Status Updates From The Labyrinth

Some things can never be fixed and the question he should have asked himself before entering the room with Charlie is: can we ever be forgiven for the crimes of which we are guilty?

We did what was demanded of us. But however well we understood the utility of what we did, our souls were damaged. It is therefore vital to be able to protect one's soul and for that, strength is needed. I am stronger than Matt, you see, I always have been. I have been able to keep the pain away, prevent it from destroying vital organs.

In order to save humanity, we were forced to be inhumane for a limited period of time. Close down half of ourselves.

In a ditch,there was a part of a lower body, belonging to a young woman. White thighs gleamed in the dead grass, the skin peeled back like a soft husk where the body had been pierced by the bullets of the military police. I remember it was there and then I realized that my instinct to avert my gaze had disappeared. It was what it was. And it was over. The suffering was over. The only feeling in me was that of relief.

Some may pretend not to know or that they have forgotten. Just like me and Matt. But we all knew what was in those sacks. We know very well that it is thanks to their contents that we can live our comfortable lives down here in Kungshall.

Charlie's computer was on and there was something on the screen, so I stepped closer to read what it said.
It was self-evident. His introversion, the outbursts, the fights at school - none of it had anything to do with hormones. This was not a case of adolescent troubles. And the pillow cases, dear God. Matt had been right the whole time. Charlie knew.

These stations remind me of passenger planes. The similarities are striking now that I think back on it. In the airplane, everything was constructed in order to distract passengers from the fact that they were sitting a couple of centimeters from an environment entirely lethal to the human body. That's why airplanes were full of comforting objects from life on the ground. Lifestyle magazines, food and alcohol.

Because you don't kill the ants one by one. All you have to do is infect a couple of them who then bring the poison to the rest of the colony. You let the ants exterminate themselves. It takes a while. You have to be patient. But one day, they are all dead or dying, small black crumbs on the floor of the house. The ants themselves will never understand what happened.

"I think he is starting to remember. The pillow case, Sigrid. Isn't it obvious?"

I wasn't standing very far away. The thrushes scattered at the shots. Bodies were ripped apart, one after the other. Disintegrated. The lower half of a body was thrown violently through the air. The feet lacked shoes, one foot had lost its sock. In the silence afterwards, I met Matt's gaze. Dear God, why hadn't he closed his eyes? Instead, he walked around with that sock for hours afterward. Tried to find its foot.

"What do you thin the pillow case thing was all about?"
"Nothing," I answered. But Matt wasn't satisfied. So this was what he had been thinking about.
"Do you think he was trying to say something? Is he angry at us, do you think?" he went on.
"I don't know, Matt. He's a teenager now. You're angry at everyone at that age."

Suddenly Charlie stood in the doorway. He had something over his head. The kitchen was fairly dark and at first I thought he had his hood pulled up but then I saw from the pattern of the fabric that it was one of the station's pillow cases he had pulled over his head. Both Matt and I stared at each other. This didn't even happen when he was younger and extroverted.

He became like this about a year ago, shortly after he turned thirteen. Went quiet, if you will. And he had always been so chatty. At the same time the problems started at school. The fights.
In my defense, I wasn't the only one who interpreted this as normal adolescent development. Even the psychologist thought that his behavior would improve in his later teens, once his hormones had stabilized.

Matt was persistent and explained to Charlie that if you went up above the clouds and out into space, the sunlight would be strong enough to grill you like a chorizo if you didn't have a protective suit on.

You have to keep in mind that we have done this for seven years now. These expeditions are routine. You go to one of the stations up there: Vandelsberg, Anas, Bergudden. Or Granhammar. You live there for a few weeks, go on excursions, obtain samples, measure the temperature and air pressure, take pictures, service the measuring equipment.

The black globes appeared to follow rules and regularities that transcended those of nature or chance. Occasionally, they were seen moving in formation, patiently gliding through the landscape from one place to another.
As if they were following a plan of action.

While this is, I think, Stålenhag's second most recent... I know it's one of the more straightforward narratives, and I don't know if I'm in the headspace for too much complexity now, while I digest Project Hail Mary, so I'm starting my re-reads (Electric State and this) and first-time reads (Tales From the Loop, Things From the Flood, Sunset at Zero Point) here!

Great art. The plot took an unexpected direction.