by Nikki Harmon
“I don’t have a …”
“Kidding!”
Someone bumps me on my other side and I turn to see Kendra and her friend sweaty, smiley and ordering more shots. Kendra looks happier than I’ve seen her in a long time.
“Did Jen leave?”
“Yeah, after the card check.”
“Card check my ass! Illegal search and seizure is what it is!”
“Yeah, well after that, she said her hip was hurting so she and Darryl went home.”
“I hope he’s the real deal. That girl has been through enough.”
“Yeah, so speaking of girls, whatcha doing over there?” I nod my head to her friend.
“Oh, Jay? I’m just having some fun. He’s fine though right?”
“Yes, but are you sure he’s your type?”
“He’s my type tonight. And who’s that?” She smiles over my shoulder at Sujatha.
“That’s an old friend from Temple.”
“Is that right? She’s beautiful. I suggest you hit that… or maybe she’ll be my type tonight too …” Kendra leaned around me and stuck her hand out to Sujatha.
“Hi, I’m Kendra. I see Kim’s taste in women has improved.”
I gasp and turn to Sujatha. “I didn’t say anything like that …” But she is just laughing and smiling at me. She kisses Kendra’s hand and says, “Charmed. I’m sure.” I look back and forth at them flirting and I step in between them.
“Hey, let’s not forget whose birthday it is!” The bartender returns with four shots and we each grab one. Jay winks at me. I just laugh and down the spicy, sweet, lemony goodness. Sujatha grabs my elbow.
“I might sweat but let’s dance anyway, ok?”
The four of us jump up and head to the middle of the dance floor where, in our minds, we own it for the next hour.
∆∆∆
Though I had every intention of trying to make out with Sujatha, by the time we got back to Kendra’s house, I was so tired and drunk I passed out on the couch. Sujatha, dehydrated and exhausted from her long night in leather, found her way into one of the many guest rooms in the mini-mansion. Only Kendra and Jay managed to finish the evening as they started it – all over each other.
∆∆∆
Morning found us late and cotton-mouthed but satisfied. We ate in silence, downing aspirin with our coffee. It was Friday so Sujatha and I left right after we ate to try and beat the Beltway rush hour. Kendra and Jay, not quite out of bed, looked like they were happy for us to go.
The ride to DC was quiet since both of us were hungover, but we chatted about inconsequential stuff like how cars have gotten larger and slower as more people use them for housing. We passed several of the new mobi sites set up along I-95. It started as a fad for the young entrepreneur but now, after the last recession and the tornado clusters that tore up the northeast, this was home for hundreds of thousands of people across the US. Whole new economies sprung up around the communities so now they are being targeted for regulations, permits, fees, and taxes like all the cool new stuff. RIP World Wide Web. I also learned that Sujatha had quite the foul mouth and a weird obsession with Mozart. Under duress, I confessed my fear of public bathrooms. Of course, we ran straight into the DC Friday afternoon traffic. We listened to the news while I patiently inched the car forward and Sujatha cursed a blue streak. The global news was not good, as usual, but we were used to that and tried to plan our lives around the various impending disasters.
I made arrangements to meet Savvy at her office on 16th Street. She sounded busy but intrigued. We haven’t seen each other since competing for the same summer internship at SpaceX. I was bitter about that until I realized they had been hijacked by the Russian equivalent – SPUTNIK21. That’s who she lobbies for now – the new privatized space program, SpaceX International Associates.
∆∆∆
Savvy meets us in the lobby. She says it is to get us through security faster, but I think she wants a chance to figure out what I want first. She hugs me like she means it and treats us both like old beloved friends. I am suspicious. She hasn’t changed much. She is still stunning, but now she is also sophisticated, her youth weighed down a bit by her import. Having known her for 15 years, I am not fooled by her poise and casual elevator chit-chat. I know just who she bribed to get that internship and how much she paid. Sujatha is both warm and cool to her, a feat I admire. I struggle to keep my eyes from rolling with every neutral, polite phrase she utters.
When we walk into Savvy’s office, I am struck by the stark lighting and absolute quiet of the room. I conclude that the walls are not only sound-proof but that the room is probably under constant visual surveillance. There is a huge map of the known galaxy on the wall behind her desk. But she faces an artful arrangement of black-framed photos of her posing with various important world figures on the opposite wall. These are interspersed with her multiple gold-framed degrees announcing her undeniable qualifications. Sitting down, I realize that from my vantage point, she stands between me and the rest of the universe; from hers, I am just another in a long line of accomplishments. The lack of subtlety seems very …. Russian, hell, maybe it’s just political. Either way, it seems like a clear and probably very accurate message to whoever comes through her doors.
After a quick visit to the ladies’ room, we sit and get down to business.
“So, Kim. While it is always a pleasure to see you, I’m sure you and Sujatha have come for some purpose.”
“Yeah, we have. Savvy, we have a long history and you have never known me to be anything but honest and forthcoming, right?”
“Well, I can think of one time I thought you could have been more forthcoming …” She laughs and glances at Sujatha who just looked confused. “Sorry,” she continues, “Honestly, I just haven’t seen anybody from home in such a long time. Whatever this is, it is good to see your face, Kim.”
“Thanks Savvy. I get it. This is going to sound bizarre but I’m looking for some information on a scientist, a Russian scientist who, I think, might be capable of causing a great deal of harm to this country, possibly to many countries.”
She leans toward me. “What kind of damage?”
“I can’t say because I’m not sure yet. And honestly, I don’t want you to know too much in case it’s not safe. I just need to know more about him.”
She sits back and looks at me. “This is some bullshit story, Kim. Who sent you here?”
“Nobody sent me here. I’m here because I … I got caught up in something, unintentionally, you understand, and I have to help undo the damage that I did.”
“Ahh … so you are the bad guy. For a minute, it sounded like you were on some superhero ego trip.”
“Nah, I just need to know a little something about a scientist.”
“Are you going to kill him? Because I cannot be involved in anything like that.”
“Kill him? No, I just need to know where he’s from, where he lives, where he studied maybe.”
“Why don’t you just go through the university databases? He’s sure to be in one of them.”
“I don’t think he’s affiliated with any institution.”
“Rogue scientist? With no funding? Well, then I do think I know where to look but what’s in it for me?”
I stare at her furious with myself. Of course, I should have known she would want something. And then it comes to me. Phobos.
“Ok, I may have some information you can use but you can’t ask me how I know. I want the scientist first.”
“Kim, I’m kind of tired of playing games. I have a late dinner date and I have a report to finish up first…”
“Ok, ok.. I know something about the first human trip to Mars … I know some of the specific formulas you will need to fuel the mission and hibernate the crew. I will give them to you for this scientist. You will be a hero and maybe you can leave all this bullshit behind and get back to science.”
I hit a nerve.
“What makes you think that I want to give
up all of this?!?! Especially to go back to some smelly, sterile lab?”
“Savvy, you can dress this up all you want, but you are a paper pusher here. A very well-paid one but nevertheless, what do you do besides have meetings and charm the people your bosses want you to charm?”
“I beg your fucking pardon!? I influence the ENTIRETY of the space exploration budget across the globe! I write the fucking policies and line items and ensure that we will get what is required to fund our mission.”
“Your body and beauty are being used and your brain is being wasted. Sure, you write policy, so what? How many lobbyists are there up here on M street? A few thousand? But you, you Savvy, have always been smarter than all of your teachers. You should be writing equations, not line items. This is beneath you and you know it.” I sit back and stare at her, waiting for her to continue to lay down some bullshit.
“Fuck you, Kim.”
“Fuck you, Savvy. You stole my internship for this? To be a puppet? Maldita sea la madre que te parió y te pujó!” Savvy jumps up from her chair and comes around to stand in front of me. Sujatha slides out of her chair and stands behind me, but I don’t get up. I don’t have to.
“You bitch! I should have you thrown out of here for this.”
“You are being an idiot!” I look up at her, “Don’t miss this chance to be the hero of Mars. You know I don’t bullshit around. If I say I have it, I have it.” She turns and grabs a notepad off her desk and shoves it at me.
“Write down what you know about this scientist and what you want to know.” I take it and scribble some notes. I show it to Sujatha, she adds a line and makes a correction then hands it back to Savvy. She tears off the paper, folds it and tucks it into her bra with a wry smile. Then she writes an address and a time on the notepad, tears off a few pages with it and hands it to me. I tuck it into my bra and smile back at her.
“You better not be fucking with me, Kim. You know I know people.” I laugh and give her a quick hug.
“Thank you and trust me, we will all be better off.” I step aside as Sujatha extends her hand and politely adds, “It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Montana.”
Savvy shakes her hand but looks at me. Sujatha and I turn and leave. In the elevator, she just stares at me. “I hope you know what you are doing.”
“I do.” But I don’t. I am not at all sure I can come up with the equations I’ve promised.
∆∆∆
A couple of hours later, Sujatha and I leave the weed bar and I have my answers. It was a lot simpler than I imagined. I pulled up flutes on my phone, smoked and concentrated. I didn’t have to make a jump so much as I had to remember the future. Two meals, 1 gallon of water, two hours of flirting and a slow-motion make-out session later, I was able to remember the engine formula needed to get a ship into Phobos’ orbit as well as the precise amounts of Propofol and Hydrogen Sulfide gas needed to slow down the human bioprocesses.
We sober up by taking a walk on the Mall. Though surrounded by see-through concrete security walls, the Capitol, Monument and White House retain their nobility in person. Too bad nobody works there anymore. Politicians meet in cyberspace now, coming together only for formal affairs of state. They don’t do much anyway, just signing off on whatever their official sponsors want. But the disintegration of our democracy doesn’t bother me as much as the quiet shrug of acceptance from the citizenry. Tonight, though, some of those citizens are out and about taking in the majesty of the buildings gleaming white in their spotlights. History buffs already wax nostalgic about those empty beacons in the darkness. But I look up for my true north. Beyond the moon, beyond the sun, space is where I want to be. Politics doesn’t matter up there, money doesn’t matter up there. Just discovery and survival and the ability to solve problems before they become predicaments. I feel a tap on my shoulder.
“Still high I see,” Sujatha comments.
“Yeah, maybe a little. I was just thinking about …”
“Phobos?”
“Yeah … it was incredible.”
“You’ll get back there. It was this timeline, right?”
“Yeah, and others I hope. What if finding this Russian and somehow reversing this ability messes up my chances? What if anything we do, has larger ramifications than we intend? Are we just going to spend our lives jumping around trying to fix the course of this ... this… human trajectory? Maybe this is what is supposed to happen, maybe we are supposed to learn this and this is how we end. Implosion.”
“High taking a dark turn is it?” Sujatha laughs.
“I’m serious, still high, but I know what I’m saying. What if our messing around changes too much and we end up blowing us up, or blowing our chance to hit rock bottom and then rise up again? What if stagnation is what ends up killing us?”
“Ok, Kim. I believe this is all about you and Phobos, but hypothetically, if Patel and Wasserman were supposed to make and exploit this techno-ability, then why does 23AK exist if not to give us another chance? Why did we students individually and collectively decide to stop helping them? It seems to me that they are interfering with the natural course of civilization, for better or worse. They are trying to skewer it to benefit the few. We are just trying to let it fall on its own sword, in due time.”
I stare at her. “So, you think our civilization is doomed? Then why are we even trying?” She shrugs.
“Every living thing must die, Kim. We all know it is coming. It is what you do with the life you have that is important. Like go to Mars. Humans should go to Mars because we can. We should go for the joy of it, the excitement of a new discovery, the possibilities of another place to live. We should not go to own it and its resources. That’s what SpaceX and Sputnik21 are about – owning the transportation, owning the habitats, owning the right to restock and provide necessities. It’s sickening.”
“You think we can change that?”
“I do. And it’s worth trying. I don’t much like the idea of giving up on the whole human race. That’s just too … pussy.”
“Sujatha, I swear I had no idea …”
“Don’t be a pussy, Kim. Is it time to see your friend yet? I’m getting a little hungry.”
I pull out the paper. It reads “midnight. Busboys and Poets, Underground.
“What time is it?”
“It’s almost eleven.”
“Close enough, let’s head over to the Underground.”
“The what?”
“It used to be a subway, then it was a mall, then it was a bomb shelter, then a homeless shelter, now it’s a collection of performance spaces and cafes. It’s kind of cool. At least it was.”
Despite the plethora of little Uber Coopers hovering about, we hail a taxi. They are the best way to get around off the grid. The driver doesn’t bother looking at us. He just grunts when I state our destination, starts the meter and puts on the complimentary Comflix. My high finally wearing off, I stare out the window instead and note the changes. Sujatha pulled up some old Bollywood.
“I used to love these movies when I was a kid.”
She shimmies her shoulders and leans back recalling the moves from a long-forgotten dance routine.
“There was so much joy back then!”
“It was fake joy.”
“Yes, but it was joy nevertheless.”
I turn back to my window and wonder about Savvy. Sujatha continues her dance down memory lane until we get to our stop way out in South East DC. I pay the man cash, which he also grunts at and we step out. It’s quiet for a Friday night. We head to the gate and the bouncer, show our IDs and head inside looking for the right café.
I’m surprised when it’s the first one to the left. I was expecting to find it tucked away in the back, under an eave with a locked door and secret knock. But no, it is a well-lit, bustling café and bookshop with a tiny stage on the left side. Tonight, there is just one scruffy white guy strumming an acoustic guitar and cooing into the mike. It is strangely comforting. We head straight to the counter, o
rder a couple of sandwiches and drinks (I eyeball the pumpkin muffin and laugh to myself) and we head to the furthest table in the back.
After eating, I use the store bag to make a neater copy of the equations I remember from the future. I tuck the original away for safekeeping. I carefully fold up the bag and tuck it in my back pocket. Sujatha seems hypnotized by the crooner; I leave her to it and wander the book aisles. It feels indulgent but I open some books and read the first few pages. I contemplate buying the latest Stephen King but then I remember when I am. Even so, I think at least I will remember reading it later …? I put the book down. Too complicated. When I look up, there is Savvy looking right at me. I can’t decipher the look on her face, only that it makes me worry for her. I catch her eye and walk back to our table. She joins us there.
“I’m glad you came, Kim. After you left I started to wonder if I had hallucinated the whole thing.”
“You? Hallucinate? Dream about me, maybe”.
She laughs. “You wish. I can’t stay long, I’m already pushing it but I think this is what you want.” She pulls a small manila packing envelope from her bag and pulls out a small picture.
“Is this the guy you are looking for?”
I have to stare at the face for a while before I can recall it. Sujatha squints and nods.
“I believe that’s him,” I reply.
“Are you sure Kim, because, this information is classified and I don’t want an innocent scientist in trouble because of me.”
“Oh trust me. This guy is not innocent.” She shrugs and hands over the envelope.
I retrieve the bag from my pocket and unfold it on the table. Pointing to each of the equations, I try to seem more confident than I am. “Fuel to orbit Phobos – but check this particular calculation and take-off has to be perfectly timed – don’t even try it if you are not 100% sure of the timing. Ok?” Savvy frowns studying the numbers. “This one is for hibersleep. It’s simple enough but preparing the bodies is crucial – eating and storing lots of fats and simple amino acids help with muscular degeneration. The relevant research came mostly from polar bears and those 17-year locusts, you know what I’m talking about?”