? Sure, he had no way of contacting anyone, and the chances of being found this far away from anything remotely habitable was bordering on comical but what it would do is stop the beeping. Maybe only for a couple hours, but surely silence was bliss? Renner pulled the canister out of the enclave and simply stared at it for a few seconds. Would it only delay the inevitable? A death scored by the beeping sound was going to happen eventually, why push it back only a few hours? He let the canister go, allowing it to float away from him as he pushed himself back to the porthole. Implanting his fingers in his ears once more, he waited to see if he could see that red star just one more time. And the beeping continued.