The Orthogonal Galaxy

by Michael L. Lewis

  “How we gonna learn all this stuff ‘bout the airplane?” Blade asked after blowing on the soup in his spoon to cool it off. “We got tons to start memorizin’ tonight, and we ain’t even been to the classroom yet!”

  “Well, we begin by beginning now,” Paol said reaching in his shirt pocket for his iText Reader. Turning on the blue-white display he asked, “What does HMDS stand for?”

  “Uh… Head-mounted display system,” said Blade and then slurped down his soup with an approving nod of his head. “Mmm... good stuff.”

  “Close,” encouraged Paol. “It’s Helmet-mounted though.”

  “Well, the helmet mounts on the head, don’t it?”

  “Yes, but it’s the display that we’re talking about, and it mounts on the helmet.”

  “Ok, wise guy,” said Blade, pulling out his reader to continue the duel. “HOC!”

  “Hands… off Control. Right?”

  “Yeah, I started ya’ off light, so fer extra credit, can ya’ name the two types of HOC?”

  “Easy,” Paol said with a snicker indicating that his companion was taking it way too easy on him. “There’s gloved control, where the position and motions of the hands are calculated through glove-mounted motion control sensors. And there’s optical-sensing control, where image sensors continually scan the cockpit for visual detection of location and motion.”

  “Ok, since ya’ seem to have soaked up everythin’, what’s the pros and cons of the two systems.”

  “The gloved system can utilize finer motion controls. For example, to indicate a right roll maneuver to the aircraft, the right index finger makes one clockwise rotation. For a left roll, the right index finger makes a counter-clockwise rotation. You can use the same finger for both motions. However, with optical-sensing control, there is a chance that the optics will not be able to discern the direction of the roll, so the right index finger is used for right motion and the left index finger has to be used for a roll to the left.”

  “Nice job, Paol. Now, can ya’ tell me what the right middle finger is used fo’?”

  Paol hesitated and strained to remember. “Yeah, I remember talking about this one—give me a moment.” Rubbing his forehead and straining to remember, there was just so much that brain could absorb from the first day of instruction in the simulator room, and the teachers really did fire-hose them. Thinking out loud, he continued. “I’m sure they talked about the middle finger gesture. I just—just don’t remember.” He looked up at Blade for an answer. “You stumped me, Blade. What is the middle finger used for again?”

  Smiling in triumph for finally stumping his fellow astronaut, Blade stated matter-of-factly that “of course, when pointed up, the middle finger gesture is used to indicate someone’s vehement displeasure with another individual to whom the back of one’s hand is extended.”

  Paol chose the worst of all times to put a large bite of salad in his mouth, as he laughed involuntarily at the joke that was played on him, and the salad found its way back onto the plate. After wiping his mouth with his napkin, he turned towards Blade, doubled over in laughter. “If I were a less civil man, I would try the gesture on you to make sure I got it right.”

  “Hoo boy that was a good one,” Blade said as he struggled to regain his breath. “But, all kiddin’ aside, I think it should be used as a legitimate signal.”

  “Yeah? And why is that?” Paol said trying once again to consume his chicken salad.

  “Just think ‘bout it, Paol. If I’m caught in the crossfire, and my plane gets riddled with bullets, I’m gonna be in such a state of panic that I ain’t gonna remember no hand signals—except one. When I realize that I’m so totally screwed, I’ll extend both middle fingers to indicate my vehement displeasure with the bastard that gunned me down, and it will save my life, as I hear the pleasant cockpit voice say, ‘Thank you fo’ choosin’ to fly the XJ-20. Fo’ yer safety and protection, the vehicle will now eject yer seat into the atmosphere.’”

  Curiously, Paol poked at the display of his reader while Blade finished the joke. His smile was quickly replaced with an open-gaped mouth. “Unbelievable!”

  “What?” said Blade as he tried to peer in at Paol’s LCD display.

  “I just searched the XJ-20 manual for ‘middle finger’ and it came up with this: ‘Extend both middle fingers towards the top of the vehicle in order to open the canopy and complete seat-ejection sequencing.’ Looks like you’re not the first to think of that clever little usage of the ubiquitous hand signal.”

  Blade continued to chuckle while concluding the conversation with a final thought. “Great minds thinks alike!”

  “Ok,” Paol said steering the pair back on track. “We need to finish this lunch, and get back to business. What does MPS stand for?”

  “Main power system,” Blade fired back quickly. “When comin’ up from a cold start, the first step is to switch on the MPS.”

  “And then what?” Paol drilled.

  “Uh.... Put the ignition in standby... er... idle the throttle, and the OBC, or on-board computer, takes over fo’ the rest of ignition sequencing.”

  “You are a quick study, Blade Slater,” Paol approved with a bow of the head. “I’m glad to have you as my partner on this adventure.”

  Humbly, Blade deferred the recognition. “Ah, we got a long way to go, my friend. I suspect that we’ll be needin’ each other lots to get through this effort.”

  Noticing that time was limited, they finished their lunch quickly and quietly, each consumed in his own thoughts.

  During the afternoon, classroom instructors were impressed that both students were farther ahead of schedule than expected. Expectations were high for Paol, but nobody could’ve imagined that a high-school dropout and drug-dealing convict would already have a strong grasp of trigonometry and calculus. His math instructor attempted to stump him with question after question on differential equations, analytical geometry, infinite series, trigonometric equivalences. Blade was able to work through nearly everything, balking only occasionally for a quick prompt from the teacher. Paol was much more rusty, having been farther removed from some of the more abstract concepts. Blade seemed naturally geared towards the subject, however.

  Paol was quicker than his younger cohort in a chemistry overview, but both performed admirably in both static and dynamic physics. Blade, however, was much softer in the computer sciences. He had studied these topics, but had little opportunity for hands-on study or experimentation during his prison years. Paol understood this field through many years of experience.

  As the pair left the classroom at 4:15, they conversed lightly but felt the weight of the mission that lay ahead.

  “Boy, this reminds me of my college days,” Paol reminisced.

  “It’s a darn shame I didn’t apply myself and go on to college. Learnin’ is so exhilaratin’. If I only knew then…”

  “But here’s your second chance,” affirmed Paol with a smile and slap on the back.

  “This time’ll be different, fo’ sure. This time, I’ll take the bull by the balls.”

  Paol gave a start at the imagery invoked by this adage. “I don’t think you want to do that, Buddy.”

  “Why not?”

  “I think you want to take the bull by the horns.”

  “Nah… from what I hear, everybody takes the bull by the horns… I’m takin’ it one step farther.” Blade laughed jovially and enjoyed his newly coined saying. Paol appreciated his partner’s optimism.

  “Anyway,” Paol redirected the conversation. “Looks like we survived the first day, Blade ‘ol buddy.”

  “Not yet, we ain’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Tons of books to hit tonight, and Kai ordered me back to the gym too.”

  Shaking his head in understanding, Paol replied, “I’m starting to wonder whether we’re more likely to die during the mission or before the mission.”

  …

  The embrace was powerful and emotional. Tears fell freely on ea
ch shoulder and even the three bystanders were moved to emotion. Closest to Paol Joonter and his wife were their two teenage sons, ages 12 and 16. Paol looked at them through blurry eyes, trying to imagine what they would make of their lives while he was gone. By the time he returned from his mission, they would be in their 30s.

  Blade Slater stood farther off, in the corner of the room. His lips were tightly pursed, and his eyes glistened with tears, which had not yet rolled down his cheeks. His emotion was one of joy seeing his dear friend reunited with his family after the long months apart. But it was also filled with the emptiness of not having a family to call his own. While his mother visited him a few times shortly after he had been sentenced to the U.S. Penitentiary in Atlanta, her visits became farther apart, until finally he lost all contact with her. His uncle visited a couple of times as well, but they weren’t encouraging to Blade. Instead, they were just reminders of how he had failed and missed the opportunity that his uncle had offered him. How could he have been so stupid? His thoughts were broken as he heard his name.

  “Blade!” It was Paol. “I’d like you to meet my family.” With his arm wrapped tightly around his wife’s waist, he introduced Blade to each of family member, and Blade graciously received his sons with a warm hand shake, but his wife refused Blade’s hands, preferring instead to throw her arms around him and kiss him on the cheek.

  “Thank you, Blade,” said Joyera with red and swollen eyes. “I was made aware from my husband’s letters that when I couldn’t be there for him—you always were. It meant so much to me that Paol had been placed in the great company of a decent and good man.”

  There was no sound of sobs from Blade, but the tears which had previously been contained now flowed freely down his face. “I’m so glad to meet you all. Paol’s told me all ‘bout each of ya’.”

  After brief cordialities and deepened introductions, Blade excused himself. He was glad to meet Paol’s family, but he also knew that Paol needed time alone with them.

  “I’ll just head be headin’ back, then,” Blade stated awkwardly. “You all have so much to catch up on.”

  “Are you sure you won’t at least come have dinner with us?” Joyera asked imploringly. Blade felt like family to her, through the descriptive closeness to which she had grown by reading each of her husband’s letters from prison.

  “Ah, no, Ma’am. Thank ya’ kindly, but Kai—that’s my personal trainer—has given me strict instructions to be in the gym every evenin’.”

  “Well, Blade, it is a pleasure to meet you. We’ll be seeing you soon.”

  Paol waved his family ahead of him, and as they left the visitor’s lounge at Johnson, he confronted his friend. “You gonna be ok, Blade?”

  “Just fine,” Blade assured him. “So much to study anyways. And I got some sleep to catch up on this weekend too.”

  “Ok, buddy,” Paol was still hesitant to leave Blade, but he knew he had to spend as much as time as possible catching up with his family. “I’ll see you Sunday evening. You have my cell phone if you need anything in the meantime.”

  Blade nodded and waved Paol on with the back of his hand imploring him to catch up with his family in the parking lot. As he walked back to his room, an odd feeling came over him—a feeling like maybe he did have a family after all. At least there was a group of people who he felt had his best interest and concern at heart, and that was enough for Blade. His pace to his dorm room quickened, and his resolve to succeed on the mission was strengthened.

  After dinner, Paol and Joyera left the boys in the hotel room watching a movie, while they drove to a nearby park, and enjoyed a fresh summer evening listening to the ducks splashing in the center pond which reflected the antique gaslights of the park. While spending a significant amount of time simply holding each other and considering the misfortunes that came into their lives over the last year, they also discussed matters of vast importance to the family.

  “Joy, Dear,” Paol whispered after kissing his wife on the cheek. “Do you think I made the right decision? I agreed to the opportunity without consulting you, simply because I knew that I would have plenty of time to change my mind before heading out into space.”

  “I think you said it exactly, right, Love.” Joyera spoke in a soft yet reassuring voice. “There are still six years that you will at least be away from prison. In the meantime, we will be able to see each other on the weekends.”

  “But you and the boys won’t be able to come every weekend to visit, you know.”

  Joyera sat up on the park bench and looked intently at her husband. “The boys and I have discussed this, and we agree that we need to move to Houston to be closer to you.”

  While Paol had wondered about this option himself, he didn’t think it was a realistic scenario. “But Dear, we have such solid roots in Seattle. And the boys will leave all of their friends and activities behind.”

  “There will be friends and activities here, too. We just realize that there won’t be a father—and husband—in Seattle. The boys will each be out on their own by the time the mission is underway, and then I would be left alone in Seattle.”

  “But your family—”

  “You are my family.” She reached up and grabbed Paol’s head in her hands to make sure that he looked into her eyes. She was always a determined woman, and Paol could tell that her resolve in this matter was stronger than ever.

  “Besides, Warron will clear your name within the next six years, and then you will be a free man.”

  “And if he doesn’t?” Paol spoke antagonistically.

  “Then all the more reason to move here, so we can at least have the next six years with you. And all the better for you, because that would be six less years in prison. The way I see it, the worst case scenario is that you remain here in your astronaut training program for the next several years. The best case is that at some point your name is cleared, and then if we choose to, we can return to Seattle. Either way, you made the right decision in getting out of that prison, Paol.”

  Paol stood up and took a few steps towards the pond with his back to his wife. After some thought, he turned back to his wife. “Honey, I have to decide now whether I am committed to this or not. It is all or nothing.”

  She shook her head. “I… I don’t understand. You wouldn’t go through with the mission, would you? I mean... you’re just waiting out your freedom here instead of in prison.”

  “If Warron does clear my name, I still have to go through with the mission. I can’t just leave Blade to go back into the pen. I can’t abandon him.”

  In disbelief, Joyera took a moment to process this unthinkable piece of data and responded, “So, you would choose him over me? I don’t understand, Paol.”

  “Joy, he has become like a brother to me. He saved me from hell in that prison. His attitude, humor, and intellect insulated me from pure torment. I to think of what it would have been like had I been cellmates with the ‘Strangler’ or with Rall McHerd—a violent man I had only heard about, but nevertheless suffered through a number of nightmares because of.”

  With a snort of disdain, Joyera now stood on her feet and turned her back on her husband. As she felt his hands on her shoulders, her closed eyes released a tear down her cheek. “Joyera, you know I love you. Please don’t be mad with me. Try to put yourself in my shoes. If Warron is able to obtain my freedom, I have to make a choice between returning by your side as we both want to, but I would have to do so at the cost of my integrity to Blade. I would have to send him back to prison. It is not an easy decision, but I think you can respect the fact that there is a good man—a decent friend—a brother—who I cannot stab in the back. I can’t use him as a stepping stone to escape prison on parole and then ask him to go back there once I am freed.”

  “But, they’ll find somebody else to work with Blade.”

  “No, Darling. They are extremely desperate for astronauts. You have to know how desperate they are by digging up a pair of maximum security criminals to do the job. T
hey are really rolling the dice on us. If I am freed, and I quit the mission, the entire effort is in jeopardy. Blade will return to prison, millions of taxpaying dollars will have been squandered, and the hopes and dreams of the world will come to naught.”

  She now turned to face him. “Oh, so that’s what this is about? Becoming a hero to the world? Gaining immortality in the history books? Paol, you probably won’t even return—everybody is saying that this mission is suicidal.”

  “No, no. Honey,” Paol sighed as he saw the discussion heading in the wrong direction entirely. “First, you’re allowing the media to convince you of that. They want the public to think it is suicidal, because it creates drama and excitement, and that’s what the media needs to sell their lousy services. Further—I don’t care about being a hero. I just want to sleep at night knowing I did the right thing, and sending Blade Slater back to prison would be crushing to me—if not to him. If you tell me that you would rather me go back and wait for Warron to find the smoking gun in prison, then I need to do it now, before this goes too far.”

  Tears flowed more freely now from Joyera’s eyes. “Paol, what do you want me to say? If I say yes to the mission, I’ll lose you for twelve years at least and maybe forever if anything goes wrong in the vast distances of travel that you’ll be assuming.”

  “If you say no, then you may only be able to enjoy seeing me through a thick glass window for the rest of our lives.”

  “At least I’ll have hope of seeing you freed.”

  “Will you? Do you think you’ll still have hope in ten or fifteen years from now? The trail to any evidence will have cooled too much to ever hope for. But I do see one thing—”

  “What’s that?” She looked into his eyes that were now moistened with emotion.

  “This isn’t an easy decision for either of us. Should I go back to prison and hope that something will happen soon? Or should I go on with the mission, and not know for another 20 years whether we will be able to enjoy together what remains of our lives.”

  Joyera began laughing nervously. “Do you know what is wrong with us women?”