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Cosmic Connections presents:

When music from an unknown source fills the hull and minds of the crew of the I.S.S. Sanchez, it’s 3 person crew reacts with wonder and horror as it haunts them relentlessly from an unknown source somewhere in deep space….

PILOT: When deep space exploration first opened up to humanity, Hyper sleep wasn’t quite developed. You’d have a crew of 20 young men, boys really, go out into the void. By the time they would return, even when using a jump drive, you’d have two old men who could barely recall what had happened to them. That’s when the company designed the Hyper sleep protocol. I’ve heard rumors that the computer doesn’t even begin to tell you it has begun to infuse the ship with the anesthetic, but only informs you when it guesses your body will begin to react. The first spacers to experience it were left psychologically broken by the sudden blast of potent drugs that were blasted into the air with no warning, no smell, no druggie effects before it washes over you, kicking you to sleep.

Later generations have enjoyed such things like automated warnings, albeit maybe a couple minutes to late, and faint smells that somehow, everyone interpreted differently. I smelled rose oil in the air, and it reminded me of my mother for what seemed to be a long moment. I fought against the world falling away from me, tried to pry my eyes open when they would flutter for a moment too long, until they were locked shut against my will. I was back in the car passing the expanse of trees edging on meadow farmland. I was 12 years old, flying down the road sitting on a bench seat at my dad smoked with one hand and held the thin black steering wheel with another as we charged through washes of leaves across the asphalt. My dad turned his attention from the road, and in the specious logic of dreams I was now a man, wearing my issued fatigues and a full beard.

“Did you find what you were looking for, son?”
“I did, dad.”
“How was it.”
“Savage and beautiful.”
“There will be a lot of happy people. You did a great thing, you know.”

“I suppose so.”

We continued down the road, but never seeming to get any closer to home. I watched him continue to smoke his cigarette, the smell of the burning tobacco was that of mom’s rose oil. I found myself fished out of the dream, upwards and away, looking down on the asphalt snake of narrow country road, pulled up and away as fields fell away from me under my feet, and awoke in a medical bay. Instead of my dad, there was now a woman wearing a white coat looking down at a tablet pad that her fingers tapped impatiently at. She looked over the rim of it, then turned her attention back down and continued to tap.

“Good morning.” She said.

This week well be listening to OOIOO, Clap! Clap!, Linda Perhaps, Teebs, Siouxsie & The Banshees, Autechre and lots more!

Cosmic Connections is an anthology of music and stories. It is produced and directed by David Ace, and the stories are written by Charlie Wells.

David Ace, The Smiling Wizard’s playlist: