The fall ripped a gash down the back of his spacesuit, allowing noxious subterranean gas to seep in and corrode his body.
“Replay vows.mp3.”
“Again?” His onboard system asked. “Resources are limited—”
“This is all I need.”
He closed his eyes to the terror below, listening to his wife’s wedding vows miles below the surface.
Your voice breathes life into my lungs.
“Remaining battery capacity under fifteen percent. Oxygen levels—”
“Enough,” he gasped. “Her voice is enough.”
His eyes burned both from tears and fumes.
It was always enough. Why did it take me so long to believe it?
Michael Bettendorf (he/him) is a speculative writer from Nebraska. He works in a high school library where students are tired of him trying to get them to check out Neuromancer. You can find him on Twitter @ BeardedBetts and www.michaelbettendorfwrites.com.
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