Solar Wind

The cold had never felt so close against the backdrop of the solar wind.

As a child, he had loved reading encyclopedias about distant civilizations lost in the past, about dinosaurs, about pyramids — but none of it had captivated him as much as the stories of faraway galaxies and the boundless universe.

"And is this where my curiosity has led me?" he asked himself, drifting amidst clouds of space debris.

He had dreamed of becoming an astronaut since childhood, but instead, he became just a cleaner. Though a uniformed one — such tasks weren’t entrusted to just anyone. It quickly became clear that space wasn’t just about exploring unknown planets and galaxies but also involved a lot of grunt work. Specifically, collecting and recycling space junk, disposal, smelting, and ensuring satellites could continue orbiting without interference.

For the larger debris that couldn’t be captured and processed, they tried to shoot it into a distant orbit, where it wouldn’t obstruct the paths of satellites or the regular spacecraft shuttling between Earth and Mars.

Days passed, then months, then years. Three years had already gone by since he began serving on Near-Earth Orbital Cleaning Station No. 34. He had risen to squad leader, earned the rank of major. There had been no wars to fight for a long time, so the military’s primary task had become eliminating hazards in Near-Earth orbit. He had already completed a couple dozen spacewalks (seven of them in critical situations threatening the station and crew), but never before had he seen the solar wind this close.

As a child, he had imagined the solar wind as something like a desert storm — a scorching, searing wind that lashed the skin with grains of sand. Now, inside his spacesuit, he felt no heat, only the impacts of dust accelerated to cosmic speeds.

A bolt — a piece of an old satellite — whizzed past him, and he was relieved it had missed. At that velocity, it would have taken his head clean off, and no spacesuit could have saved him. Had it hit the station, it would have meant at least a full day of emergency repairs, if not more. Thankfully, the crew from Station 33 had calculated the debris trajectory correctly…

The next flying bolt severed his tether and cut his thoughts short.

"This is it," he thought. He felt ashamed that he didn’t panic. Instinctively, he sealed his suit before the pressure could crush him, and only then did the cold hit. It felt eternal — until it ended.

—Major Tom?  - hissed the radio from the station.
—I…

Millions of sparks flew toward him, and suddenly, he was a child again, standing on a balcony, watching fireworks shoot into the sky. He had always wondered: How high do they go? What’s it like to be up there among them? What’s it like to be right in the middle of a burst of sparks?

He was losing air. A roar filled his ears, and the roar blinded him, warping his vision as thousands of particles pierced through. The roar was bright, far brighter than a sunrise as seen from Earth, and though it was dangerous, the major no longer worried. Nowhere else could one witness such a radiant roar — he was certain of that. And nothing was more beautiful than the Sun itself, speaking to him now directly through its wind.

A hand grabbed his arm.

It was the rescue team — the last thing he saw and felt.

Unconscious, he was hauled back into the station.

—Major Tom!  - they leaned over him.

—This is Major Tom to Ground Control — he winced in pain but mustered the strength to lift himself slightly. — I just encountered something beautiful.

He smiled weakly.

—And what was it? - they asked anxiously.

—The solar wind.