by John Read
“Thanks,” Marie said.
There was a pop-hiss and the helmets released their grip. Marie reached for her face and lifted the helmet from her head. It dangled in space, connected via a tether to a port behind her back. Marie reached for her face, fingers surveying her mouth and nose; they felt strange, as if they weren’t quite connected to her head. She tried to feel her eyes, but something blocked her hand, and she realized she was wearing glasses of some sort.
Marie pulled them off with both hands, hands that were suddenly covered in a thin black mesh. She second guessed herself; a moment earlier, hadn’t she been wearing white gloves?
Looking around, she realized several things had changed, though many things stayed the same. Her helmet floated nearby, just as it had, and she was still surrounded by people. Marie looked at the glasses, recognizing the design as augmented reality eyewear.
Something else was missing; the crèches were gone! The passengers around her were fixed directly to the spacecraft by beams that fit snugly into the small of their back.
She looked left; the window was gone. She looked to her right, to where Diana had been moments earlier. There was a body, dressed in black from head to toe. The figure removed the fishbowl helmet. The figure’s head was covered by a mesh hood, like a criminal about to commit a robbery. The figure reached up, removing the mesh. It wasn’t Diana, but a man with greying hair.
“Diana?” Marie called, reaching under her chin and pulling off the mesh that covered her own face.
“Over here,” Diana replied. Diana was situated above, and slightly to the left of Marie. The older woman twisted in place, curly brown hair swirling in zero gravity.
All around the room, people were removing their helmets. Everyone wore the mesh suits, like scuba divers in wetsuits without the tanks or flippers. Marie still felt as if she were seated and strapped in, but glancing down, she realized her crèche was gone. The suit itself must be providing the feedback, she reasoned, being familiar with full body VR suits, but never having tried one herself.
A loud metallic screech emanated from the core of the vessel, as though two ships had collided at sea. Marie’s body was yanked backward, like a marionette on a swing. Air whistled between the scaffolding. The crowd ahead of Marie moved up and away, yielding a view of the other people in the compartment, and she watched as they spread out in all directions.
“Inflation in progress,” said the ship.
The vessel’s skeletal structure expanded in a growing sphere. Blue and beige canvas unfolded, forming walls, and rooms. Mood lighting illuminated the canvas in a multitude of colors. As the interior structure spread out, so did everyone attached to it. The spacecraft’s interior suddenly looked like a Hoberman sphere, a child’s toy that began as a small ball, but could be pulled into a large one.
“What’s going on?” Marie asked, as her distance increased from those to her left and right.
“We’re in a Bigelow module,” Diana said, from several meters away. “The habitat is inflating.”
The inflation continued for several minutes, slowing as the ship completed its transformation from the size of a nuclear submarine, to a marshmallow the size of a city block. With the transformation complete, the whistling ceased.
A woman floated in the distance, arching between the scaffolding. A long black ponytail flowed behind her as she pushed off one beam and grasped another. She wore the same VR scuba suit as everyone else, but without the apparatus in the small of her back, the docking port where the suit would connect with the ship.
The flying lady stopped, floating in place. She pulled in her arms and spun around, inspecting the multitudes of people staring in her direction. It was Hoshi.
Hoshi held a small electronic device, placing it over her ear. “Hello citizens,” she said. Her voice echoed as if they were in a large auditorium. “Welcome aboard the Mount Everest. I’d like to thank our fine crew for the successful launch.”
Hoshi paused for an applause that never came. “Please thank the AR team for providing everyone with a window seat. You’re probably wondering why we experienced the launch with augmented reality. This was a historic moment, and everyone deserved a view.”
Hoshi pushed off again, darting around the spaceship, twisting around columns, and waving at various folks as if they were longtime friends, or if this were the opening act of a circus where she was the lone acrobat. She stopped in the very center of the module, holding onto a beam with her right hand.
“Our voyage to the Jovian system will take three hundred and forty days. Our vessel, the Mount Everest, is the largest in World Mineral Corp.’s fleet. But with twenty-five hundred people on board, it will begin to feel very small, very fast. For this reason, we’ll live and work in virtual reality.”
“In these suits for a year?” Marie said, getting Diana’s attention.
“Don’t worry, it’ll be okay,” Diana whispered across the gap.
People all over the ship began shouting questions. Hoshi put a finger to her ear as if she were receiving a message. She nodded, to no one in particular, and then said. “Activate Cali.”
Marie yelled, “When can I see my son?”
Hoshi removed her finger from the earpiece. “Pull on your hood, put your glasses back on, and all your questions will be answered.” It was an order, but one directed at Marie.
Marie didn’t want to put on her glasses; she wanted to escape, strangle Hoshi, and find Branson. But, since that probably wasn’t going to happen, she resolved to learn what she could, like everyone else. The hood floated at the extent of its tether. She grabbed the mesh, which felt metallic in her hand, and pulled it over her head. Imperceptible to her sense of touch, the hood touched every inch of her face, with slits for her mouth, eyes and nose.
Marie put on the glasses, and materialized inside a great hall with a stage large enough for a symphony orchestra. Octagonal plates hung from the ceiling like lily pads in an upside-down pond, and colorful tapestries draped the walls. All around her, inanimate bodies came to life,
The seats were red and soft, and Marie could feel fabric under bare legs. She looked down at her body. She wore comfortable shorts and a white blouse, and blue shoes. Fresh air circulated, and the room had a scent, like old fabric. She was seated several rows up, and four seats in from the center aisle. The seat granted a relatively central view of the stage. Pricey seats, had she been a paying customer.
A projection behind the stage read “WELCOME TO SPACE” in large letters and a video, with the caption “LIVE”, displayed a spaceship rocketing away from a distant, cloud covered Earth.
Marie studied the spacecraft on the screen. It wasn’t entirely dissimilar to ones she’d seen before. The spacecraft’s modules were stacked like rounded toy blocks. Next to each module, facts and figures appeared in boxes. The inflatable habitat or ‘marshmallow’ was white, accented with blue ridges. At 200 by 150 meters, the marshmallow composed over half the spacecraft’s volume. On its side, the name Victoria was painted in large blue letters.
The marshmallow rested atop a cargo module containing one hundred and thirty-six million kilograms of food. Beneath the cargo module, a service module housed the oxygen tanks, a water recycling unit, and fuel cells. Flanking the service module were two solar arrays, each a perfect circle extending from the spacecraft like a flattened umbrella. Trailing the service module were the fuel tanks and engines.
The video zoomed out, revealing two other ships in the convoy, coasting in loose formation. Marie determined the video emanated from her spaceship, Mount Everest. She studied the hulls of the other ships, one named Klondike, and the other, Melbourne.
Hoshi approached a podium in the center of the stage, holding up a hand to quiet the audience.
A list entitled “FAQ” appeared on the screen. Marie noted the irony: there was nothing ‘Frequent’ about this. Hoshi began answering the questions as if they were asked by the passengers.
“When can we see our children?” Hoshi
said, reading the first line. A video of the ship’s nursery appeared on the screen. The children sat in form fitting crèches, each with five point harnesses. Colorfully dressed women unbuckled the kids and placed them on a multi-textured matted floor. When each child was removed from their seat, the crèche slid up into a compartment in the wall. There were cubbies in the room. One of the women opened them, retrieving a collection of toys and books which she handed out to the kids. Marie saw Branson’s Washington Capitals’ eagle sitting in one of the cubbies.
Marie studied the screen, looking for Branson, and then realized something. The floor? she thought. Gravity? The nursery was in one of several trams that circled the interior wall of the habitation module. The trams made their way around the cylinder approximately once per minute, simulating the gravity of their destination, Callisto.
Marie spotted Branson, tugging on a teacher’s apron. The teacher reached into the cubby, and handed Branson his eagle. Marie realized she’d been holding her breath, and released the air with a sigh.
After giving folks a moment to study the video, Hoshi said, “Citizens will be allowed to visit their children in the nursery, but I’d warn you, the transition from weightlessness to gravity will be nauseating at first, so please, take your time. Early childhood development programs will run during regular business hours. A viewing area will also be available here in VR.”
“If I have friends on the Martian Colony can I contact them?” was the next question.
Hoshi passed the question onto Malcom, who stood up in the corner of the auditorium. Malcom’s avatar wore a green collared shirt, as if he’d just returned from a game of golf.
Someone passed him a microphone. “Yes, we’ll try contacting the colonies. There are radios accessible from VR, and ones on the ship you can use during your shift. However, we’re currently limiting long range radio communication until we’re away from the Earth-moon system. We’re theorizing that the Communist Alliance is jamming communication from Mars and other space outposts.”
There was a commotion, but no direct questions. Malcom passed the microphone back, and took his seat.
A woman yelled from the back of the room, “When will we connect with the other ships?”
“Ah,” said Hoshi with a smile. “Now that is a fascinating question.” Hoshi paused, soaking in the dead silence from the giant room before speaking. “This theater is one hundred seats across and one hundred seats deep. Do the math.”
“Oh my god,” Marie said, looking around at the room full of people. She turned to the person on her right. “Were you in the Chinese Hive?” she said, touching a young man gently on the shoulder.
“No, ma’am,” he said, “I was in South Africa,”
Everyone began talking to the people around them, asking where they were from, how they’d escaped, and what ship they were on.
“As you’ve probably just discovered,” Hoshi said, her voice loud enough to quiet the room, “all ten thousand citizens are here, right now, in this room.”
There was another commotion, as people began introducing themselves.
Hoshi waited until the din began to settle. “This metaverse follows the Schrödinger rule. For those not familiar with the Schrödinger rule, it was named after physicist Erwin Schrödinger’s famous cat in the box, a thought experiment where a cat in a box is both dead and alive until you open the box. Nothing, including people, pop in or out of existence while anyone is watching. The virtual experience will be as real as you make it. The claustrophobic days of space travel’s past, are over.”
Hoshi stepped down from the stage and ascended the center aisle. “Follow me,” she said. “You’re going to like what you see.”
People began filing into the aisles, many taking their first steps in Virtual Reality. Marie stood, not wanting to hold up her row. They followed Hoshi to the exit where she opened the doors in the back of the room, and sunlight streamed in. The crowd poured outside into a pavilion.
Marie passed the threshold, entering a world so breathtakingly real, that all hostility towards her perception of virtual reality faded in an instant. Birds circled in rising currents, chirping as if it were a spring day. Pigeons rested on concrete horses rising from circular fountains. Spanish architecture surrounded them on all sides, while cobblestone streets wound through storefronts shaded by colorful awnings.
In the distance, wind swept across green fields, creating colorful illusions in the grass. A lake reflected the sky and a distant hill. Birds circled on invisible breezes under a clear blue sky.
Hoshi climbed onto the fountain, grabbing a concrete horse by copper reins. She raised her other hand into the air, waiting until she had everyone’s attention. Her voice rang through invisible speakers, and her message was clearly heard.
“Welcome to Cali.” She paused. “This virtual world is a near-perfect representation of our final destination, Callisto.”
8
I waited for Avro, Amelia, and Kevin in the Panel Distribution Centre. As so often when not fully occupied, my mind filled with longing for Marie and Branson. I closed my eyes, and saw them laughing. Nostalgia’s illusion favored pleasant memories; any sadness erased by the sands of time. Every day, I did something in their honor, a laugh or deed dedicated to their memory. Today would be no different.
I was jarred from my memories by the arrival of Avro, Amelia and Kevin. Two memorial stones rested on our machine shop table.
They knew what I’d asked them here to do.
We prepped the suits for a very special EVA. This was the last time we’d ever walk on Martian soil. Avro zipped up Amelia’s spacesuit, giving her a thumbs-up before working on his own. Kevin checked the comms.
With green light illuminating our pressure regulators, we stepped into the airlock and sealed the door.
I held the flowers gathered from the gardens near the cenotaph, the bouquet of mostly black-eyed Susan and daises. Marie would have been pleased with the selection. The floral scent lingered inside my helmet. When the door rolled open to the Martian atmosphere, the bouquet froze, as if dipped in liquid nitrogen. There was a strange pleasure in knowing the flowers would hold their beauty for quite some time.
Over a kilometer from the colony, Avro parked our jeep at the crest of a hill. We collected rocks and made two piles, as though covering bodies. I’d seen this in an old western movie once, and it seemed appropriate to do now, for my missing wife and son.
As the sun set over the distant horizon, a colorful array stretched to the zenith: blue, purple, orange and gold. Shadows embraced the distant colony like a mother bear protecting her young.
Kevin knelt, running Martian soil through a gloved hand. Amelia wrapped her arm through mine and rested her helmet against my shoulder. Avro reached down, picking up a stray rock, setting it on the smaller pile.
I’m usually not one for talking at funerals. But my grief had reached its limit, giving my mouth the freedom to say what needed to be said.
I knelt at the foot of Marie’s grave, resting a hand on the nearest rock. “We were married in the fall, under a gazebo in Arlington, Virginia. There was a breeze and fallen leaves circled around your dress. You laughed. You loved fall, and the leaves tangled in your veil didn’t bother you. I lifted the veil, and kissed you, knowing in that moment, I had just made the best decision of my life.”
Moving over to Branson’s pyre, I knelt again. “I sold my airplane seven months before you were born. Up until that then, that was the saddest day of my life. When I held you and you cried, I knew it was worth it. I swore to never again place value in an object. We’re here for such a short time. God, such a short, short time. If there’s one thing we should value above all else, it’s the people we love. Life is short, so don’t waste it.”
I removed a Washington Capitals’ ball cap from my satchel, placing it on Branson’s pile, and then removed my Velcro Orville badge and placed it on Marie’s. I stood back, and read the tombstones for a final time.
Marie Orvil
le
2040-2071
Loving wife and Mother
O'er the rivers of your life,
joy and passion flowed
the most powerful.
Branson Orville
2069-2071
Son of Marie and John
Laughter was your pastime.
We'll laugh together,
When I see you again.
We walked silently back to the jeep as the sun dipped below the horizon, bathing our silhouettes in darkness. Phobos and Deimos glided overhead and a small blue planet, Earth, shone brightly on the ecliptic. I studied the planet for a moment, and suddenly I wanted to go home.
Avro and Amelia looked at each other and nodded. They were ready to go home, too. Amelia leaned over and gave me a hug.
The next day we took an auto-car to the spaceport. Leeth and his fiancé, Maranda, met us to say good-bye. We trudged through the terminal, wheeled suitcases trailing behind us as if we were a family headed for an Alaskan holiday.
“Sexy,” Avro said, eyeing the corporate spacecraft from behind tempered glass.
“You know, not only does constant acceleration get you there faster, but the one-ninety-ninth gravity experienced on board has a non-zero effect on the body’s vestibular system.”
“Kevin, English,” Amelia said as she pulled her suitcase up to the gate.
“It decreases nausea,” I translated.
Maranda used a keycard on the pressure barrier leading to the jet way.
I gave Leeth a hug and slapped him on the back. “Until we meet again.” The others exchanged hugs with Leeth and Maranda.
As I walked down to the waiting rocket, Leeth yelled, “Hey!” and tossed me something.
I caught it. It was his flask, full or rum, and I rapped the kangaroo hide. I nodded thanks, and entered the spaceship.
We settled into leather chairs for takeoff and Avro slipped into a suede AR crèche that served as the cockpit.