by Chad Josey
Joe stood, threw Gabriel’s hand off him, and pushed the notebook across the table until it hit the floor on the opposite side. “The results seem correct, but how in the hell can I believe the data is not made up?”
“I’m afraid all you have is faith in us.”
“Faith? Hell, the last person I saw talking about the end of the world and using the word faith held a Bible in front of our church.”
“You may not know me, but I know you, Joe… I know you very well. At this point, you must have faith in our program and me. You’ve got a great opportunity here to help ensure mankind continues to survive.”
“But, on Mars?”
“Yes, as I explained yesterday, based on all the simulations, Earth will no longer exist. The impact will immediately explode everything.”
Joe sat dumbfounded.
"Too much debris from the explosion will hit the Moon. So, we could not build Salvation there. We decided our closest, possible option is Mars.”
Gabriel gave Joe a red notebook he had held under his arm upon returning to the room.
“What’s this?”
“These are the plans and pictures of Salvation. We developed the plans based on our experiences on the Moon.”
Joe studied the pages inside the red notebook. “The modules… how did these get transported to Mars?” Images showed white, honeycomb structures connected across the red Martian landscape.
“Each module took nine months to build. We sent them from the Moon to Mars once completed.”
Joe lifted his head from the notebook delivering a piercing gaze to Gabriel. “From the Moon? These were built in the three years between ’69 and ’72?”
“No, the Public only knows about the Apollo Missions, which ended with Apollo 17 in December of '72. But, the Eden Foundation continued missions to the Moon as recent as 2005.”
Gabriel dragged the remaining metal chair across the floor to the table across from Joe. The metal etched along the floor.
“The missions continued? How can that be?”
“After Apollo proved it possible for Man to land on the Moon and return, we started Project Salvation. We continued missions from top-secret locations in the southern Indian Ocean.”
“But, why continue to go to the Moon?”
“We needed to establish a construction base on the Moon. The Salvation modules were constructed there and transported to Mars. It is easier and cheaper to lift off from the gravity of the Moon rather than from Earth.”
“How many missions occurred to the Moon after Apollo?”
“Between 1974 to 2005…” Gabriel paused reviewing the information in the notebook. "There were three missions each month. 1,116 missions in total.”
Joe stood from his chair and paced the room in disbelief. “One-thousand… holy shit. There had to have been an army of people on the Moon?”
“The missions sent the initial components of the living modules for Salvation. Also, along with the actual workers, equipment and supplies were sent. Our workers lived in modules like what you remember from the Eagle Module of Apollo.”
Joe scanned the pictures from the construction teams over the decades.
“During the ‘80s, that’s when crews of twenty workers left for a year at a time to build the modules. They took delivery of new materials three times per month.”
“Once the modules were built, when were they sent to Mars… I mean, when was the first mission to Mars?” Joe could not believe he had asked that question.
“With all the Moon missions, our project engineers modified the requirements to go to Mars. Eden started the planning during the early ‘70s, and the first Mars landing happened on March 13th, 1978.”
Joe sat back down in his chair almost missing his seat. “1978?” He ran his hands through his hair and pulled the binder closer.
“Yeah, 1978. It took time to change the systems used for the Moon flights to go to Mars. The flight takes longer to get there… there’s an atmosphere on Mars to consider.”
“How long does it take to travel to Mars?”
“That’s where we have had fantastic technical advances through the years. Mind you, it’s not like you’ve seen in the movies or anything. Missions which took six to nine months in the ‘70s and ‘80s… we now can get to Mars from Earth in three weeks.”
“Three weeks? How in the hell is that even possible?” Joe flipped the pages in the notebook.
“In our research of lasers to try and destroy CIE.57.20, we discovered a way to use them to propel our transport rockets. It’s a system we call photonic propulsion.”
“What? The movies had already taken the name hyper-warp speed from you?”
Gabriel responded with a fake laugh. “Basically, our rockets launch into space, like you have seen on TV. The module with the crew and materials onboard ejects from the rocket. We can land the rocket safely back down on its original launch pad.”
Joe’s focus never veered from Gabriel as he spoke. If Gabriel was making this up, the description he provided Joe ignited his childhood daydreams of rocket travel based on stories he had heard his grandma tell him about his grandpa, Eli.
“Once the module is in an orbit around Earth, a receptor shield, like what you would think of as a satellite dish, extends on the back of the module. From an orbiting satellite, we fire a laser to the receptor shield. Its force pushes it forward. The satellite continues to pulse the laser. With each pulse, the forward speed of the module increases exponentially because of zero gravity.”
Joe imagined the concept using rudimentary calculations in his mind. “And, Eden kept all these missions and landing on Mars a secret from the Public?”
“As you can imagine, with all the people working on Project Eden and Salvation over the years, we have had our challenges.”
“Challenges?”
“We put great efforts to control our staff and the information. But, sometimes leaks occur. We have gotten good at creating diversions in the public eye away from any leak.”
“Diversions? Like?”
“Joe, I don’t want to get into all that… but, I'll give you one example. I want to give you a sense of the Foundation’s capabilities and how powerful we are. It relates to our development of the photonic propulsion system.”
The tease from Gabriel intrigued Joe.
“To place satellites into orbit with laser-firing capabilities… do you remember in the ‘80s all the news stories about the Star Wars government projects?”
“You mean where Reagan planned to put laser, missile defense systems into orbit to protect the US from Soviet nuclear missiles?”
“Yeah… those are our satellites… our missiles to fire at CIE.57.20 and our lasers to propel our flights to Mars.”
Joe sat in silence.
“But, what about more recent news headlines about Mars… like the Curiosity Mission and other rover flights?”
“Yeah… this has been a tricky decision made by the Foundation. As best I can figure, sometimes the best way to stop rumors about something is to place something actually there in complete view for the Public."
“I don't follow?"
“This way, part of the truth is there for people to see. If other rumors surface about Salvation, we can use these rover missions to deflect them. Also, the Foundation does an excellent job making the Public believe anyone spreading rumors is a crazy, conspiracy theorist.”
Joe’s mind raced. Part of him believed every word Gabriel had said, fascinated by the science of it all. But, the critical part of him remained skeptical. It seemed too amazing to be true.
“So, to be clear… the Soviets were not the real reason for our race to the Moon in the ‘60s. There’s a construction base on the Moon. We’ve been going to Mars since 1978. And, you float half-truths to divert the Public. Is there anything else you’re not telling me?”
“Everything is in this notebook.”
“Are we still going to the Moon, now?”
“In 2005, all work stop
ped there because of the development of 3D printing capability.”
“3D printers? My friend, Charlie, used one of those to build crystalline lattice structures in his lab.”
“That technology enabled Salvation to stop sending building materials to the Moon for construction. Instead, the missions now go direct to Mars. We sent several, large 3D printers able to construct the modules physically on site.”
“The largest thing I’ve seen Charlie make was a foot-tall beer keg one day when he was playing around with it.”
“Our printers are a little larger… larger than a double-decker bus. They print single module walls, seven meters tall by seven meters wide. Now, the only missions to Mars take epoxy materials for the printers, supplies, and people.”
“Who in the hell agreed to live on the Moon and Mars to assemble them in the first place?”
“Joe, the exact details of the people selected are classified. That information usually is kept from me.”
Joe sat quietly for several minutes. Pages rattled as he flipped through both notebooks Gabriel had given him. The pictures confirmed everything Gabriel had said. Frustrated, Joe pushed them both away at the same time.
“Many people had to have been involved with this. Not to mention the cost of it all.”
“Yeah, the amount of money would amaze you. Let's just say through fear mongering and deception, the Public will fund anything. The ups-and-downs of Wall Street have been our best friends.”
“How in the hell have you kept this a secret for—”
Gabriel interrupted him. “Just like you, Project Salvation has identified those people critical to its success and recruited them. Construction workers, scientists, engineers, even politicians.”
“But, I don’t understand… how do you persuade someone to go to the Moon for a year or to Mars for the rest of their life?”
“We identify people who can fulfill our requirements. We watch and evaluate them. Then, the Foundation decides to recruit them to join us, or not.”
“But, what if they say no… what if I say no?”
With a cold, direct look, Gabriel said, “No is simply not an answer. Once we approach someone, then yes is the only acceptable answer.”
“Again… what if I say no?”
“That’s my job, to make you say yes. You will see what I’m telling you is real, and we need you for this program.”
“But, surely you have approached others, and they ultimately said no. What about those people?”
“Let’s just say we have forced no one to join us… we hold no one at gunpoint on the Moon or Mars. But, once we tell you about Project Salvation, we do everything possible to keep this classified and a secret.”
Gabriel stood from his chair and walked behind Joe placing his hands on Joe’s shoulders. His grip was firm and strong pressing into Joe. “And, Joe… I mean everything possible to keep this a secret.”
As he made this statement, the television screen illuminated with an image appearing. The image was fuzzy at first but came into focus. Joe sat shocked seeing Mary at their kitchen table eating dinner by herself in New York.
“What the hell is this?”
Gabriel felt Joe’s muscles tense under his grip. “Joe, we are approaching you and telling you about this, because we need you. Your work is the closest we have seen to actually creating cures for diseases such as cancer."
Gabriel’s words fell on deaf ears. Mary’s image caused Joe’s heart to pound through his chest.
“Mankind will need your work and continued research. It will help develop ways to fight current and potentially new diseases Project Salvation may face.”
“But, why the hell are you watching Mary right now?”
“Joe, as I said, we do not accept no as an answer in joining us. We will do everything possible to keep Project Salvation a secret.”
“What do you mean everything… if you hurt Mary, I will kill you, you bastard.” Joe attempted to stand from the chair, but Gabriel held him in place.
Gabriel released his grip on Joe as he continued to sit in front of Gabriel. “Nothing will happen to Mary or you. No will not be an answer, and you will join us.”
Joe approached a retreating Gabriel, who came to rest against the wall beside the television, standing nose-to-nose with Gabriel. Joe pierced Gabriel’s eyes with a menacing stare. “If you hurt her… I will kill you.”
Gabriel smiled and lifted his hands up to Joe’s shoulders. “Joe… nothing will happen. But, you will join us.”
Joe moved his gaze from Gabriel onto Mary on the screen. This gave Gabriel an opportunity to step to the side and bend down to pick up Joe’s notepad. He held it up between Joe and the screen. The black circled 2020 broke his stare.
“2020 is only five years away… this will happen… join us, and on 2020, you and Mary will continue to live… along with the rest of the chosen ones in Salvation.”
Joe took the notepad from him throwing it across the room onto the table. The pad landed and bounced into the air. Joe walked away and paced the room, circling the table and Gabriel like a shark circling a seal in the ocean.
Minutes had passed. “So, I cannot tell anyone about this, right?”
“Absolutely, no one can know… not even Mary. In fact, don’t even tell her about me or give her my name. When the time comes, you will tell her before you leave… I will help you with that.”
“I’m not sure I can promise that… we don’t keep secrets between us.”
“Mary must not know, Joe… full stop. We are telling you now because you need time to collect your research and identify the equipment you will need at Salvation.”
Joe continued circling the room. His chest heaved in-and-out. His forehead glistened from the overhead fluorescent lights.
“The Foundation will provide the needed equipment and make arrangements to send you and Mary to Salvation. From there, you will have a few years to request any additional equipment, supplies… whatever else you will need.”
Joe did not pay attention to his last comment. His thoughts remained with Mary. He noticed how sad she appeared sitting in the kitchen alone.
“But, I need to tell Mary… I can’t keep this to myself.”
“Let me say this again, in no uncertain terms. Joe, we will do everything to keep Salvation a secret… everything.”
February 20, 1960
Palomar Mountain Observatory, California
JACKSON WHEELER DROVE the ninety-minute drive from his seaside apartment in Carlsbad, California, to the Palomar Mountain Observatory. Countless switchbacks make the road treacherous through the mountain range, especially in winter.
But, Jackson did not mind. To him, the drive meant he was on his way to his favorite place in the world to look back into time, as he liked to think about it. As a child, Jackson had a fondness for astronomy. It amazed him that light from galaxies and planets within our universe takes thousands of years to reach Earth.
For the past four months, Jackson had operated the Samuel Oschin Telescope at Palomar, which uses a camera to view the night skies. He had extra motivation on tonight's trip. Jackson’s dream was coming true to view the heavens with the world’s largest, reflecting telescope, the Hale Telescope.
Going from a forty-eight-inch telescope to two-hundred inches is a significant difference. It is the same as driving the Palomar switchbacks in his 1957 Chevy Two-Ten Series pickup truck versus a candy-apple, red Corvette Convertible Stingray, his dream car.
Jackson pulled into the observatory’s parking lot and performed his usual routine before getting out of his truck. He kissed his right index and middle fingers placing them on the pregnant belly of his girlfriend’s picture tucked into the sun visor.
Jackson arrived as the sunset in the western sky over the mountaintops. Nighttime is the favorite time for any astronomer, and tonight was perfect. The weather forecast called for clear skies.
He rushed inside the observatory. On the desk beside the platform leading up to the
Hale Telescope, he placed his briefcase and lunch. Butterflies swirled in the pit of his stomach reminding him of his first date with his girlfriend.
“What is our target tonight?” Jackson asked the astronomer he was replacing.
“The next area on the schedule is Columba. The constellation is coming into good view, up from the Equator.”
“Columba?” Jackson asked with hesitation, “Columba is the most boring constellation to review. No bright stars. No meteor showers emanate from it.”
“Jackson, we don’t get to choose. Take it up with the boys up at Caltech. They send the assignments down,” the astronomer said collecting his things to go home.
Jackson reviewed the coordinate sheets from the desk and climbed up the platform. In front of him was a control panel, which operates the impressive telescope. He took a deep breath recalling his countless weeks of daytime training; Jackson was ready. His excitement grew even though Columba was not his first choice of Space to scan.
On the control console, he pressed the button labeled Shutter Doors. The sound of a motor reverberated through the empty observatory.
Large-heavy, white shutter doors opened from the top of the dome down along the side. The doors stopped as the black sky came into view. The crisp, cool winter air rushed inside encompassing Jackson.
Under the large telescope, Jackson flipped a small, black lever activating the analog computer. The control room vibrated. The telescope’s motor powered on, ready to receive its coordinates. The behemoth two-hundred-inch monster was ready to move.
He used the levers to position the telescope to the proper right ascension and declination coordinates. The building supporting the telescope moved to the right. Jackson checked the gauges reading out the hour angle of the telescope.
Once at the correct position, the rotation of the building stopped. The telescope was ready to scan the night sky through the constellation of Columba.
Jackson’s years of study and internship had finally paid off at this moment. This week would change his life forever.
February 25, 1960, 3:17 a.m.
Palomar Mountain Observatory, California
THE WEATHER HAD been perfect for Jackson every night for his first shift on the Hale Telescope. The skies over Palomar Mountain have been crystal clear.