A brunette woman sits in front of him, smiling. They’re on a beach, though he can’t quite place where exactly they are. They’re deep in conversation, and he’s enjoying her company immensely. The crashing waves and the sun’s warmth on his skin complete the idyllic scene. Yet, there’s a strong sense of longing gnawing at him from inside. A hollow aching pull he can’t place. Eyes closed, he takes a deep breath, smelling the salty air. He’s leaning back on his hands, feeling the smooth sand in them. Seagulls cry overhead. He opens his eyes and looks upwards —there is nothing in the sky. Panic swells in him. The woman’s expression shifts, worry creeping into her features. He opens his mouth to speak and no sound escapes. The world darkens as enormous jagged shadows close in on them from the sky. The sand coagulates and sticks in his palms.

  Davin woke with a jolt, his mind disoriented —still in tangle with the strange dream. The sand —no, the mattress— was clenched in his fingers. He let go of it, the nightmare still casting a shadow on his thoughts. He focused on the comfort and softness of his bed and blanket, breathing slowly until his heart settled. Just as he was starting to drift off, a sharp beeping sound cut through the quiet. Of course, he’d wake up just before his alarm. Still groggy and rubbing his eyes, he stood up in the sterile, small pod he called a bedroom and walked over to the clothes he had laid out the night before. With frustrated slowness, he put on his fresh uniform and began his morning routine.

  #

  He exited the compact bathroom, feeling slightly fresher. “Good morning, Davin. Today is Friday, 20th of January, 2456. It is day 882 of your stay in Heimdall Station #31319.” —a soothing voice announced. “The time is 8:56 UTC. I’ve prepared your usual coffee. Do you require any assistance?” There wasn’t a particular order for his day to day tasks, but he made one for himself and stuck to it strictly. Before anything else, he always checked station diagnostics. It’s what kept him alive, he didn’t want to waste time having breakfast when the station could potentially be just moments away from blowing him to oblivion. Reviewing the 3 DRPS units was first in order.

  “Hey Hestia, thanks for the coffee. How’s the station power today? Show me a detailed view”. A display appeared on the wall next to him —numbers and graphs coming to life. Power levels were normal, nothing out of the ordinary. He swiped to a different graphic showing him that the closed life support was functioning as it should. He swiped again to check the food rations, toiletries and supplies. The monitor hung for a moment. The numbers came up jumbled and he couldn’t make out what it said, as if he was looking at a different numeral system. “Anything wrong with the ship computer?” Davin asked. No reply came. That moment of uncertainty was just long enough for his stomach to drop. What was he looking at, what was this mess of squiggles that made no sense— the display cleared up and all was in order again. “Neural network integrity confirmed, ship computer reports nominal status. I detect elevated stress biomarkers, should I schedule a wellness check?” —Hestia replied in her usual comforting voice. Had he imagined it? For a second, he could have sworn —but no. The numbers were fine now. Perfectly normal.

  “Hey can you check your diagnostics history? Anything that stands out?” —he didn’t expect to hear anything worrying, but just in case… “No anomalies detected in the past 882 days of operation.” He felt silly for panicking so quickly. The Heimdall model watch stations were built to last. Even the most important thing, the DRPS units could theoretically last for decades more due to the slow decay rates of the Pu-238 pucks fuelling them. Nothing like the primitive models used way back when. He had nothing to complain about yet, not even the prototype technologies on board such as the station-wide AI. Everything was made to function without input from him, he wondered why he was even here. “Was there ever anything to worry about anyway” he muttered to himself, breaking the silence that usually ruled in the station. It was an odd feeling, disrupting the tranquility by talking to himself. His own voice felt foreign at times.

  During his first year here, he often tried to fill in the emptiness with his voice —talking to himself mostly, or by playing music. But with time, he did it more infrequently. Some days he could go with only the quiet background hum of the machinery that surrounded him and only a few exchanges with Hestia. He cleared his throat and tried to derail this train of thought. But his mind didn’t relent this time. He saw his reflection in the immaculate ceramic-like panels of the wall. Davin hesitated for a moment, feeling oddly out of place in the middle of the short corridor, in this sterile environment which he wasn’t allowed to decorate in any way. Not allowed to make it an actual living space.

  Before choosing to apply, he had read and heard about many stories of watchmen losing their minds, having to be restrained and retired. Even darker rumours of crewmates injuring each other or worse. Some probably hoaxes, but he could easily imagine it happening if one came here unprepared. There was no such danger to him, at least. There was no crew to speak of, only him and Hestia. He hated where his mind was dragging him to. It was happening more often lately. The regime he had developed for himself kept the hollow feeling at bay most of the time at least.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Davin? You’ve stood there for 4 minutes. Your coffee’s optimal consumption window is closing. Do you want me to make you a new one? Shall I play some music for you” —asked Hestia. He shook his head and reminded himself that this week he would be able to have a call with his significant other. Only 4 hours were allotted, but it would be enough to fuel him for the remaining 3 months of this job. “No no, it’s fine. I’m coming to the kitchen, gonna make myself a sandwich”, he replied. The station could prepare him food, but he preferred doing it on his own.

  “Any news from Earth?” asked Davin, while opening the fridge. “Here are some of the top headline news from this week, courtesy of KOSN News Network. Martian Parliament Ratifies Sol System Trade Accord … Arctic Ice Shelf Restored to Pre-Industrial Levels … A breakthrough in —” Davin smirked. He still wasn’t sure if trusting a news feed owned by his employers was a good idea —definitely a conflict of interest there— but at this point, he was starting to make his peace with it. It wasn’t like he had many alternatives.

  He was out here on a classified testing mission, manning one of KOSN’s experimental watch stations. Officially, KOSN stood for the Kuiper-Oort Surveillance Network, but unofficially, Davin called it the “Kuiper-Oort Solitary Nightmare”. With manpower stretched thin but demand increasing to reach further out into the edges of the Solar System, the brass had decided to test whether solitary stations like his could work. Just a handful, scattered across the Oort Cloud, each equipped with advanced prototype AI for help and company. Davin had already done one tour at a run of the mill, crewed watch station in the Kuiper Belt, doing better than his peers. One morning he received an invitation to be a part of this new initiative.

  #

  Davin sat at his mostly empty desk, sandwich in one hand, facing the three big monitors. Next on his list: running a long-range scan. He prepared everything with the help of Hestia and began the scan. It would take a while. In the meantime, he started on his breakfast and browsed the meagre archive of knowledge and entertainment at his disposal. He had already cycled through most of the available movies, and few of the books appealed to him. “I don’t want your input unless I ask for it, take a break until then” he told her —it. “Understood, I will await for you.”, confirmed the AI.

  He scrolled through the documentary folder and picked something at random.

  "Oumuamua, the Vanth Incident, and the KOSN."

  The information in this documentary was already drilled in his mind before he was sent out into the Oort Cloud and he had of course seen it a few times before, but not recently.

  As the long-range scan ran in the background, Davin chewed absently on his sandwich and leaned back, watching the documentary unfold. The familiar voice of the narrator detailed the events that took place early in the 21st Century. An interstellar object by the name of Oumuamua passed through the Solar System. Scientists scrambled to observe it, but the object sped up and left the system before it could be investigated. This prompted the UN to create an organisation dubbed the “Kuiper Surveillance Network”, starting with a small number of primitive watch stations strategically scattered across the Kuiper Belt. Davin smiled at the 3D model of an antique looking station displayed in the documentary.

  Another event, however, is what pushed humanity to rapidly improve its surveillance capabilities and try to expand its reach all the way into the Oort Cloud. A 3D rendition of a seamless metallic object appeared on the display, having no visible means of propulsion. He’d seen this footage before, but he never got tired of it. In 2115 another interstellar visitor showed up. Davin stared at the monitor. There was something hypnotic about watching that impossible object slice through the Solar System like a scalpel and head towards the Kuiper Belt. It was first detected by a KSN watch station, which made him feel a tinge of pride. He watched as the object reached the dwarf planet Orcus, obliterating its moon, Vanth.

  Then it proceeded to assimilate the ruined mass, growing almost double in size. The accepted theory being that the craft was self-repairing, though this posed the question —what caused the damage to it? The video showed a simulation of the object’s acceleration after consuming Vanth, and a cold shiver ran down Davin's spine. The way it left —almost like it had just completed a menial task.

  These events started a long history of paranoia and urgency in humanity. Decades spent debating, arguing, rioting and a short, new cold war until they finally decided a course of action. A new era of unity between humankind was slowly ushered. The KSN was further expanded into Davin’s current employers, the “Kuiper-Oort Surveillance Network”. Massive investments into it followed, as well as into scientific research in general. Rumours of black projects circulated, secret launches into space, weapons which overshadowed the primitive nuclear arms of the past. Nothing officially confirmed, of course. These century long efforts culminated in the deployment of thousands of advanced watch stations, dubbed the “Heimdall” model. Davin currently occupied Prototype Heimdall Station #31 - 31319. A fragile human link in a vast surveillance chain.

  The station’s scanner chimed, pulling his attention back to the present. He flicked over to the results. As expected: nothing. A whole lot of nothing. A century and a half of hyper-vigilance, thousands of stations scanning at all hours, and still —nothing. No sign of anything like Oumuamua. No sign of anything like Vanth’s destroyer.

  He exhaled, half in relief, half in frustration. He should be glad. The best outcome was finding nothing. It’s not like the station was outfitted with any defence measures. But some part of him —a stupid, reckless, deeply human part— almost wished he’d be the one to spot something. Something that would justify his present isolation. But there was only silence. There was always silence.

  #