[AUDIO) We begin on a space station, hearing the hum of the slow turning engine. The room is large and nearly empty.

ARCHIVIST: Welcome to the Archives. Before we begin, a note. I have been informed that the record from our last session was judged as inappropriate and irrelevant in relation to the central question. I have therefore been asked to offer an apology, and suggest you ignore the contents of that record in your deliberations. I apologize for wasting any of your time and hope you will hear only what you need to, in future.

Our record for review today will be from section 27: Historical Worlds. Today’s sample is from Meandall, which while never part of the Collected, has often been a key part of our region’s history.

Please note that any opinions expressed in these samples belong solely to the speaker on record and do not reflect the views of this station, the archival union, or the Collected Archives itself. If anything in this review causes listener distress or confusion please report to the nearest attendant for assistance. Potential sources of distress include mention of a plague, mention of death, and discussion of medical symptoms. Please also note there will be time for questions and observations once the sample has concluded.

[AUDIO] [At the sound of an electronic swoop, the sounds of the space station fade away. They are replaced the sounds of a city. Distant and not so distant traffic whizzes by quickly, breaking up the dull rumble of hundreds of generators. Close by, machines hum and whir with an almost musical regularity. These sounds continue uninterrupted throughout the recording.

ELPAN DRIST: [with a sigh] All right, here goes.

Day 47 - Evening report, second ward South. Dr. Elpan Drist recording.

Since this morning’s report, we’ve lost three patients. Two, I mentioned then as critical. The third was a surprise. She still had both her sight and sense of smell as of a few hours ago. Her decline was quick and complete. With these three the ward has lost a total of thirty-seven patients within the last two weeks, just over thirty percent.

And… I think we’re supposed to be celebrating. A thirty percent loss two weeks after symptoms present is drastically better than our control ward, which has had between sixty-five and seventy-five percent losses in that timeframe. Half the loss. It’s a good sign for the regimen we’re testing.

Although loss of sight is usually the first symptom, our recent success seems to have less to do with preserving any of the senses, and more to do with addressing the issue of muscle control. In the final stage, almost all patients struggle both to breathe and swallow. It may seem like a step backwards but we’ve decided to ignore the recent trials which preserved sight and focus on our three longest-term survivors.

ELPAN DRIST: Our research team has a few more tweaks we’d like to make before we start with the next round of patients, and we’re hopeful tha-

No. No I- I I…. I can’t. I- I mean, Who’s listening to this report? I know none of my recordings are making it to the general public, and you’re going to add as much spin and hope as you feel necessary no matter what I say, so what the hell?

Thirty percent in two weeks. More than half of the world infected and that number growing how quickly now? Are we gonna figure out this cure while there are still any people left to use it? I read the news, even in here. Shutting down the shipyards for upgrades? You mean shutting them down because there aren’t enough healthy and skilled people to keep them going anymore. You need us all here on the ground in the hospitals and food plants. And even we’re spread thin. I asked for two replacement staff a week ago. After all, not all of the thirty-seven started off as patients.

We’re doing our best, but we’re tired, and there are only so many hands. We’re making mistakes, and I…

It doesn’t matter. We all know it wouldn’t have saved him. No one un-withers.

ELPAN DRIST: I wish I could say these words in person. I wish whoever listens to these was down here with the sound of all these people breathing, and the smells, and the waiting that’s heavy enough to feel in the air. I’m sure you’re in the sky where everything’s still clean, breathing filtered air, making choices. Maybe if you were down here you’d make better ones. Maybe your pride wouldn’t be so loud if you had the noise of the ward around you. They offered us an alliance, twice. They offered us help, food and medicine and enough people to keep the world going. It’s not like it was before. We’re not better than them. We’re dying. Who cares who’s in charge of a sick world? Who cares what flag we fly? If you were down here you’d-

[sigh] But you’re not. I am, and I don’t make policy. You sent me here to cure the Withering, and I will.

So fine, back to the test. This new regimen seems to preserve sight the longest. We’re still not sure why. Several of our patients have held on for more than six weeks, although their muscle control and strength faded just as quickly as the rest. Of the first group, three are still… here. We’ve been testing them daily for new antibodies, cellular changes, altered brain activity since no one can seem to figure out exactly what the Withering is attacking.

Without that, we’re just stabbing in the dark.

I can’t believe I’m saying this. I know I should just leave the report there and go back to my rounds, but…

ELPAN DRIST: We’re running out of time. We’re running out of people, and supplies, and energy, and hope. So while I still have a little of that last thing left I have to at least try.

Save us. Please. Send them a message and ask to join them. Let them set conditions. Give them all the tech and ships and data they could ask for. Beg, if you have to. Take a page from my book there because I’m begging you. Either get their help saving us, or get as many healthy people away from here as you can before you lose everything. Leave me. Leave my patients and my crew and everyone in the other wards. We’ve been exposed so much we’re a danger but I know you’ve managed to keep some areas safe and free of this.

So even if you can’t save us all, keep the ones you can. We’ll keep working on the cure, but just… save us.

Elpan Drist signing off.

End recording and send.

[AUDIO] An electronic swoop again signals a change. The few sounds of the city fade away and the sound of the space station returns.

ARCHIVIST: Today’s sample was the last logged report of a doctor Elpan Drist, one of Meandall’s specialists in infectious diseases. Meandall presents an interesting example. As the recording hinted, they were offered membership more than once, most likely due to their reportedly superior ship-based technology. They declined each offer. Unfortunately, by the time a cure was found in one of the Collected worlds, the population of Meandall was too far gone to be restored or resettled as a whole. Their remaining people were absorbed by nearby worlds and their land and infrastructure sold to offset the cost.

This concludes today’s record. If you have any questions or wish to comment on today’s experience, please visit an attendant and they will happily record your response.

[AUDIO] With a softer swoop, the sounds of the hall fade out to be replaced by the sound of a smaller, softer room. An office.

FIRST ATTENDANT: Better. Gloomy, but better.

ARCHIVIST: I.. I’m… heh, I’m glad you approve, ma’am

FIRST ATTENDANT: Showing them the consequence of independence. I suspect they’ve learned the lesson we intended. One more, Archivist. We’ll give them one more session to make up their minds. Make it count, won’t you?

MUSIC[ A sparse, lonely repeating motif with a sound like crystal, a shifting bed of strings underneath.

CREDITS: The Last Echoes is written by Trace Callahan with editing by Evan Tess Murray. Direction is by Evan Tess Murray. Sound design and music are by Trace Callahan. This episode features Mike Cuellar, Chijioke Williams, and Trace Callahan. We are so glad you’re here to share these stories with us. You can, find us online at Lastechoespod, on Twitter, the Fediverse, and Tumblr or visit our website lastechoes.com. We’d love to hear from you.

Thank you to our season one supporters, including Maddie, Rebekah, Kate, Anne, Christopher, Holly, Tina, Stephanie, and Caroline.

Keep telling your story, the hands held and tears shed, the hugs and long, winding talks. Together, our stories make our whole world. And when all that’s left is an echo, no one’s voice is small.