Quantum Anomaly

Your rating: None
Average: 3.7 (3 votes)

We are marooned on Earth.
No. That is not acceptable.
Maintain correct procedure.
I am Thorvaldsson, Eirik: Reality Surveyor First Class. Technical Officer Siobhan Morrigan and I are the only survivors of the Centimillennial Earth Survey Expedition landing party.
Our lander, Heisenberg, is beyond repair, now serving only as our refuge from this uninviting world.
The force that damaged the lander has also destroyed our power sources. Energy is dwindling. Provisions are almost exhausted. I shall continue to transmit in microburst while power lasts, relayed via CESE cruiser Schrödinger in orbit. The possibility of survivors up there seems slim. We have received no response to our communications since the last incident.
For the reality record: I am also an agent of Universal Security; what further harm can my revelation do now?
Earth appeared dead until the great green spot developed which drew the expedition here.
My scientific mission was to establish the truth: could this indeed be a spontaneous rebirth of Earth life?
My security mission: to investigate the possibility of a quantum anomaly, some form of genetic-level entanglement from the Earthstock diaspora.
We suspected there were classical infiltrators from the subversive Druid League on Schrödinger, perhaps on the lander too, but my observations revealed no viable evidence.
It is of little consequence now, but I remain unable to reconcile my reality measurements with Morrigan's reports. Could she, a bio-bred Earthstock, have some advantage over one with enhanced multi-senses? I have surveyed all dimensions accessible to me and find no evidence for the phenomena she reports.
Morrigan claims to see animal life, plants and flowers as recorded in the ancient chronicles. But how can such life exist on this devastated planet?
Conclusion: Morrigan must be delusional.

My view of the outside is limited but Morrigan appears to be gesturing from within the stone circle. It seems she wants me out there too.
She's removing her helmet.
"Siobhan. No. They destroyed the atmosphere."
She can't hear me... Of course, she can't hear me.
Airlock slow. Power almost gone.
Dull click. Door open.
Flood of sunlight.
"No. Siobhan. No!"
But Siobhan has thrown aside her helmet. She's shaking out her long red hair, flowing, beautiful. Head thrown back, she's laughing.
Plants and creatures, the like of which I have never imagined in life, surround her.
"You see, Eirik, it is true," she yells into the clear blue above her gorgeous face, "God does play dice. And this time around we are winners."

About the Author: 
Oscar Windsor-Smith lives in Hertfordshire, UK. With fiction, creative non-fiction and non-fiction published, he has short-listed in New York City Midnight Short Story Challenge, University of Plymouth’s Short Fiction competition and Fish Flash Fiction Prize. He is studying for a degree at Birkbeck, University of London. LinkedIn: uk.linkedin.com/in/oscarwindsorsmith/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/oscar.windsorsmith