The Other Things

by Jonathan Dransfield

  Now he had a drum to bang: like him, anyone could be successful. He never considered that although anyone might be successful in the competitive market he loved, it was dependent on winners and losers. His media empire, the Pure Corporation, was built on the ethos of supporting the winners and damning the losers. It had been so successful that it was now branching into space by launching its own satellites.

  ‘Yes, I think you should watch Peggy Tyler – she’s got far to go.’

  ‘Oh my goodness, her!’ thought Luther. Victor was referring to the rising star of the opposition party. ‘From my point of view, perhaps the further the better!’ said the president, shaking Victor’s hand. ‘Always good to see you,’ he added disingenuously.

  Chapter 17

  Choosing the Astronauts

  Men Wanted

  Victor hadn’t anticipated the advent of social media when the phenomenon of Alumni had taken over the planet. What better medium to find the astronauts? There was a cohort of NASA’s finest as a core, but now the stage was a multinational mission, there were complications. Ingrid de Gaul had been showing Henrietta and Yasmin how the Europeans did it. In her smooth French accent she explained, ‘You know, the methodology always the same. Strict criteria to choose. Non-discrimination, there is equal chance for the women and the men. No, how you say, mention of age, or the disability. Completely fair.’

  ‘OK, how’d ya choose anybody, if ya can’t discriminate?’ quizzed Henrietta.

  ‘Ce n’est pas un problème. Two methods en application. In the north of Europe they use it to help them to make the rational judgements. In the south they make selection first and use it to justify their choice.’

  ‘So, as long as all the boxes are ticked, it’s all OK, then?’

  ‘Oui. Important! Advertising non-exclusive, all the world welcome.’

  ‘Mmm, we usually put the ad in The Astronaut’s Journal – not the widest of readerships. Hey! How about posting it on Alumni?’ Yasmin loved Alumni. ‘I saw a post we could base it on the other day.’ She searched on her phone.

  ‘The Times – 1913. “Men wanted for hazardous journey, small wages, bitter cold, long months of complete darkness, constant danger, safe return doubtful, honour and recognition in case of success. Ernest Shackleton.” It just about fits the bill! And they came back!’

  They put an edited version on Alumni next to a photo of Mars, changing the word ‘men’ to ‘crew’ and ending it with a list of skills. It went viral!

  The invitation went to the four corners of the world, including a small orphanage in Zimbabwe.

  Zulu saw it when Jane replied to one of his many emails, giving him a link to the page. ‘Try this’ was her comment. Bheki brought him the message. ‘Can we both go?’

  Zulu studied the missive. ‘Who’s going to pick us? We’re not Americans, we’re too young and don’t have any experience.’

  ‘Jeez, Zulu, it doesn’t say that. We got the skills on the list. Look, “engineers and botanists”. We design and make machines and we look after plants! We’re hands-on guys!’

  ‘But we’re kids, we’re not educated, we’re from Africa and you’re deaf!’

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t hear that!’

  Zulu made many hand gestures in Bheki’s face, some of them rude. ‘Ha, ha!’

  ‘Ach! We’re good, man. We’re politically correct!’

  Through the rain-streaked panes, Kirsten saw that the long Icelandic summer days were ebbing into depressing winter nights. ‘Another two months and it’ll be dark.’ She braced herself and considered the merits of crisp snow and the glimmer of the northern lights. No, she wasn’t looking forward to it at all. An email popped up on her screen, and she had a premonition that it might be interesting. ‘Uh, NASA…’ She clicked it. As she read it she realised that her trip to Italy hadn’t been in vain. Vow! Winter in LA, and a role in the biggest show on the planet. Ford had nominated her to plan the geological goals of the mission and the expedition training, and they’d pay for Elin to go too. Among the attachments were two application forms for the crew.

  Elin was kneeling in front of a little green shelf where she’d arranged the rocks she’d collected with her mother. She’d left a gap for a fragment of meteor. The country had been showered by them and she knew she’d find one soon. Her favourites were beautiful black obsidian samples. As she rearranged the rocks, she sang a little song:

  ‘Burn, set, be my rock of fire, a pebble for my heart’s desire,

  Lay me down on a river bed, a sandy stone for my head.’

  Opposite was her adventure kit: boots, backpack, waterproofs and Katla, her toy witch. The rain was clattering on the tin roof, so she didn’t hear her mother enter. Two busy-fingered hands tickled her in the ribs, and up went half of the contents of the shelf as she reacted. ‘Mummia, ekki!’ she shrieked.

  Her mother looked elated as she told her, ‘We’re going to Los Angeles. I’ve been offered a job and we can both go!’

  She knew all about LA from the TV. ‘Can we live in Bel Air?’ She did a little jig, bouncing on the bed and rapping to an unheard beat.

  ‘Now, all about how this is a story

  flipped-turned upside down my life got

  And a minute I’d like you to take,

  right there just sit,

  how I became the princessa of a town called Falleg Loft I’ll tell you.

  In north Iceland town born and raised…’

  Her mother hugged her and told her about the offer. Elin listened intently, then interrupted. ‘Look after Afi and Amma who’s going to?’ she asked, with a furrowed brow.

  ‘Don’t they look after you?’

  ‘Oh no,’ said Elin. ‘Round the house I help, jokes I tell and talk to Afi when Amma’s away. Besides nothing will they will have to do. Only left with the animals they will be.’

  She sensed her mother stifling a laugh. ‘Don’t worry, they’ll be OK. You can look after me instead. Also, they sent an astronaut application form!’

  Recalling Pompeii, Elin couldn’t restrain her excitement. ‘For me?’

  Kirsten laughed. ‘Well, they sent two… Now that would be the biggest adventure for us, a trip to Mars!’

  ‘The first princess of Mars, can I be! You can be queen. Bring Katla, can I? The red elves she wants to meet.’

  A warm breeze wafted through the vines as the family sat down to eat after the long lunchtime shift. Enza served the tortellini she had made with the lightest of pasta, wrapped round a pungent mushroom and garlic filling. The creamy balance of the cheese and asparagus sauce lifted their hearts and stomachs. Her father, distracted on his phone, jolted to attention as the dish was served. ‘I was just looking at this Alumni post. It’s Ford’s mission! Volunteers needed!’

  Elisabetta calmed him down. ‘Allora, amore, they’ll only want proper astronauts.’

  ‘Italians have always been the best explorers: Marco Polo, Columbus!’

  There was a small moment for grace before they ate. Not another word was said until her father gesticulated, waving his arms across the table. ‘If they’re going for two years they’ll need to eat properly. They need a chef!’ Elisabetta took the phone. ‘Look at the skills. We tick some of the boxes!’

  Enza beamed. ‘We are the perfect family, then!’

  Her mother looked at Enza. ‘Let’s work on the Temple of Mars tomorrow, and beg his blessing.’

  The Grand Canyon walls stretched high above the river as it wended its way through the cake-like strata. Russet and buff ochres, blue and grey skies, and a fringe of green lining the red water made a palette of this epic landscape. Alim scrutinised the sedimentary beds like the leaves of a mile-high encyclopedia. Counting the 40 major layers, he saw a snapshot of half the history of the Earth: from the rocks at their feet, laid down 2 billion years ago, when only single-celled organisms thrived, to a point high above them where the landscape met the sky, and a world full of exotic flora and fauna. Alim’s hand traced the layers to a spot about halfway up.
‘Can you see all these layers? In all that time, life only went from a sludge to bacteria, and then where the colour changes, it got interesting.

  The Grand Canyon

  Colorado, USA

  36.1N 112.4W

  Altitude: 2,600ft

  277 miles long

  Geology: River valley canyon

  ‘Three things changed everything: oxygen, sex and teeth!’

  He pointed to another change. ‘You get the development of complex organisms, like sponges and fungi and corals, until – whoosh! – the extraordinary last fifth, an explosion of evolution of all the life we have today.’

  Alim was going to show Mo the American West and this couldn’t be a more awe-inspiring place. He’d come here as a young man and been blown away by seeing a dynamic planet laying down its story, millennium upon millennium.

  ‘Is there a canyon like this on Mars, Baba?’

  ‘The Valles Marineris would dwarf this one – it’s five times longer and four times as deep. What a story that would tell!’ He shook his bag of tools. ‘It’s why we’re here. I want to find a layer where we’ll find something like that fossil from Mars, and then we’ll work out how it could have happened so early.’

  He parked his dusty bottom on a rock that contained the forgotten remnants of thousands of tiny life forms and carefully lit a cigarette, while lamenting his lack of fitness. ‘I’d love to go and see it myself, but you have to be “A1 fit”!’

  The Valles Marineris

  Mars

  13.9s 59.2W

  Altitude: 23,000ft deep

  2,500 miles long

  Geology: Largest canyon in the solar system

  Mo sat down, leaning on his father’s knees. He scrutinised the valley. ‘I’m fit! I’d be your eyes. You’ve taught me everything.’

  Alim replied with a snort, ‘You’re too young, my boy, and besides, it’s too dangerous!’

  Mo was having none of it. ‘I’ve seen the advert. It didn’t mention age, and it can’t be more dangerous than going to school. If you hadn’t turned up, I would have drowned with my class!’

  His father considered his point. ‘A stroke of luck, of course, and we’re also lucky to be on top of all this evolution, but unfortunately – like my fossils one day – we’ll be gone.’

  Alim reflected further on the matter. ‘You’re right! We should make the most of it, my boy! Let’s send off the damned applications!’

  He didn’t take it seriously. Does anyone ever expect to win the lottery? What Mo knew was that you can’t win without a ticket.

  They were almost out of the canyon when they stopped again. The river now looked like a tiny red ribbon. ‘Everything below us is simple life, where nothing had even ventured onto the land, and above us is diversity.’ Alim pointed to a line in the cliff just over their shoulders. ‘That’s where I want us to look, where we’d find our little fella if it lived on this planet.’

  They reached a narrow band of limestone that stretched like buried snow towards Las Vegas.

  Alim took out the tools but, before he could even start, Mo was chipping away. ‘There’s loads of them!’ He started to work carefully. ‘We’ve seen these before: they’re nautiloids.’

  Alim was pleased. The fossils were the right mix of shells and soft bodies, and proper animals, like a squid with a cone-shaped shell. He explained to Mo that if his role with NASA was to interpret the fossils found by the rover, he could only start with something similar on Earth. ‘What we have to work out is how it happened so quickly on Mars.’

  His son looked quizzically. ‘Or why so long on Earth?’ Mo suggested.

  ‘What do you think?’ questioned his father.

  ‘It’s just chance, innit? It’s like if I toss a coin loads and loads of times, at some point I’ll get a string of heads. If I do it a thousand times, like, I’ll maybe get ten in a row at some point. I’d be amazed if it happens straight off, but there’s no reason why not. If I did the lottery, why not one, two, three, four, five, six and bonus ball seven! Because it’s no different from any other set of numbers. It’s better, ’cause it reminds me it’s all just chance. Maybe Mars got lucky.’ For an instant he thought of the cold, barren planet today and added, ‘Then unlucky!’

  Alim smiled a benevolent smile. ‘Well, school may be dangerous, but at least they’re teaching you maths!’

  Behind them a buzzard wheeled its way across the sky, was picked up by a thermal and escaped into the wide blue yonder.

  Henrietta and Yasmin were really enjoying presenting their report to Ford and Stephen. Henrietta started. ‘We’ve had over a million hits on the advert, and half of them have filled in the questionnaire.’

  Yasmin took over with her typical enthusiasm. ‘Hey, there’s all sorts of people, not just astronauts. All ages, all sexes and from the four corners of the globe.’

  ‘There’d hardly be a million astronauts out there, and globes don’t have corners!’ Stephen said bluntly. ‘It’s too many – you’ll never sort out the time wasters. Even I filled out the questionnaire out of interest, but there’s no way I’d go.’

  Yasmin clapped her hands. ‘Oh, Stephen, we’d love to send you!’

  ‘Yeah, and I’d like to send my ex!’

  Henrietta explained that ESA had written them a program to use for elimination. ESA had embedded strict criteria within the questions, with each stage designed to reduce the pool of applicants by half. Then, opening a laptop, Henrietta started to run the program. There were 491,520 ‘applicants’. As the program rolled, the numbers diminished until, after the 12th stage, they were left with 240. ‘Much more manageable!’

  Ford was intrigued. ‘Well, I filled it out, just to test it. Am I still there?’

  Yasmin shuffled a bit. ‘Er, well, no. Neither is Stephen. You’re both needed here, so automatic veto! But we’re not just relying on social media. We have our cadre of astronauts, and several scientists we’re interested in. We are going to whittle it down to a squad of 12 and see how they perform.’

  Stephen picked up the laptop and started to scan the list of ‘weeded’ applicants. ‘Your algorithms are ridiculous. It’s a load of old men, women and kids!’

  Henrietta carefully took the computer from Stephen. ‘There’s no problem with the program. I’m afraid it’s going to be more like Lost in Space than Star Trek. We can’t take anyone between the ages of 15 and 40, because of the health risks. The astronauts will have to be light, with at least two core skills, and be an international mix.’

  Stephen waved a hand dismissively. ‘You can get rid of the kids for a start. Who’s going to sanction sending kids into space?’

  At this point Ford intervened. ‘Actually, the president! He’s given us the OK for their evaluation.’

  Henrietta had been altogether sceptical at first, but four issues had convinced her. Firstly, there were children out there who had the skills; secondly, children appeared to be less susceptible to the health issues than adults; thirdly, and most importantly, they were light, so a full crew could be sent.

  Stephen was finding this irritating. ‘You said four issues?’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ said Henrietta, ‘the fourth – we don’t have to make the decision, it’s down to the president.’

  Among the many names on the shortlist were candidates from Iceland, Italy, Zimbabwe, London and Baton Rouge.

  Chapter 18

  Testing Times

  G Machine

  The acrid smell of dust filled Zulu’s nostrils as he frantically swept the yard. He had been doing every job he could, hoping that, by showing his usefulness, it might persuade Mr Herman to give him a reprieve. He was a proud young man and was not prepared to beg for it.

  It felt like living on a knife edge. So when one of the youngsters shouted for him, he nearly jumped out of his skin. ‘Mr Herman wants to see you.’

  ‘OK, this is it!’ His mind ran over whether there was anything he could have done to change the outcome. On the way he dragged his feet. The red d
ust kicked up as he crossed the courtyard. The surrounding granite outcrops looked like sombre giants. He took a deep breath on the threshold of the office and thought, ‘I need to keep myself together.’ He pinched himself to break away from the anxiety.

  Knock, knock! The door was ajar and it gave way a little each time he rapped.

  ‘Come in, my boy,’ called Mr Herman. Zulu peeked round and his erstwhile father figure could not even face him. Mr Herman was standing, looking out of the grime-streaked panes. The poster on the wall of a far-eyed prophet quoted some comforting words. Zulu was glad he didn’t have to face his mentor; it would have been worse for both of them.

  ‘Do I have to go away, then?’ Zulu broke the silence, taking in the details of the office, with the realisation that it would soon become just a memory.

  ‘Yes,’ replied Mr Herman. ‘I was about to offer you a few more months, especially seeing you working so hard, but not now.’

  Poor Zulu felt like he’d been within an inch of salvation, only to have it taken away by some unseen hand. At that moment a small hand knocked behind him, and to his surprise Bheki came shuffling into the office. Now Mr Herman had to turn round. There was no point talking at the window where the boy couldn’t see his lips. Zulu was taken aback. Why was he smiling? He couldn’t be taking pleasure in this, surely?

  ‘Do sit down, both of you. Sit!’ The old clock ticked to fill the void and the older man scrutinised the fresh faces of the brothers. ‘You’ve always surprised me, ever since you washed up here like a couple of drowned rats. You can still pull an unexpected rock rabbit out of the hat.’