Whistleblower

I wrote this from the first-person perspective of a to-be whistleblower who is killed by a government agent to ensure his silence.

I wrote this from the perspective of a past-life memory, or from a first-person perspective of an Akashic Record memory. 

As I stepped into the simulator that night, I had no idea that I wouldn’t be leaving it alive.  Maybe I should have signed the non-disclosure agreement that the agents in black placed in front of me.  Instead, I threatened to go public with my testimony about my fellow Apollo astronauts who went missing on the moon.  NASA knew about the hostile aliens living under the lunar surface, but they secretly sent Apollo 18 to the moon as bait.  Now they were dead, and I soon would be too…

Shortly after I refused to sign the NDA, I was scheduled for a training session in the LEM simulator, which was nothing too unusual because I would be piloting it down to the lunar surface during Apollo 20.  It was a full-dress training session, so I was suited and booted in my bulky white Apollo A7L spacesuit when I entered the simulator.  This also made sense because I would be operating the lunar lander while wearing my spacesuit. The Apollo suits were comfortable but cumbersome; this made fine motor skills, like piloting a spacecraft, a bit clumsy so we had to train in them.  Oblivious to the danger that I was now in, I entered the simulator and shut the hatch behind me.

Other than a few lights on the instrument panels reflecting off of my gleaming-white suit, it was pitch black inside the simulator.  I connected the long umbilical hose to the front of my suit and began to hear oxygen hiss through the line.  The oxygen, which was supplied from the simulator just as it would be in the real lunar lander, felt cool inside of my bubble-shaped space helmet.  For some reason I experienced a feeling of vulnerability and doom wash over me as I began to power up the simulator.  Initially, I didn’t understand the mysterious feelings because I was inside of a simulator, which was inside of a hanger on a secure NASA facility.  I should have felt safe, but I didn’t.  Soon I would understand why.

I was supposed to be the only one in the simulator, so I was instantly startled when I felt someone firmly tap me on the shoulder.  The tap felt demanding and strong, even through my puffy suit.  My heart raced as I turned around to discover a muscular woman in black standing before me.  It was one of the agents that threatened me!  She was tall and domineering, formidable and intimidating.  Her black boots were now toe to toe with my white space boots as I stood there trembling.  I have no idea how long she had been waiting inside of that simulator for me to arrive, but I knew what she was there for.

“You should have signed that NDA, pretty boy” she said, completely stoic.  I gasped in fear, unable to speak.  I was completely defenseless and I knew she was going to kill me.  Before I could scream for help, she violently thrust her fist into my stomach.  The soft, white fabric wrinkled around her hand as she delivered the devastating blow, which was instantly agonizing.  The pain was so intense that I became weak in the knees and collapsed to the gray-metal floor of the simulator.  I landed on my side in the fetal position, but she kicked me like a soccer ball and I landed on my back.

Tears streamed down my face inside of my helmet as she stood over me, watching me writhe in pain.  She had a sadistic grin on her face as if she was enjoying herself.  “I never had an astronaut as my prey before” she coldly stated as she kneeled down on top of me, “This is kind of fun.”  The stout female agent was wearing something that looked like a black wetsuit, and I could see her muscular physique through the tight material.  Her muscles looked powerful and it was obvious that she was much stronger than me.  I was never in the military or anything so I can only presume that her special attire was for tactical purposes.

“Please don’t kill me” I begged, in between painful gasps for air.  She laughed boisterously at my desperate request.  The pitch of her laugh resonated inside of my space helmet, filling my heart with even more terror.  Then my final moments came.

Without further hesitation or mercy, the female agent began to bludgeon me to death with her fists.  At first the pain was excruciating.  I could feel my ribs snapping like twigs under her fists.  Her powerful muscular arms flexed and contracted as she delivered her deadly strikes to my body.  My vision became obscured as blood spewed out of my mouth and splattered all over the visor glass of my helmet.  Soon I felt and heard nothing.  My body went numb and limp as I felt a warm sensation travel across my body.  Like a warm blanket being pulled over me, it started at my toes, then traveled up my legs and covered the rest of me.  The last thing I felt was the abrupt tug of the air hose as the ruthless woman ripped it off of my spacesuit, then everything went black.

My name was Dustin.  I was an Apollo astronaut who was betrayed by my own government for trying to do the right thing.  I was a to-be whistleblower whose voice was silenced. 

Reviews

[Clif]

Exceptional story! It was a woman in black instead of a Men in Black. You must have a restless spirit that came to a violent end, in its previous existence as a member of NASA.

[DustinA7L]

Thanks Cliff. I was concerned it was too violent/brutal, but all of those disturbing details manifested themselves as I began to type. Yea- I remember a woman clad in black for some reason. I've seen her in a few of my memories; she was very tall and muscular. I call her "Agent X" because her identity is a mystery, although I know she was a psychopathic killer that worked for the government. I hope I can put all of this to rest, at least for now. I believe this is what happed to Astronaut Dustin, unfortunately.

Thanks again for reading/commenting!

[JayG]

So the dead person wrote the story. Seriously? How, with a ghostwriter?

You NEED to learn the skills of fiction, because nothing-else-works. You'd not expect to sit down and write a screenplay that looks and reads like a real screenplay without learning that profession's skills. That goes for journalism, and tech-writing. Why would you assume that, with nothing but the fact-based and nonfiction skills of school, you'd be able to write fiction that works? Since you began to read, you've selected only fiction that was created with those skills. And you'd reject what wasn't in a page, perhaps a paragraph. Yet you think that possessing no more than nonfiction writing skills you can magically create fiction that works?

You may be amazingly talented at writing fiction. But talent means you learn skills quickly, and use them well. It's NOT a magical ability that does the work for you. So until you give that talent the tools to work with, you're trying to write fiction with tools expressly designed to write nonfiction—to inform, when your reader expects you to make them feel as if the story is happening to them as-they-read. They want it to seem so real that if your protagonist bangs an elbow the reader says, "Ouch!"

So...grab a copy of Debra Dixon's, GMC: Goal Motivation & Conflict and make her skills your skills. Make use of MRU's, Scene and Sequel, short-term acene-goals, and all the other things the pros use. Knowledge is an excellent working substitute for genius.

https://dokumen.pub/qdownload/gmc-goal-motivation-and-conflict-9781611943184.html

[DustinA7L]

Jay, thank you for your questions and review, I appreciate it.

No, a ghost did not write this story LOL. I wrote it from the perspective of someone who is experiencing a memory from the Akashic Record, or perhaps a past-life memory such as the one's I've experienced on this subject. If you read my non-fiction essay "Who Was I ?" or "Nightmares From Space?" this story will make a bit more sense. I actually didn't intend to publish this story; I wrote it as a creative thought experiment to explore some of my past-life experiences. When I wrote it, the details flowed out of me without thinking about it. That was the only intention behind this story, but I wanted to share it just for entertainment sake.

Thanks for the info on writing. However, I don't aim to become a serious or professional writer. My next project is to turn some of my stories into a short film to see where that goes. But I appreciate the advice.

Take care.