Neither Here Nor There

by Nikki Harmon

  “You can’t pick a specific year but you can focus your emotions and try to visualize a specific event that will happen in the future. For example, when I want to travel, sometimes I just focus on an election – they are inevitable and if you pay attention, you can guess who is going to be in it. Sometimes I focus on a holiday like Christmas if I’m trying to find family, sometimes the Olympics are good for jumping because they are planned so far into the future. The trick is to anchor yourself so you can get back to when you came from.”

  “How do I do that?”

  “We have to provide an event in this “when” for you to recall and focus on.”

  “And that would be ….?”

  Amy grabs the plastic box and pops it open. Inside are needles, gloves, a small pot of ink, witch hazel, Band-Aids, gauze and small squares of paper with designs on them.

  “I’m gonna give you a little tattoo.”

  “What! Here?”

  “Sure, don’t worry, this is the best way to make an anchor. You’ll see it, you’ll remember, you can focus on when I gave it to you and come back. Piece of cake!”

  I already have a bunch of piercings and a few tattoos but NASA does not like that kind of thing so I was in the process of letting most of the former close up and the latter fade away.

  “OK,” I say, “but we have to pick a spot that’s not going to interfere with me getting my gig at NASA. Because if I don’t get that, I don’t know where I will end up in the future … probably homeless or insane.”

  “Ok, but we have to put it somewhere you will see it so it can’t be on your back or under your boob or anything like that.

  “How about my upper thigh? I’ll see it when I use the bathroom. Or you know, when I’m with somebody …”

  Amy gives me the side-eye. “Kim, you are not supposed to stay that long. We are just practicing your skills. Getting you comfortable and able to jump whenever and to whatever timeline you are needed.”

  “Fine, fine I was just joking, relax. So, where are we going to do this?”

  “I usually just use this table …”

  “Right here? There’s no place more sterile?”

  Amy gets up and walks over to a cabinet. She pulls out a white paper medical sheet. Smiling at me she lays it out on the table, then goes to the sink to wash her hands.

  “Now, take off your pants and lay down. This won’t hurt a bit!’

  I look through the box and pick out a pretty little stencil of a teardrop-shaped mandala. Then I sip my water, pull down my pants, fold them on the chair and lay down as told. I’m only able to maintain my sense of humor and self-respect because I am wearing new Wonder Woman panties given to me by my little sister. Amy laughs when she sees them but then gets straight to business. She appears to have done this many times before. The first few pokes hurt but then I relax into it.

  “Now Kim, pay attention to how it feels, how it looks right now, how you feel laying on this table … in your Wonder Woman underwear … focus on touch, feel, smell, look at me and hear my voice. You will need all this to get you back. Ok?”

  I try to pay attention with all my senses. I watch her as she moves around my thigh, concentrating on her work, I have to tamp down my smoldering arousal. Getting tattoos always makes me a little horny. I make myself focus on a breathing meditation instead and before I know it, she’s done. Sweaty and stretching from the effort, she looks satisfied. I have a sore but beautiful design right on top of my thigh.

  “Nice job, Amy. Did you learn that in the joint?”

  “Funny. No, it’s just a little hobby of mine. Comes in pretty handy though.”

  “Does everyone have a tattoo?”

  She looks thoughtful. “I think everyone except Grayson. He goes to the past. And Sujatha … she has a few. I think she just likes getting them though. Not sure if that last one was really necessary.”

  Amy reaches into the box and pulls out a little jar of salve and puts it under my nose. It smells of cocoa butter and camphor. Not pleasant at all but when she rubs it on, all the tenderness around the tattoo evaporates.

  “Wow!”

  “Yeah, I learned about it a few years ago. It’s from the future. Only thing I’ve ever brought back here.”

  “You brought that jar back?” I ask incredulous.

  “No, I brought the recipe back but I keep it to myself just in case.”

  “In case of what? I bet it could help a lot of people.”

  “Yeah, but it could also change that timeline, or direct attention my way, and we don’t want either of those things. So that reminds me. You have to be careful about asking too many questions or bringing up anything from the past. Try not to talk too much. Just listen and figure out your way back. Ok?

  “Ok. I got it. Can I get up now?’

  “Oh sorry, yes! I’m going to put a bandage on it for now though.”

  I get up after she applies the bandage and get dressed. Amy cleans up the area and we sit back down at the table.

  “Ok, Kim, let’s try a small jump into the future first. Something simple. Breakfast tomorrow morning? Or … didn’t you say that you were meeting a friend for drinks tonight? Just a couple of hours and then come back once you remember."

  Amy is sweet, but I know when I want to go and what I want to see. I say, “Ok, I’ll try drinks tonight with Kendra at Champagnes.”

  “Good luck, Kim.” Amy looks at me with so much worry in her face I reach out and grab her hand. “Don’t worry Amy. I can do this and I’ll be back.”

  “I’m not worried about that; I’m worried that we need to get this right. Things are beginning to unravel and I feel just terrible about it. We have to fix it! Swallow this and hold the spoon until I take it out, Ok, Kim?”

  “Ok.” She sticks a spoonful of bitter liquid in my mouth and I gulp it down lest I spit it out. I suck on the spoon, which seems to lessen the taste. I close my eyes and think about the one thing I really want to see in the future. I picture it in my mind, trace the course, review schematics and throw myself forward.

  Chapter 27

  Tight. Taut. Chilly. Moving but not moving. Lying down but feeling upright. Breathing but not sure that it is air I’m running through my lungs. I open my eyes. It’s dark. My vision is blurred. I’m focused too close. I see my own eyes staring back at me. Clear, brown, scared. I don’t know where I am, who I am. I am trapped. I begin to panic. My heart starts thumping in my ears. I catch myself, close my eyes and breathe. Launching into decades of practiced breathing techniques, I breathe and Om myself back to stillness and peace. Now, think Kim. I open my eyes and see my reflection again, but I try to focus further. I see small glowing lights on gray or pale blue panels. I see a monitor to the left of my vision, black with a white wavy line humping at regular intervals. Below the white line is a red one, also peaking and dropping. I try to turn my head but I cannot. I try to lift my arms, hands, legs, and feet but cannot. I’m feeling trapped. I watch the red line peaking faster and faster, the white one holds steady. I know where I am. The drugs are beginning to lift but I’m wondering if they are lifting too soon. I am supposed to stay sedated until we reach the orbit of Phobos, one of the Martian moons.

  I experiment with my voice. I can’t get my mouth to move; my lips feel sealed shut. It takes me a minute to wiggle them apart using my tongue, which tires from the effort. I try to hum. As I make a sound that is muted to my own ears but audible to the computer I’m attached to, a puff of moist oxygen is pumped into my helmet. I sense the moisture on my dry face, I inhale it up my nostrils, it lights upon my lips. A subtle warmth envelops my body. My suit is heating up, the puffs of air continue, the fog is lifting. I unseal my jaw and mouth to sigh. I am alive. Although my tongue feels thick and dry, I try to make a sound with my voice. “Uh, uh…” is all that comes out before I cough. It’s a slight cough but it leaves me breathless and fatigued. I decide to rest and close my eyes.

  ∆∆∆

  I hear something. Not quite a sound but more like a
vibration in my bones. Happy, I know what that is. It’s the aft thrusters slowing down the ship. We must be close to Phobos. Opening my eyes, I see my own eyes reflected back at me. Hi Kim. They smile at me. I run my tongue around my mouth. I look past my eyes and see more lights on the panels. The ship is also waking up. I try my voice. “Uh .. Uh.. A, B, C, E, F, G, H, I, J, K …” I’m tired but the talking activates the drinking tube and it pops up right in front of my mouth. With my tongue, I pull it into my mouth and wait. A tiny squirt of liquid comes out, minty and lukewarm but I swish it around as best I can and swallow it. I give the tube two quick sucks and a mouthful of fresh water comes out. I want to do it again but I know I have to wait. I don’t want cramps. I push the tube out and try to turn my head to the right where my co-pilot is ensconced. I can see a dim light and guess that he is doing the same things I am. I try to move my arms to push my food button but I know it’s too soon. I’m just relieved to be able to move at all. I rest again.

  ∆∆∆

  Thirsty. I stick my tongue out and find the tube. Two quick sucks, water. I shake off the sleep. I wiggle my fingers and manage to push the food button. A swallow of nutrient-rich liquid pumps into my mouth and I devour it. I push the button one more time and get another swallow. I can feel my body waking up. I am more energetic and antsy. I wiggle my feet and legs. I lift my arms out in front of me. I can just see my fingertips. I wiggle them to make sure they are mine then my arms collapse in fatigue. Six months of sleep will do that. I lift them one more time just to get a good workout. I think I see Ray’s leg lift up but I can’t be sure. Two more days and we’ll be able to detach ourselves and get to work. Until then, sipping and wiggling is the best we can do. I try to locate another switch with my left hand. It’s a recorder pre-loaded with instructions about what to do and the order in which to do it, classical music, messages from home, updates from NASA, reminders of how to be patient with the body as it awakens, meditations, and two short stories in case I get bored. I find the switch and flip on the music first, I jerk at first to hear something so loud and close to my ear but I get used to it and acclimate myself again to sound.

  ∆∆∆

  I had my first urination today. It went well. The diaper worked and I don’t feel a thing. As much as I practiced peeing in this diaper, apart from being blown up, my biggest fear was feeling wet all day. Ray is trying to signal me with his feet. I rotate my body to the right as much as possible with this tether. He smiles at me. I wave and smile back. He gives me the thumbs up and I give it right back. He’s ready. Tomorrow, we get unhooked. I take another suck of food. I can’t wait.

  ∆∆∆

  Swimming through the ship, listening to vintage Janelle Monae, checking and double-checking calculations and diagnostics. Out the window I can see Phobos, Mars is set to appear starboard in 3.5 hours. I want to be done all our checks so I can just watch it. It’s hard to describe my brain. I vacillate between calculating and attending to every little detail needed for my survival to being freaked out because I am in space, only 20,000 miles from Mars, closer than any human has ever been before, except Ray. I share the honor with Ray, which I don’t mind. Ray and I have trained together for 5 years. Our cohort started out as a group of 37, then 22, then 14. I am one of the oldest at 45 and had to fight to get on this mission. It was my last chance. There is another pair set to join us in a couple of years, but the real prize mission is in the planning stage and those ten are going to Mars’ surface, once we have it ready for them. Today we establish our baseline of operations, tomorrow we fire up the 3-D printer, the hydroponics, and the meteorological monitoring satellite. Today is a day for poetry and wonder.

  I glide over to my bunk. I store the few personal items I have in my compartment and I tether myself there to sleep. I glance at the picture of my wife and son. She made me leave a video for my son before I left “just in case”. He’ll be sixteen in a few weeks, but I left advice for his wedding night and for dealing with a pregnant wife and a new baby. Just in case. I have ample experience with that. When Meer said she wanted to have a baby, no one was more surprised than me. All her life, she’d been an athlete and a butchy one at that. But I was not going to risk my career with a pregnancy. Her retirement from basketball left her a little lost, her clock started ticking and a baby seemed the perfect next adventure. She also said she wanted to keep a little bit of me if I ever got off-planet. Just in case. So we had Barack. Tall, bold and tender, insightful and pragmatic. I love him so much my heart aches. And Meer. I’ve always loved Meer, even when she broke my heart in college. Even after not hearing from her for years. Even when she called me out the blue from Russia and I cursed her out. Even when she sent me five-dozen red roses from Serbia. Every one of them had thorns and I bled from them trying not to call her. Even when she sent me a plane ticket to Turkey. And I went, scowling the whole flight. But when I saw her. Ah, my heart sank and rose with her very breath and I fell right back in love with her. There was no one who compared to her, and I stayed with her until they kicked me out of the country.

  Despite the space program and all the progress we have made, I am worried for my country and the world itself. The Soviet Union has started issuing tariffs on all oil-consuming countries. Their stronghold on the Middle East and Africa has tightened with every year since their conquest of the region. Though they promised to be fair and rule lightly from afar, it has proven a lie. One after the other, they have stripped the power and the wealth from each sovereignty, carving them up and selling them, reducing them to no more than corporate landholdings. Employees are more like serfs, supervisors maintain their status by abusing the poor souls they ride into exhaustion. Every industry serves the oil and as it is used up, the land is ravaged by more and bigger drills. As the world community watches, civilization has reversed itself and we are back to the Industrial Age. But some of us want out. And so, the scientific community, along with wealthy innovators pushed for Mars. So here we are, having paid a king’s ransom to the Soviets for their oil, hoping that perspective will bring some kind of humanity. But I worry that it won’t mean a thing.

  I kiss the picture of my family, say a silent prayer for us all and tether down for the night.

  ∆∆∆

  I awake to Ray singing, “Signed, Sealed, Delivered, I’m Yours”. When I float over to him, he smiles and informs me that before we get to work, we are to take “showers”. It’s been a week. I agree to go first, even though I know the water will be stale and smell horrible. I head into the shower room, review the procedure posted on the wall and begin to disrobe. It feels weird. I’m already lacking any heft in zero-G, and with each item I take off, I feel more and more insubstantial. The bright lights and white walls reflect on my skin, which has lost its richness. I knew this would happen but six months with no lotion, little humidity, and no sunlight has left my skin flat and grayish and papery. I rub my hands over my body to remind it of human touch and maybe wake up the life inside my skin, which seems to be asleep. I reach down to squeeze my thighs and notice my tattoo. I keep pinching and rolling my muscles but I can’t stop looking at the intricate design on my leg. I’ve had it for so long but now something is nagging me … it’s supposed to mean something. My hands move down to my calves, but the tattoo has me transfixed, like it’s whispering to me, not demanding attention but pleading for it. I’m rubbing my feet and toes when it hits. “KIM!” I’m supposed to go. I’m not supposed to be here. No, I’m supposed to be here but I’m not supposed to stay. Amy gave me this tattoo… on a table… in a warehouse … “KIM!” Oh, but I don’t want to go. I want to see Mars rise again. I’ve been trying to get here my whole life. I’m not leaving. I don’t care. I don’t care. I rub my legs and thighs, I shake my bottom, I cup my breasts. We are here in space orbiting Mars! I’m not leaving! I massage my shoulders, wiggle my fingers, and twist my hands. I reach for the soap foam and sponge and scrub myself. It feels so good. I watch the dead skin flakes float off of me and get sucked into the vent by my
side. I take my time and get clean. I’m beginning to feel like my old self, my skin is waking up and the brown is less gray. I wash my face, closing my eyes against the foam. I see Barack and Meer behind my eyelids and I remember that I have to help them. Help us all. I have to go back. I slap at the tattoo, angry at it. I remember now that I chose it. And Amy did it by hand. I want desperately to finish my mission. I trained so hard for it! I gave up so much for it! Fuck! I make myself a promise, a vow that, no matter what, I will get back here. I take a deep breath and glare at the tattoo but nothing happens. I gather myself and think back to getting the tattoo, how I laid on the table, Amy’s (stupid) face and the joy she seemed to take in poking me. I force myself to concentrate on the remembered pain, the design of the stencil, the teardrop, who I was then, another mission I had to complete. I focus and bring forward the rumbling in the back of my head. I close my eyes and submit to the blurring, the roar and push, no, fling myself back and inward to Amy and the table.

  Chapter 28

  “You’re back!!!” Amy squeezes me though I am still lying on the table. I sit up and begin to sob.

  “What’s the matter? What’s wrong?” Amy comes close to hug me again but I shrug her off.

  “I was orbiting Phobos.”

  “What!?”

  “I was on a spaceship, orbiting Phobos, Mars’ moon? I was there! And now I’m here. In this … warehouse… with you!” I wipe up my tears on the back of my hand.

  “Oh …” she says, “But I thought we agreed that you were going to do a small jump. I thought you were just going out for drinks …”

  I jump up from the table and walk away from her. I’m remembering myself on the ship, the feel of weightlessness, the sounds of the computers, Ray singing in my headset, the view of Mars rising. It’s starting to fade and I am desperate to hold on to it. After a minute, I turn back to her and say, “I know. I wanted to know if … never mind,” I say, shaking off any guilt, “Ok, I can jump forward and back if I have a trigger.”