The Other Things

by Jonathan Dransfield

  Baton Rouge

  Louisiana, USA

  30.3N 91.8W

  Altitude: 56ft

  Geology: Prairie surfaces and alluvial deposits; first bluff of Mississippi river

  It was Mom’s date night with ‘The Boyf’. He’d liked The Boyf (Anthony) at first. He was funny, if a bit of a bum. However, he was now getting far too exclusive in his visits. Buzz loved his mom, but she drove him mad with her wild flights of delusion and disorder. Certainty was Buzz’s craving in life. Tonight he was certain of one thing: they would play music until late, make strange noises, then The Boyf would slip away before dawn. Buzz had had enough disruption in his nine short years. It wasn’t until he was four that his mother had contacted Ford and Jane to ask for help. During the brief relationship with Ford’s son Armstrong, she had asked him about his unusual name and he had just said, ‘My dad works for NASA!’

  With that snippet Buzz’s mother had tracked Ford down and the first email changed everything. Buzz learned two things: life could be different, and there was another world out there. That other world was Ford and Jane’s ranch. He called them ‘Granf’ and ‘Granj’.

  Buzz lay on his bed and listened to the noises of the city. Above the drone of the traffic, he heard a plane taking off. Living close to the airport, he was constantly aware of its ebb and flow. It was a regular commuter plane, a 737 most likely. He listened to the next arrivals, then, picking up his trusty binoculars, he eased open the window to the sultry evening, climbed out and skipped to the nearest bush. He skirted the clutter in their yard and made it to the fence without being noticed. The wilderness beyond was his adventure park. At this time of the year the trees were bare enough for him to get a view of the airport. He chose his favourite tree by the chapel and climbed.

  The top of the tree was his space station, his cockpit and escape. His mom had caught him there once and threatened blue murder if he didn’t come down. The Boyf foolishly tried to get him.

  That time The Boyf actually pursued him up the tree. He was within an inch of grabbing Buzz’s ankle when – crack! – gravity did the rest. Down he slipped, grasping at branch after branch, before crashing to earth in a heap. The Boyf hollered with pain. The commotion brought the members of the congregation spilling out and gathering around.

  Gravity

  The gravity on earth is 9.8m/s2

  On Mars: 3.7m/s2

  On the moon:

  1.6m/s2

  Unfortunately Bud, his workmate, was in the crowd. While Buzz’s mom ran to get her phone, the friend pushed to the front. ‘Don’t worry, Ant, she’s gone to call the medics. They’ll soon sort you out.’ Buzz overheard the hushed reply: ‘More likely my wife will. I said I’m on the night shift!’

  Buzz knew then he was not just a bum, but a cheating bum!

  Below the child in the swaying tree was boring old Fairchild Street with single-storey shacks and modern bungalows like his own. They had previously lived in one of those shacks until Ford came to the rescue. Buzz’s mom said they were royalty because they didn’t live in a trailer and she didn’t do the garden or household chores.

  Swaying in the bare canopy, he could look out over the city and the airport where Granf would arrive and whisk him off in the ‘old crate’. Dusk had settled as he watched the green and red lights of another small aircraft during take-off. He turned and gazed over the city lights and the abrupt outline of the banks of the mighty Mississippi. The same green and red lights tracked the waters, defining the boats as they worked their way along the river.

  When he and Mom had moved from the shack, Buzz finally got his own room. Granf had given him two brass bedside lights. Red for port and green for starboard, they had transformed the mattress into an imaginary craft of air, water or even space.

  He suddenly heard his mom’s voice. ‘Buzz, what the hell are you doing up there?’

  ‘Flip!’ he thought. He had left it too long. He then heard The Boyf’s imperative tones: ‘Get down here, you little dirtbag!’

  His mother turned on Anthony. ‘Shhh… remember the last time?’

  ‘Phony! Cheat!’ shouted Buzz.

  His mom shrieked, ‘Come down! You’re supposed to be at home!’

  ‘So is he!’ Buzz screamed.

  The Boyf shuffled in his sneakers, uneasy with the drift of the conversation.

  ‘Perhaps he could join us for supper, after all?’ he suggested lamely.

  Buzz could not resist and ‘dirtbag’ slid down as gracefully as a falling leaf, desperate to be included again.

  Ford Finishing the Trailer

  Ford had got up early, determined to set to on ‘The Trailer’. This was no ordinary trailer. It was fashioned from the mangled remains of two crashed campers found at the local scrapyard. He had promised Jane he would finish the hulk, which had cluttered up the yard for months, and soon he had the wheels on and the pop-top fixed and working. With a little trouble he fixed the newly painted doors and there it was – not just a trailer, but a mini-caravan.

  Jane came out into the yard. ‘If it was that easy, why didn’t you finish it last year, then?’

  He just smiled and said, ‘If it wasn’t for “the last minute”, nothing would ever happen!’

  Jane sceptically cleared her throat. ‘By the way, Maria called. She wants us to take Buzz a week early,’ said Jane. ‘She sounded pretty dodgy.’

  ‘We can’t. We’re going to Italy.’

  ‘Let’s take him. He’ll be good company for me while you’re in the hall. Bella Italia, he’ll love it!’

  Ford looked very worried. ‘Do you think Maria was going bonkers again?’

  Jane gave a solemn nod.

  That evening Ford cooked for Jane. One of her gifts to Ford was showing him the simple joy of preparing food – natural ingredients and following your instincts.

  Jane had brought much more than wholesome food to their lives; she had brought life after death.

  They had met in a hotel restaurant, where she was brimming with the success of her first book being accepted. Ford was feeling crushed. He had never felt so alone. It had been five years since his wife Rebecca died. Her death, the devastation it had wreaked on Armstrong, and Ford’s stalled career had left him feeling like he was rolling down an endless hill. He didn’t know it, but that evening he was going to reach the valley.

  It was a boutique hotel, all dark colours and overelaborate table settings. Ford sat at his small table and fumbled with the overgenerous tablecloth as he tucked in his napkin.

  Jane was also sitting alone, but in a much happier state of mind, enjoying the luxury of people-watching. After checking out the gregarious family opposite, then the tetchy couple to her right, she spotted Ford. There was a hint of a wounded animal about him as he struggled with his thoughts and napkin. His vulnerability held her gaze. Ford had taken little joy in the steak on a slate and jam jar salad, and decided to retire.

  As he stood up and left, he felt a tug on his belt, followed by a tinkling and crashing as slate, glasses, flower vase and red wine bottle were all yanked to the floor by the tablecloth tucked into his trousers.

  He just stood there, looking ridiculous. He turned his face to the dark ceiling as if imploring a greater being to give him a break.

  Jane could not help herself – she was on the move. She whisked Ford away by the arm. ‘Don’t worry about that lot and come with me.’ She sat him down in a quiet corner of the bar and, using a napkin, sponged his chinos as best she could. She looked up and, stifling her mirth, said, ‘Look at you. What a bloody state!’

  That was it, their introduction – at last, a silver lining to the dark clouds.

  That night at Ford’s the crockery stayed on the table and, with the food eaten, they settled down by the fire in the living room, sipping a sweet digestif.

  ‘Is it going to be all right, cariad?’ She hoped for Ford’s sake it would work out. After all, he had fixed ‘the trailer’.

  Ford took a deep breath. ‘There are iss
ues I can’t see how to resolve, but that’s what’s interesting. I hate the politics – what with Stephen and the press – it feels too… I don’t know… negative.’

  Jane was positive. ‘Well, it would be political. It’s being sponsored by a politician! Remember, he’s the same one who’s taken you on because you are different. What’s your motivation in this?’ They stared at the flames as he thought.

  ‘To do something profound,’ Ford finally replied in a reflective tone of voice. ‘I feel like a mason who has spent his life just building houses, and I want to build something beautiful, something significant.’

  ‘Like a cathedral?’ Jane filled in.

  He slowly nodded his head. ‘Yes, that’s it. It has to be extraordinary.’

  Jane sipped her drink before answering, ‘Well, it would be if you found life! Tell me about the Angel.’

  He turned the question around. ‘No, you’re the biologist. Could it be a trick of the light, a chance illusion?’

  He summoned up an image on his iPad. Jane started to review it with analytical scrutiny.

  ‘Well, it’s got a face for a start. The body is symmetrical and has a detailed structure, which would be a challenge for a random rock shape. The dead giveaway is the broken wing to the top left. That’s no accident. And if it is life, it’s quite advanced.

  ‘Just remember, there’s nothing scientific about this – it’s just my observation. However, I would say this: it hasn’t just curled up and died. That other wing shows it was not alone. I’d like to think there was a shoal or a flight of them and… Maybe they’ve just been caught up in a catastrophe. Poor little darlings!’

  ‘Anything else?’ asked Ford encouragingly.

  Jane lay back on the cushions and put her right arm over his shoulder. ‘If it really was an animal, it would have an ecosystem. There would be many other plants and animals to be found. That shell-like thing on the other slide is just as important. Looking at it, I guess it lived in water. The wings certainly are for moving in a fluid.’

  Fossil 2

  ‘Thanks, that’s fascinating.’

  ‘I’m not finished!’ Jane held up her left index finger. ‘I don’t think it’s worth going to Mars to find more of these. I’m convinced already.

  ‘What’s really worth doing is finding its great-great-great- etc. grandchildren. They must have been wonderfully adaptive, progressing so far in such a short time compared with Earth. I only see a fraction of my ants’ lives, because they’re underground most of the time. If I were to go to Mars, I’d look for a nice, deep, warm hole. Have you ever been down a coal mine? It gets very warm very quickly!’

  Pavonis Mons

  Tharsis, Mars

  1.48N 247.0E

  234 miles wide, 8.7 miles high

  Geology: Shield volcano

  On the generous mantelpiece there stood three globes: one of the Earth, one of the moon and one of Mars. They were a gift set she had given Ford for their first Christmas. She walked over to the fireplace. Picking up the Martian globe, she gave it a whirl. She counted dozens of ancient volcanoes on its pockmarked surface and explained to Ford that although they might be inactive, they would be the best places to look for those warm spaces. ‘Just make sure your geologist knows their volcanoes!’

  Pavonis Mons

  Chapter 9

  Jane Steps In

  Old Illustration of Mars

  Ford shuddered as he thought of his crazy week ahead. Off to the JPL, then hooking up with Rocky and Yasmin. They were calling in to see Milton ‘the rocket man’ at the Samsonian.

  He was freaking out over the Italian conference. ‘I know we’ve booked the tickets, but hell, I’m just not prepared for it. I’ll let everyone down.’

  Jane put her foot down. She wanted this trip to Italy badly and especially now Buzz was coming too.

  ‘Look, you can’t put all your eggs in the one basket. This is a big deal as well. It’s packed full of people who you’ll need if this thing is to get off the ground.’

  He explained it wasn’t the timescale; he just had no time to do the paper. It was the 10th international conference on planetary exploration and he was to speak on potential ecosystems on other planets and moons.

  ‘OK then, cariad, I’ll write your paper!’ said Jane. ‘I’m a biologist, after all.’ She’d had a revelation, looking at the globe of Mars. It was a real place, and not that different from their own planet.

  Ford considered it. He knew Jane’s scientific abilities, and a different take on it could be very interesting.

  ‘OK, why not? It will be more entertaining than my drivel!’

  ‘Brilliant!’ thought Jane. She shot up, swept up the Earth globe from the mantelpiece and vanished outside. The globe had contours not only of the land, but also the ocean beds – the planet laid bare, with its deep-sea mountains, ridges and tectonic plates made visible. With the smell of pear drops wafting around her, she returned, hiding the globe behind her. With a flourish she placed a new ‘red planet’ on the table, with Ford’s car-body primer still gleaming freshly on its surface. It was uncanny. It had been transformed into an alien world, which she placed beside the smaller globe of Mars. The difference was extraordinary! Without the distraction of land and sea the very nature of the planets’ skins stood out.

  Mars, all hard-shelled and volcanic, looked immutable and ancient, while the Earth was a patchwork of zipped plates, deep trenches, plains and mountain ridges, a surface constantly renewed and weathered. Ford was less impressed. ‘Mmm, I kinda liked my globe as it was!’ But he got the point.

  That afternoon, after Ford had left, Jane hunted out her old PhD thesis. The thick, bound pages represented years of research. She remembered the long hours of writing and the field trips to wet and humid deep caves for her research.

  Jane thought of her innocence and youthful enthusiasm at that time. Her subject was an extraordinary ant species, white and blind because it had lived entirely underground for over 100 million years. The question she had put was not how it had survived, but for how much longer it could carry on. Her conclusion: the ants had lived through at least one major extinction event without batting an antenna, so there was no reason why they shouldn’t be there in another 100 million years. If she could publish a PhD on such an extreme animal, there was no reason why she couldn’t tackle this subject now.

  She studied the small globe of Mars as if mentally peeling it like an orange. Needing a tea break a little later, she was livid to discover the trailer was still sitting in the yard. It was now late afternoon and the roosting birds circled overhead.

  The finished article was a weird yet beautiful thing. Her curiosity took hold and she tentatively went outside and opened the doors, which revealed a beautifully crafted interior. There was a range of birch plywood cupboards, with a bright table that folded down between the seats. This table covered an alcove holding within it a hob next to a small ceramic sink. On either side were shelves, containing wicker hampers for cutlery, crockery and provisions. The double-banked seats were covered in the same William Morris patterned fabric from Jane’s childhood home. The whole effect, with the oaken boat-like joinery, proper ship’s brass fittings and the deep colours of the Strawberry Thief fabric, was simply gorgeous. On the seat among the cushions was an envelope with Jane’s name. She carefully peeled it open to reveal a card. On the front was a simple heart and, turning it over, she read, ‘For us, my sweet. XXXX’.

  She had thought the trailer was a ‘man den’ for Ford. Now she knew it was for them both and she was touched by the little thoughtful details that surrounded her. Through the rear window she could clearly see the red disc of the setting sun dropping through the blues, oranges and greys of the sky. She went back and returned with the two globes, setting them up on the back shelf. She pictured the history of the solar system in her mind.

  The two planets had started out in the same swirling void of stellar debris, forming, sweeping and fermenting as they grew and grew. With less mater
ial to gather, Mars never reached the size of Earth or Venus, but had settled down to a stable state earlier. The Earth had had a catastrophic youth. As Jane had seen whenever Ford was packing a bag, a small element of chaos could lead to interesting results. Two planets formed near the Earth’s orbit and, like squabbling siblings, were too close to share the space happily.

  What a sight it would have been, the two still-glowing planets edging ever closer year by year, until one eventful evening a white-hot burst of energy lit up the solar system as they collided and combined into a dazzling mass. This catastrophic event set back the formation of planet Earth by aeons. The lighter shell of the smaller planet was spun into orbit around the central heaving mass, creating the moon, and the heavier elements and iron cores combined to fuse with the Earth’s. This chain of events was incredibly fortunate because, like a gyroscope, the moon’s gravity stabilised the Earth’s axis, giving its inhabitants regular seasons. The momentum of the collision gave enough impetus to keep the planet spinning once every twenty-four hours, unlike Venus or Mercury, whose days have slowed to a sun-baked standstill. The gift of a massive spinning iron core provided the magnetic field that protects the Earth from solar radiation. In all, it created an ideal environment for life to grow and develop into the special sentient beings humans are today.

  Jane looked at the two globes again. Start with the simple things. ‘The bloody obvious!’ Mars has impact craters, but nothing like the intensely pockmarked surfaces of the moon or Mercury. The Earth has no obvious ones. The mountains and ocean trenches on Earth show an active surface in the process of continual renewal, wiping clean the slate of its early history. Mars has scars and stress lines on its surface, so there must have been some movement of its crust. The biggest difference is the number of volcanoes on Mars. These appear to have erased many of the early scars it would have suffered. The volcanoes on Mars are massive, because without the moving tectonic plates, they could just grow in the same place. Both planets have icy poles and a tilted axis, giving them both seasons and days that are around twenty-four hours long.