Adam's Rings

by Matthew D. White

  Adam’s Rings

  By

  M. D. White

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 by Matthew D. White

  Bravo Copy

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission from the author.

  For THO and the Weathermen. Bring the clear skies!

  Other Books by Matthew D. White:

  Stand-alone books:

  The Deftly Paradox

  Adam’s Rings

  The Mission:SRX series:

  101: Before Space Recon, a short story

  102: Handyman, a short story

  1: Confessions of the First War

  2. Ephemeral Solace

  3. Deep Unknown

  4. Commander’s Wrath

  www.mdwhiteauthor.com/launchpad

  Innocence

  It’s funny, the way in which a mind records its memories. The most innate occurrences, often coupled by unrelated features of minimal significance, find themselves indelibly etched into the brain’s deepest corners. Even more interesting is the first perceptible sensation that is chosen, cataloged and lovingly remembered by the mind, to be recalled at a moment’s notice for decades to come. The reasoning seems devoid of logic, as there would be no way for the mind to know what would be useful to retain far in the future. Rather, a system of blind luck would be more likely, although without the infinite mystery which surrounds the newly-formed creation.

  The early mind lacks the foresight to understand what might be useful in the future; everything is shiny, new, and important. Instead, it grabs onto features at random, stashing them away for a time when their recollection might be of use. As memories mount, the lesser ones fade with age, until they are little more than noise against the infinite sea of possibilities and subject to dismissal or manipulation. Only in times of ecstasy or desperation are those earliest memories recalled to provide a measurable edge to survival.

  ***

  The room was light, the morning sun casting its familiar rays from the large, arched window on the facing wall. The child’s eyes flashed open, greeted at once by an expected sight. He knew the surroundings, the pictures mounted to the walls, as well as the faces which orbited his presence. A small arrangement of models hung in the air above his head, twisting softly in the slowly moving air. On the lowest level of the mobile rested a pair of objects he had seen most every day.

  One was an orb, painted a dull yellow in several competing shades swirling amongst each other to represent a moving system upon its surface. It was bisected by a plastic disc, nearly undetectable by his new eyes, and extenuated by a ring of glitter sprayed about the sphere. There were others like it on the display, of course, but for some reason, this one touched his heart whenever his eyes drifted across it. The accompanying models on the toy felt distant and nameless, like the fruit of the tree beyond the window that would list to the side with the rush of every gentle breeze. This model, this small yellow sphere, was his, and in a way a constant guardian of his miniscule existence.

  The other object nearest to him looked to be a long, silver tube marked at regular intervals with strange black etchings and symbols. It contrasted the sphere perfectly, the straight lines being carefully planned as they symmetrically raced up the tiny fuselage. From the child’s vantage point, the object appeared to orbit between the various spheres of the mobile, moving in to get a closer look at one or the other before accelerating back away from the subject. However, as much as he willed their rendezvous, it never reached the yellow one.

  Those days he spent in peace, carried in the arms of the one whose presence was always near. The modest home was meticulously kept, despite his best efforts otherwise, and the comings and goings of a small circle of relatives enamored with his every movement were managed. He noticed little the occasional passing car down the sleepy rural drive and would stare out at the world in silent amazement at every presented opportunity.

  Each night was greeted in much the same way. The wide windows installed within his room gave an expansive view of the sky above the fields and scrubby trees, and he found himself reaching to the silver objects that flew aloft far from his tiny world. As his eyes grew heavy in the twilight, he increasingly felt drawn to the unknown beyond their humble abode.

  ***

  Years progressed like a whirlwind, never in the moment, of course, but quickly enough in retrospect to have all of existence compressed into a single image. Elementary school had brought new changes to Adam’s life, not the least of which was the transition to a new building, but also access to a different library. His parents had also stepped up their activities during the week, affording him an extra two hours every afternoon to peruse the stacks.

  That particular day, he was looking for something special. A single volume, aged by several decades, waited in the corner of the nonfiction section with the numerical code of 520.46, which he had long ago committed to memory. The book was where he had left it the last time, dusty and pressed against the wall of the equally-aged and musty wooden cabinet. He pulled it out to reveal the familiar cover: a shot of the Earth’s rise over the horizon of the moon. He stared at the image, lost in its mystery, before dropping to the floor to page through its contents one more time.

  There were other children in his class who talked incessantly of magic, wizards, and kingdoms of fantasy. Or dinosaurs. Adam had never understood the allure; on the pages before him was more intrigue and surprise than what could be conjured by a thousand warlocks of make-believe lands. What he saw in his hands was as real as the threadbare carpet and his faded jeans with the pale green knees and frayed hems that he often stumbled over.

  Each page brought him the sight of another awesome phenomena. The planets and their moons were all represented, followed by the sun and a look at a collection of galaxies and a few of the more famous Messier objects. Adam felt a connection to each one in turn, that the bodies of the heavens were simply waiting for him to arrive and share in their majesty. He continued on, re-reading each passage as he went, having memorized the better portion, before stopping at the final essay on the last page.

  Titled “Where do we go from here?” it presented a theoretical mission into deep space, along with an artist’s rendition of a massive black ship designed to carry generations of passengers throughout the universe. The idea that a self-sustaining colony would choose to undertake such an expedition, forgoing the familiar way of life back home, struck him. There would be no experience of sunlight, no spring rains, autumn breezes, or silent walks down snowy trails. It could have been by necessity, he supposed, since he had also read books about how the Earth could one day fail to support them. Similarly, colonists and adventurers had struck out for the unknown since antiquity, pursuing fortunes and freedom alike, so Adam mused it might have been part of a shared humanity which he just didn’t comprehend.

  Regardless, to leave Earth entirely or to never have known it at all struck Adam in an odd way. It’d be worth a visit, to be sure, but to leave and never return? Well, that was a level of dedication he wasn’t prepared to accept. Plus, it wasn’t as if any of those lost generations in the middle would have been given the choice to forgo it all for a life on Earth. They would spend their lives in the darkness having never seen the green fields and blue skies of home nor stepping foot on their eventual destination.

  ***

  Adam knew every crevice of the farmyard, finding every disparate handhold and loadbearing rock as he scrambled over the low stone wall between t
he pair of fields. As the sun set, he dashed away from the line of trees, across the gently rolling plain, and toward the mound of rock that stood apart from the others. The sun had slipped below the horizon, leaving the field nearly in darkness, but the journey was familiar, to say the least.

  The bare wall of stones which had been laid generations ago crested a slight rise in the field and had strangely remained devoid of plant life, providing an unparalleled view of the southern sky. On previous adventures to the site, he and his friends had taken it upon themselves to add stones to the center of the wall, creating their own version of a medieval fortification. Even though they were able to scale the sides in seconds, the fantasy remained that they could use the battlement to hold back the imaginary hordes of faceless invaders.

  “Are you crazy? Where are we going?”

  “Just trust me. You’ll see.” Adam said through a suppressed grin, gripping Becca’s hand tighter as they reached the destination and hiked up the final incline of rock. He wasn’t too concerned for their safety; there were no snakes or dangerous animals to speak of, and with the noise they were making, even fewer would venture out to find them. On top of that, it had been over a year and a half since the property had caused an injury. That was by the official count amongst his friends, although Adam had to admit it was Will’s own fault for sprinting through the woods with a pellet gun and driving his knee into a broken tree branch.

  Becca was her own person and increasingly special in Adam’s eyes. They had struck up a random conversation on the way out of school at the beginning of the year and since then had spent increasingly more time together. Her family lived closer to town, but it was only a few minutes via bicycle in each direction, which made their friendship all the more accessible. Adam looked back at her as he led the way, freezing as he caught the gaining starlight flicker across her hair.

  She caught his glance and flashed a smile. “What?” she asked.

  Adam stopped, feeling himself lost in her darkened eyes before he shook away the sensation. “Oh, nothing… Come on,” he said, covering for the flutter in his stomach. Together they reached the top of the mound and carefully stepped across to the southern face, taking seats beside each other on a large, flat field stone that had been smoothed by millennia unseen to become the perfect cap of his cadre’s adolescent fortification.

  “If you’re trying to impress me, I can’t say it’s working. I’m seeing stars…” Becca said, taking in the sweeping canopy above. “It’s a new moon, so quite a few constellations, and the arm of the galaxy. This isn’t news to me.”

  “Just wait,” Adam insisted, an edge of excitement to his voice. “Watch that tall group of trees down on the next field over it.” He pointed down across the grassy field. “You’ll see a cluster of stars rise out of it.”

  “Okay…” Becca said, watching the horizon. As Adam had said, a small grouping of stars did indeed rise from the area of the trees. As the last of the sun burned off into twilight, the sky continued to darken into inky blackness. She sighed, watching the unremarkable formation as much as Adam’s intent staring on it. “Is that it? Come on, it’s getting cold,” she added, shifting to get to her feet.

  Adam held her hand tighter, interlocking it between his own. “No, watch.”

  Becca rolled her eyes but complied, returning to the chilly stone settee. As she quietly scanned their surroundings, she caught an odd glint of light in the corner of her eye. It had flashed brilliantly, but in a blink was gone. “What was that?” she asked, seeing that Adam was beaming, although he refused to answer.

  The flash of light was followed with a second, this time higher up and streaking above their heads, then a third. Her eyes flickered about as the bits of light sliced high through the night sky all around them. Becca’s mouth dropped. “What is all of this?”

  “Meteor shower,” Adam stated matter-of-factly, although his eyes remained wide and transfixed above the horizon. “Earth is passing through the trail of a comet, and tonight we’ve got a prime position to see it.”

  Taken by the sudden explosion of activity, Becca continued to watch the show, which had increased in rate into the tens per second. As her host had said, the particles seemed to emanate from the area near the cluster of stars, as if they were being thrown off by the glowing bodies themselves. Becoming lost in the majesty of their world, she relaxed and rested her head upon Adam’s shoulder.

  The boy felt a sharp jab through a nerve in his back and his heartrate quickened. He had watched his sky turn on a thousand nights before, but this was the first time he had the fortunate opportunity to share it with someone else—someone with an angelic smile, gentle hands, and hair with the scent of wildflowers. For that moment, the universe aligned and he at once was complete.

  ***

  The blue sky of early spring shone bright through the classroom window, calling the occupants to share in its limitless bounty of excitement and discovery. Adam gazed longingly over the grounds, the far tree line and onward to the distant horizon above, in his own small way taking part in the adventure which he found himself unable to touch. The droning of the discussion around him served only to raise the noise floor within his head, and he blocked out the innate chatter, lest he lose his place within his thoughts.

  “Adam!”

  The teacher’s forceful address shook him from the dream and he jumped at the sound. The room was dead silent, and as he looked around, Adam realized in terror that every eye in the room was on him.

  “Ah, thank you for joining us,” the teacher remarked. “Can you please join us at the front to demonstrate problem fourteen?”

  Adam became flushed as he got to his feet and retrieved the textbook that had been lying open on his desk before trudging to the board. He was behind and paged ahead until he found the section the class was currently demonstrating. He hadn’t seen it before and hadn’t done the homework which had been assigned the previous week. Stalling for time, he slowly copied over the geometric solid and its accompanying equation for volume on the board. Part of his mind immediately went to the negative: that he was unprepared and would now fumble in front of the class. There’d be a series of reprimands regarding his focus, embarrassment from his peers, and Lord knew what else.

  The other half, rather than delving into possible eventualities, focused on solving the problem as it was presented. He made his way through the short progression of equations, performing the arithmetic in his head as he went along, attempting to cover for his lack of preparation. Perspiration built in a thin line on Adam’s forehead as the detractor in his head reminded him that he took an extra step along the way and would certainly miss the solution.

  At the end, he stood before an uncomplicated answer that he easily reduced to a legible form. He turned back to face the class, sure that all eyes would be on him, ready to pounce on some unseen mistake. To his surprise, Adam found a half-dozen of his classmates still assessing their own answers down the board; his was the first one complete. The realization buoyed his confidence and he chanced a smile at the corners of his mouth.

  “Thank you, Adam. You may be seated,” his teacher instructed. “Very well done.”

  The period concluded without further incident and the bell soon rang, sending the mass of students through the doors to begin their weekend. Levi, one of Adam’s closest friends, waited for him at the door.

  “Way to pull that one out of your ass!” he exclaimed with a smirk. “I thought for sure you’d crash and burn.”

  “No kidding,” Adam replied. “Hopefully that’ll keep me in their good graces for a while.” He cinched the straps of his backpack tighter. “Luckily I got one of the easy ones.”

  “Speaking of which, what’s got you so scatterbrained?” Levi asked. “You’ve been more up in the clouds than usual.”

  “I’m just looking forward to the weekend. We’re making a run out to the Jacobs Science Center,” Adam said with a smile. “I can’t wait.”

  “Nerd,” Levi replied. “S
eriously, we’ve been trapped in here all week and you want to go to a damn museum.”

  The trek to the science center had turned into an annual pilgrimage for Adam’s family. It had been at his constant begging years ago, but his parents went along, and ever since they had tacitly, if not actively, indulged his fascination for all things related to the study of the natural world.

  “It’s not just some ‘museum.’ It’s one of the most advanced in the country!” Adam corrected as the pair rounded the corner to their bank of lockers. “They’ve got a documentary on the first batch of data returned from the Zeus probe! It’s the first attempt at visualizing the internal weather patterns of Jupiter.”

  Levi shook his head. “Like I said: Nerd.” He chuckled again. “Well don’t look at me to hold you back. Have fun and don’t invite me.”

  ***

  The rest of the evening, night, and early morning car ride that followed dragged on, until Adam found himself with his family at the doors of their destination. He passed the turnstile and sprinted for the central concourse, an expansive atrium constructed of beautifully maintained marble, glass, and brushed steel.

  At the center and overlooking the various catwalks and balconies was a towering globe that was illuminated on all sides by high-powered projectors, streaming a three-dimensional video onto its surface. Adam watched as the continental landmasses split and collided over the hundreds of millions of years of history, condensed at the present into barely a minute. He found the attention to detail fascinating, with the dozens of plates each adding their own tiny impact on the ultimate profile of their planet.

  The presentation completed and switched to a live satellite image showing the day’s weather patterns across the surface of the globe. From his vantage point, Adam caught a churning depression in the Caribbean, as well as a line of thunderstorms coursing their way across Midwestern America. He studied the exhibit a minute longer before continuing on to investigate the rest of what the Jacobs Center had to offer.