by Thomas Zman
I was about to join the others in silent prayer when from the sides, behind the alter, there came a small processional: a tall man dressed in green robes and two attendants garbed in white. April had said the sermons here kept no particular schedule (or denomination for that matter).
“God bless all,” said the Reverent in a strong voice, arms raised in praise upon reaching the podium. “I welcome you, the faithful as we await the New Kingdom. Our city, along with the others around the globe, prepare for the Great Tribulation that is to come – that has already begun. Leave us not be tempted; keep thy conscious clean through deed and prayer. We must work our salt and love our brethren, for at hand is the city of God. Let us stay worthy so that we may see all the world’s beauty by the light of day. For as we know, enlightenment lurks not in the shadows of the night . . . “
The Grand Tour
“ . . . Its funny,” Kris was telling me, ‘the whole trip was one surprise after another. It took twice as long to get back here as I had anticipated. First I went off, thinking it would be a regular tour of our solar system. Then I met a wonderful woman onboard named Joy. We got to know each other, became very friendly, and all of a sudden we got married.”
“Married?” I repeated, unbelievingly.
“Steve, she’s a dream. They even rerouted the voyage so that we could honeymoon on a planet called Rhapvaria. You should see it, absolutely a wonder! We stayed on its blue sand beaches, lounging, playing, and swimming beneath double suns. Then we traveled across this Mundovian ice-range by way of these huge, thick furred pack animals called ‘drifters’, and lodged up in the Voluum mountains where we skied, snowboarded, and tubed all day. There were these fabulous hot springs there, too -- Salt baths none-the-less. Freezing cold air, nice warm water. The suite we stayed in was an old-fashioned log cabin, oak, inlaid with juniper and magnolia. What a smell! Great big fireplace -- fur bed. And let me tell you about the natives . . . “
“Sounds too good to be true! I’m very happy for you both. When do I get to meet her?”
“Well, right now she’s back at earth base seven fixing up our new apartment. I just came back here to pick-up a few things and tell all my friends the good news. I leave on the flight after yours.”
“Oh? Maybe I’ll stop in for a visit if we land at EB Seven. As of yet I don’t know where this trip is taking me.”
“How is Frank?” Kris asked earnestly.
“Good. Very, good. He and Constance Vanguard are engaged. You know, busy making wedding arrangements. I’m to be the best man when I get back.”
“I’ve been thinking of Frank being about ready to settle down,” Kris mused.
“How about you?” He asked. “Anyone catch your fancy?”
I spotted April across the way, through the usual bustle of crews’ personnel tending the Solar Port. Presently we were inside the Mega-dome; myself waiting to board an Interplanetary Saucer. Kris and I continued to talk as we stood aside, out of the way of everything that took place around the landing pad, atop the Solar Port. Kris seemed to have changed, matured since we had last met. How long ago that was I again could not say. For here it seemed days, weeks had melded into a timespan that stretched only a few waking periods -- but had to have been much greater than that.
April climbed the short stairway of the Solar Port, up to the landing pad. She quickly hugged me, pressing her self into me, not wanting to let go. She hadn’t realized I was talking with a friend.
“April, I think you may remember Kris. The two of you must have met somewhere along the ways.”
She relaxed her grip of me to look at Kris.
“Could it have been at the arcade way back when?” Kris suggested.
“Oh, that would have been such a long time ago. Probably when I first came to Neuphobes,” April replied, blushing slightly.
“You can’t tell me you’re leaving this fine woman behind to go prancing about the universe?” Kris commented.
I grimaced; April glowed cordially.
“Hey,” Kris realized. “I had better be going. I don’t want to be intruding on your ‘goodbyes’.”
April and I said our parting words to Kris, then returned to ourselves.
April continued to hug me, looking at me with unsettled eyes. “Sorry I’m late but I stopped off to pick you up a little something.”
She handed me a small giftwrapped box.
“It’s for you to open when you’re onboard ship,” she said affectionately.
I felt bad for I had nothing to give her in return. The thought of getting her a gift had totally avoided me.
“I hope you like it. Just a little something from Constance’s shop.”
“Thank you,” I uttered as I regarded the small package. “If only you could fit in here, then I could take you along with me.”
She smiled, nuzzling her face into my chest.
“I guess you know I’ll be gone for quite a while.”
April nodded, gripping me tighter.
“I remember Kris when I first met him,” I said, attempting to draw a parallel as to April and my parting. “He was a little more than twenty years old. And seeing him now, he still looks to be the same age -- physically, but he’s matured a great deal. We’ve all grown older since he’s been away.” I don’t know what I was trying to say; though continued:
“When I come back from this trip I’ll be more broadened -- wizened, I hope. And you, too -- more in your ways. We’ll be more prudent in our thinking and have a more mature prospective on matters. I don’t mean this to sound cruel but time will test our relationship. Season it. Let us realize what we really mean to each other. I don’t mean this to sound like a proposal but when I come back things will work out for us.”
“I know it will,” she said calmly, holding back her tears; somehow understanding what I had just fumbled through.
“I can almost put myself in your place.” April spoke. “You’re still adjusting. -- As I am. But I just know that we make each other very happy when we’re together.” She squeezed me tight. “I’m going to miss you so much.”
“I’ll miss you, too.” We kissed.
“Transport now boarding.” The intercom bellowed. “All passengers are to scan their badges at the boarding stairwell.”
We said our final goodbyes. Kissed long and hard, stifling each other’s impassioned sorrow. We kissed, softly again and again, and our embrace weakened, our arms slowly slipped from one another’s. It was so sad letting go.
“I love you,” she whispered, her lips forming the words I longed for her to say.
I smiled and said them, too.
All those gathered on the platform said their tearful goodbyes and the passengers started the boarding process. I could hear the names of each as they stepped up to the monitor, scanned their badge; the steward matching their name against a list on her tablet. I stood in line, stoically shuffling forward until: “Coleman” sounded the computer voice. The steward matched my name and said, “On board, please.” I looked back to April and waved. She was crying.
I ascended the short stairway and stepped up into the saucer where a gold-dressed ensign immediately greeted me. “Welcome aboard,” said the tall, stately man. His face was slender, stern, with narrowed eyebrows that arched from a nervous tic. “Ensign Kurt,” he stiffened and yielded me a salute; the Sanctification insignia prominent on his sleeve.
I returned the gesture.
“ Any questions are to be addressed to either myself or one of my staff.” He gestured me forward. “Please find comfort inside.”
He turned to welcome the next passengers.
I walked through the bulkhead and found myself standing amidst the company of several disoriented voyagers; obvious victims of the Ensign’s hurried efficiency. The lot of them hadn’t the slightest inkling as to the ship’s interior -- save for myself; the hold, where I had done service several times -- nor was I amongst one with nerve enough to raise inquiry into the situation. We stood apathetically and regarded
the expansive room’s nothingness: a metallic chamber, semi-circular, measuring roughly fifty feet in length by twenty wide. There were two doors at the center of it. Although no one spoke, a silent conversation seemed to flow, reproaching the Ensign’s dereliction of duty.
“Perhaps we should go through one of those doors.” I took it upon myself to guide them, indicating my suggestion with a nod.
“Oh, yes,” Ensign Kurt agreed, disdainfully, while looking back to us. “Right through either of them and the lift will take you up.”
He returned his attention to yet another newcomer – A NIM had scurried aboard.
I led our group into one of the elevators and passed my hand across a sensor. We were up in no time. The doors opened onto an expansive viewing deck, several hundred feet across, the size of the ship’s breadth. It was transparent all around as we exited the lifts from center deck; the vast Mega-Dome lay open before us, brightly lit with its entirety of splendor! Everyone gathered over at the windows to adore the magnificence. I searched the ebbing crowds amidst the Solar Port for April, but found her not. She must have already left the Dome at the request of the supervisors’, who saw to it that all unnecessary personnel quickly vacated. No matter, shields were closing across the windows and a strange current filling the deck. I then noticed rows of seats rising up from out of the floor in the center, near the lifts; they locked in place, fabricating what appeared to be a passenger cabin. “Please be seated,” came a soothing feminine voice from over the intercom, and everyone did so.
There were no belts to secure me, only the plushness of the seat, which contoured comfortably to my body and bound me by some intangible force.
A rather large man, well rounded with a handsome beard, seated himself next to me. I looked at him and gave a friendly, “Hello.”
“Picking up on my good nature, he politely returned the greeting and started to talk:
“Ahhh, another journey,” the plump man, sighed. “You know, this is my seventh – or is it my eighth. No matter. I’m kind of getting used to them, chasing all over the universe and whatnot.”
“Oh?” I encouraged conversation. “Why so many? I thought if a man were to get one or two voyages he was lucky. But eight?”
“They need people like me to counter-weight the ship,” he joked, smoothing his hands over his large stomach.
We both laughed.
“No, not really,” he said seriously. “Actually a number of my colleagues and I are chosen on a rotating basis to serve as tour guides through the cosmos. Perhaps you’ve heard of us, ‘The Astro Club’.”
I nodded in false agreement.
“We enjoy these trips and they give us a chance to share our thoughts with others as they, too discover the heavens. Perhaps you’d like to join? An excellent chance to broaden your horizons’. So to speak.” He chuckled.
“Interesting,” I commented. Of course I would never join his organization, but would soon find him to be a very amicable person; for from his mouth would pour enchanting procurements of planetary praise.
“How bout yourself, travel much?” he asked.
“No. This is my first time – on a saucer that is. I used to be a pilot for the Air Force,” I said proudly. “Lieutenant Steve Coleman.” I extended my hand. “Glad to meet you.”
“Burl. Just call me Burl.”
We shook.
“Well, Steve a saucer is quite different from that of a jet; extraordinary, one might say. Though I’m sure your one up on the queasiness. I mind you; the weightlessness can be temporarily unsettling to the innards. Even though the electro-magnetized floor and seats hold you firm, it still takes some getting used to before the real delights of the voyage can be enjoyed.”
“Preparing for departure.” The soothing intercom informed us.
The ship hummed. Incandescence radiated faintly from behind the shielded windows and I felt the saucer leave its moorings. I envisioned the Solar Port ablaze with brilliance as the mammoth saucer rose up steadily through the tunnel, driven by some far-advanced ionic propulsion system.
“Wee hee, aa hhaa! Here we go!” the large man beside me bellowed; same such similar reactions echoed throughout the cabin. “I just love takeoffs,” he elaborated. “Once again freed from earth’s grip; rising up through parted waters, cleaved by an energy the likes of which I will never comprehend.
“Man has struggled years, dreamed of freeing spacecraft from earth’s gravity without conventional propulsion methods. Thousands of scientists are needed to launch a rocket into space and return it safely. The Phoebian realm of technology is so advanced it simplifies the aero physic intricacies of nature, so as that a saucer can slip into or out of earth’s atmosphere, or for that matter hydrosphere, without effort. Phoebian physics deals with all states of matter as a single continuum in the time/space paradigm. A far cry from what our sciences can now theorize.”
“Burl,” Ensign Kurt summoned unexpectantly from behind us. “Your presence is requested on the bridge.” My newfound friend rose unsteadily – an obvious effect from the ship’s ascension.
“Would you like to join me?” the jovial man asked, though I wasn’t sure to whom.
“Perhaps I’ll find my way there later.” I politely refused his offer. “I’d like to look at something given to me before I left.” I then realized he had spoken to someone next to him.
“I understand.” he smiled, and looked to his side. “There’s no too great a distance the tether of love cannot span.”
When Burl left he gave me view of the young woman who had been sitting beside him. She smiled over at me.
I shirked from embarrassment.
Fumbling through my pocket I retrieved then opened the small package that April had given me. It was a thumb-sized ornament that would attach to my clothes. On the piece, a woman, swathed in a white gown, stood atop a hill, her arms outstretched towards the heavens. I passed my fingers over the surface and an inscription appeared:
The light that guides me
Shines eternal from above
The glow that charms me
Is instilled by your love
I thought about the words: It is true that we are all, somehow divinely guided by the heavens. But am I worthy of being mentioned in a poem with God? To be given credence for April’s tenderness, her affection? What about April – I became cynical. How well do I really know her? Surely she could have chosen this poem to complement her personality . . . No – no that’s absurd . . . (Overthinking again). I felt touched by her gift and placed the pin upon my chest.
I glanced over to the woman who had smiled at me, her silence intriguing. She was reading a familiar conveyance, undoubtedly acquired via some future publication. Her mind pondered the work of a literary unknown; philosophies inspired by periods of seclusion, the author’s mind seeing clearly life’s true paths.
I thought for a moment, attempting to tune her in; but she was absorbed in her reading and relinquished me no mind. It was then that I found myself in a situation that beguiled every man at one time or another: Do I really want to get married?
I gazed upon the fair woman again. Her long hair, neatly braided in front, highlighting her sensual face. Her nails were finely manicured; her slender fingers (no wedding band visible) seeming to motion me nearer as she swiped upon her reading tablet. The grip of lust pulled at me.
“Excuse me,” I asked of her.
She looked up from her reading; my heart quickened.
Suddenly I was, stricken; enlightened by proverb: ‘Live for the good and be thee more humble; meek as thou art destined to be.’
“Could you please tell me how to get to the bridge?”
The bridge was one level up. There was a separate lift for it, as directed me by the fair woman. I found the weightlessness of the saucer’s ascension through the atmosphere buoyanced me considerably –comparable to the negative g’s of flight from my earlier days. The lift’s doors opened and I, along with several other passengers, stepped – or perhaps I s
hould say, shuffled – onto the bridge.
It was no different from the observation deck except that there was only one seat located in the center of it: a cubicide flight chair mounted on a low base; the Phoebian seated in it, his frail body absorbed by the chair’s dimensions, his arms and hands resting on the fine contours of it, looked to be incorporated into the vessel on which we journeyed. He stared straight ahead through the transparent walls -- his eyes affixed to some focal point galaxies away. Technology had reached its pinnacle: simplicity.
There were a few people milling about the deck – no doubt awaiting tour-guide Burl’s entranced narrative of the world below, which we apparently had slipped into orbit around.
“Ahh,” he sighed. “The Cerulean Pearl: Mother Earth!” He gestured an arc with his arms as if presenting, for the first time, the world to those who had gathered. “Swirling white clouds the blue; the veil of night brings heavenly views. Beauty deep as the mountains’ high; warm as an artic summer’s sky. Placidness abounds while violence brews; warning -- nature changes serenities’ moods. Mother Earth, all God’s glory is bestowed; beyond its oceans is man now forced to go . . . “
We all marveled at the world below (as well as Burl’s farewell to it). Earth slowly turned; her changing pressures and temperatures sending weather froths swirling on undestined courses. An archipelago off some indeterminable shore looked to be no more than stepping stones strewn across a pond: ‘a footbridge for the gods, I thought. My perspective of the clouded, upside-down world was geographically mystifying; that is, it left me awed as I searched for familiar lands.
We slipped away from the earth at an unimaginable rate of speed, escaping its last pull of gravity, launching us into the infinite vacuum of space. I felt voided – as I’m sure others did – when the remaining weight my mass had to offer, left me. I was lightheaded, nauseous. My feet were firmly set on the floor, but I could not help feeling that the rest of my body was oozing out from inside.