Solaris

8 THE MONSTERS

I woke up in the middle of the night to find the light on and Rheya crouched at the end of the bed, wrapped in a sheet, her shoulders shaking with silent tears. I called her name and asked her what was wrong, but she only curled up tighter.

Still half asleep, and barely emerged from the nightmare which had been tormenting me only a moment before, I pulled myself up to a sitting position and shielded my eyes against the glare to look at her. The trembling continued, and I stretched out my arms, but Rheya pushed me away and hid her face.

“Rheya…”

“Don’t talk to me!”

“Rheya, what’s the matter?”

I caught a glimpse of her tear-stained face, contorted with emotion. The big childish tears streamed down her face, glistened in the dimple above her chin and fell onto the sheets.

“You don’t want me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I heard…”

My jaw tightened: “Heard what? You don’t understand.”

“Yes I do. You said I wasn’t Rheya. You wanted me to go, and I would, I really would… but I can’t. I don’t know why. I’ve tried to go, but I couldn’t do it. I’m such a coward.”

“Come on now….” I put my arms round her and held her with all my strength. Nothing mattered to me except her: everything else was meaningless. I kissed her hands, talked, begged, excused myself and made promise after promise, saying that she had been having some silly, terrible dream. Gradually she grew calmer, and at last she stopped crying and her eyes glazed, like a woman walking in her sleep. She turned her face away from me.

“No,” she said at last, “be quiet, don’t talk like that. It’s no good, you’re not the same person any more.” I started to protest, but she went on: “No, you don’t want me. I knew it before, but I pretended not to notice. I thought perhaps I was imagining everything, but it was true… you’ve changed. You’re not being honest with me. You talk about dreams, but it was you who were dreaming, and it was to do with me. You spoke my name as if it repelled you. Why? Just tell me why.”

“Rheya, my little….”

“I won’t have you talking to me like that, do you hear? I won’t let you. I’m not your little anything, I’m not a child. I’m….”

She burst into tears and buried her face in the pillow. I got up. The ventilation hummed quietly. It was cold, and I pulled a dressing-gown over my shoulders before sitting next to her and taking her arm: “Listen to me, I’m going to tell you something. I’m going to tell you the truth.”

She pushed herself upright again. I could see the veins throbbing beneath the delicate skin of her neck. My jaw tightened once more. The air seemed to be colder still, and my head was completely empty.

“The truth?” she said. “Word of honor?” I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came. ‘Word of honor’… it was our special catch-phrase, our old way of making an unconditional promise. Once these words had been spoken, neither of us was permitted to lie, or even to take refuge behind a half-truth. I remembered the period when we used to torture each other in an exaggerated striving for sincerity, convinced that this ingenuous honesty was the precondition of our relationship.

“Word of honor, Rheya,” I answered gravely, and she waited for me to continue. “You have changed too — we all change. But that is not what I wanted to say. For some reason that neither of us understands, it seems that… you are forced to stay near me. And that’s fine with me, because I can’t leave you either…”

“No, Kris. The change is not in you,” Rheya whispered. “It’s me. Something is wrong. Perhaps it has to do with the accident?”

She looked at the dark, empty rectangle of the door. The previous evening, I had removed the shattered remains — a new one would have to be fitted. Another thought struck me:

“Have you been managing to sleep?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have dreams… I don’t know whether they really are dreams. Perhaps I’m ill. I lie there and think, and…”

“What?”

“I have strange thoughts. I don’t know where they come from.”

It took all my self-control to steady my voice and tell her to go on, and I found myself tensing for her answer as if for a blow in the face.

“They are thoughts…” She shook her head helplessly. “… all around me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I get a feeling as if they were not from inside myself, but somewhere further away. I can’t explain it, can’t put words to it…”

I broke in almost involuntarily: “It must be some kind of dream.” Then, back in control again: “And now, we put the light out and we forget our problems until morning. Tomorrow we can invent some new ones if you like. OK?”

She pressed the switch, and darkness fell between us. Stretched out on the bed, I felt her warm breathing beside me, and put my arms round her.

“Harder!” she whispered, and then, after a long pause:

“Kris!”

“What?”

“I love you.”

I almost screamed.

In the red morning, the sun’s swollen disc was rising over the horizon.

An envelope lay in the doorway, and I tore it open. I could hear Rheya humming to herself in the bath, and from time to time she looked into the room and I would see her face, half hidden by her wet hair.

I went to the window, and read:

“Kelvin, things are looking up. Sartorius has decided that it may be possible to use some form of energy to destabilize the neutrino structure. He wants to examine some Phi plasma in orbit. He suggests that you make a reconnaissance flight and take a certain quantity of plasma in the capsule. It’s up to you, but let me know what you decide. I have no opinion. I feel as if I no longer have anything. If I am more in favor of your going, it’s because we would at least be making some show of progress. Otherwise, we can only envy G.