The Calculating Stars

by Mary Robinette Kowal

  THIRTY

  34 WOMEN TOOK ASTRONAUT TESTS

  KANSAS CITY, KS, May 16, 1957—(AP)—Thirty-four women were chosen to undergo a preliminary testing program to be Lunar Astronauts. All 34 are airplane pilots and their ages range from 23 to 38. These beauties range from blond to brunette and are among the best feminine specimens on the planet.

  By day four, there were just twenty-one of us left. Betty and Nicole were still in the running, as was Sabiha. Sometimes we were in the same testing room, other times it was a solo ordeal like the inner ear test.

  After I endured the joys of having a metal cup pressed against my eyeball to test for glaucoma, I walked into an interview room. Stetson Parker sat at a table, flanked on one side by Benkoski and the other by Director Clemons.

  “Bloody hell.” Clemons threw his pen down on the table. “We don’t really need to interview her, do we?”

  Thank God I was already sweaty from the treadmill earlier, because it masked the cold sweat that broke out of every pore. “I know that I’ve tried your patience, but—”

  Clemons waved his hand and I stopped talking out of habit. He picked up his pen again and aimed it at me. “You misunderstand. We are supposed to see if the candidates have the drive an astronaut needs. That is hardly a question with you.”

  “Oh.” I looked back at the door. “Should I … should I send in the next person?”

  “No…” Parker leaned back in his chair. “I think we should do this right, so no one can accuse us of favoritism later. Why don’t you sit down, Mrs. York, and tell us why you want to be an astronaut.”

  Favoritism. Ha. But I sat down in the chair facing the men and rested my hands on my knees with my ankles crossed, the way Mama had taught me. Don’t ask me why I wanted to sit like a lady when I was wearing rumpled pants and a sweat-dampened shirt. It might just have been the only armor I owned.

  For once, I was glad for all the interviews that I had done, because this was a question that I had answered over and again. “Why do I want to be an astronaut? Because I believe that women have a necessary role in establishing colonies on other planets. If we have—”

  “I’m not interested in your speeches.” Parker sat upright with a thump. “If I wanted those, I could read a magazine.”

  “Colonel Parker!” Clemons glared at him. “This is not how we treat candidates.”

  “We all know why she thinks women should go into space.” He turned to face me again. “I want to know why you, specifically you, want to be an astronaut. And why you want to do that now, at this stage of the program.”

  I stared at him. I didn’t have an answer. Or at least not one that I could articulate. I just wanted to, in the same way I wanted to fly. I discarded the truth—which was that I didn’t really know—and instead reached for answers like the ones that I’d seen the astronauts give in interviews. “I feel that it’s my duty to—”

  “To serve your country … That’s the answer someone gives to the press corps.” Parker shook his head. Neither of the other two men stepped in this time.

  All three men stared at me, waiting.

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. If I could talk to Congress or appear on national television, I could answer these men. “I don’t remember a time when flying wasn’t a part of my life. My father was a pilot. I used to beg him to do barrel rolls when I was little because I loved the way the earth spread out below us and gravity didn’t seem to matter…”

  I opened my eyes, but still stared at the polished linoleum floors as I felt my way through my answer. “Space seems … I’m a pilot, you know? Space seems … necessary. Or inevitable. Or…” I spread my hands, struggling to find words I was willing to say to them about how I yearned to go there. “Maybe it was all the science-fiction novels and comic books my dad gave me, but the idea of not going into space seems more impossible than anything else. Even if the Earth weren’t damaged, I’d still want to go.”

  Benkoski gave a little grunt, his pencil scratching on a form. Clemons had his arms crossed over his chest and his lips pursed as if he were holding a cigar.

  And Parker was nodding.

  God help me, the man who had said he would keep me grounded was nodding as if he understood. Then he shrugged and picked a notebook off the table. “What’s the reliability data on the Atlas booster?”

  “Um…” The sudden shift in topic left me a little startled. “Fewer than nine out of ten Atlas launches were successful. That’s why we moved to the Jupiter design.”

  Clemons kept his arms crossed over his chest while Benkoski jotted down my response.

  “What are the advantages of pressure carburetors over float carburetors?”

  “Pressure carburetors are less likely to exhibit carb icing, which can initially lead to the engine running more rich, but will eventually restrict the airflow and cause a complete blockage. And they provide a stable fuel-air ratio under negative-G conditions, such as a rapid dive or inverted flight.” It is astonishing how much more comfortable I am with technical questions than personal ones.

  From then on, the interview was almost simple.

  * * *

  When Hershel asked for a hotel recommendation, I sent him to the Aladdin, which is where Nathaniel and I had stayed after the bomb threat. Its lobby had a second-floor balcony with a martini bar. The balcony was supported by black marble pillars, and the gilding on the railings and at the top of the columns gave a pre-Meteor golden-age elegance to the place.

  As appealing as the martini bar was, after surviving five days of testing, it was probably not a good plan to drink before meeting Aunt Esther. Maybe after that I would have all the martinis they could make.

  We made our way through the lobby and back to the restaurant attached to the rear of the hotel. It was intimate, with pretensions of elegance. When we’d been here before, the food had been solid, if uninspired.

  The ma ître d’ glided forward to meet us, menus in hand. “Two this evening?”

  Across the room, Hershel leaned out from a booth and waved.

  Nathaniel shook his head. “No, thank you. We’re meeting someone.”

  He may have said other things, but I was already past him and hurrying between the rows of tables. Hershel had grabbed his crutches and was pushing up to his feet as I got close. He’d brought Tommy with him, and he looked every inch the young man. He wore his dinner jacket from the bar mitzvah and had his hair slicked down with Brylcreem.

  Hershel braced himself on one crutch and held out an arm for an embrace. I hugged him, suddenly shy about greeting the poof of white hair I’d passed. He gave me a good solid squeeze and murmured. “You look beat.”

  “Good to see you too.” I thumped his back before releasing him and facing my aunt.

  She beamed up at me with the strong Wexler stamp from my father’s side of the family. I don’t know why Aunt Esther never married, but she had a sort of kittenish charm, even over ninety. Her white curls had been pinned into place in a style held over from the 1880s. There was powder caught in the wrinkles on her cheeks, but her eyes were as bright as ever.

  She held out both hands to me. “Anselma! Let me look at you.”

  “Only if I get to look back.” I sank onto the seat beside her, hoping that Tommy would forgive me for not hugging him yet. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

  “Once you hit a certain age, it’s hard to look older.” She reached up to pinch my cheek. “They aren’t feeding you enough at that school of yours.”

  “School?” I shot a glance over to Hershel, who was just shaking hands with Nathaniel.

  “The tests you were doing.” Hershel put a hand on the back of the booth and lowered himself to sit next to Tommy.

  “Oh. That’s not school, really. I’m applying to be an astronaut.”

  Tommy perked up at that. “That is just the keenest thing. What was it like? Did you meet Stetson Parker? How do you get tested? And Dad said we’re going to see a rocket launch while we’re here.”
/>   “I’m not sure which question to answer first.”

  Aunt Esther had a hand cupped around her ear. “What did he say?”

  “He asked how the astronaut testing went.”

  She frowned, cocking her head to the side like a bird. “Well, now, that’s what I thought he said. But I have to confess I’m not real clear on what an astronaut is. I keep hearing it on the news, but it just sounds like some sort of story.”

  “Um … an astronaut is someone who goes into outer space.”

  “Well, that’s the silliest thing I ever heard of. Why would anyone want to do that?”

  I’d spent the day trying to explain that to a series of shrinks who seemed determined to ask many of the same questions that Clemons and the gang had. Defending the desire to an aunt I’d just rediscovered lay beyond my abilities. “Let’s just say that I’m sort of applying for a new job.”

  She shook her head and said something in Yiddish, but too quickly for me to catch. I’d never really spoken Yiddish, since my parents hadn’t. I used to love listening to Aunt Esther and Grandma and the other aunts kvetch, though. I put my hand on her papery thin one. “Sorry? Can you repeat that in English?”

  “Why are you working?” She gave Nathaniel a meaningful look. “Why is your wife working?”

  “She likes it, and I try to make sure she has what she likes.” Nathaniel winked at Aunt Esther as he settled on the bench next to Hershel. “You want me to make sure your niece is happy, right?”

  “She’s just like her father. And her grandmother.” She pinched my cheek again and I began to see why Tommy was sitting next to his father. I’d forgotten this aspect of Aunt Esther. She was the baby of the aunts, which is a funny term to apply to someone who was over ninety. “I would be dead, were it not for Rose.”

  I cleared the tears from my throat. “How did y’all get out?”

  She laughed a little and clapped her hands. “We went to church.”

  Glancing at Hershel, I raised my eyebrows questioningly, but he shrugged. “Aunt Esther, I thought you said that you drove out of Charleston.”

  “Oh … oh. Yes. Later, that’s what we did, but first Rose took us to the church in town—you remember the one with the big steeple? It’s the first time I set foot in a Christian church, but, Rose, she said we had to, and so we climbed all the way up to the top of the bell tower. I’ve never seen so many steps in my life.”

  The church with the big steeple … I had no idea which one she was talking about. We’d moved around so much when I was a kid that my knowledge of Charleston was limited to how to get from Grandma’s house to my cousins’, and the synagogue, cemetery, and grocery store. The priorities were clear, at least.

  “That’s amazing. And how—”

  “Good evening, everyone. Have you had an opportunity to look over the menu?”

  That poor waiter—I don’t think I’ve ever hated anyone quite as much as I hated him in that moment. It wasn’t his fault. He had a job to do—and, truly, I should eat something—but I wanted to hear more about the church. “I’ll need a minute.”

  “I can order for you, if everyone else is ready.” Nathaniel looked up from his menu. “The menu hasn’t changed from when we were here before.”

  “Take your time.” The young man flashed his teeth in a way that said that he was really an actor. He was handsome, if you go for the Clark Gable type, but he was never going to land any roles if his next line was any indication of his acting ability. “Say, aren’t you the Lady Astronaut?”

  “Only on TV. Not when I’m having dinner with my family.” Which was maybe a little too sharp, so I gave a sugar-laden smile to counterbalance it. “You understand, right, honey?”

  Poor kid. He’d thought he could suck up by “recognizing” me. His face fell and you could see him thinking that he’d kissed his tip goodbye. Hershel had covered his mouth and was studying the menu with the intensity of a man trying not to laugh.

  “Sorry, ma’am.” The waiter made a vague gesture to another part of the restaurant. “There were just … there’s a family with some little girls, and they recognized you. I said … They were shy, and I said I could help them out.”

  Oh. Well, that changed things. And I had to give him credit for not backing down from a promise to kids, even if all I really wanted to do was spend time with my aunt.

  Aunt Esther watched the whole conversation with quiet interest. Her head tilted to the side as each of us spoke, which just made her look more like a little bird. When I had visited as a child, she and Grandma had always made time for me and my endless questions. Did I repay that by giving her my attention now, or by following her example and visiting the little girls?

  Sighing, I turned to Nathaniel. “Would you order for me? I’ll be right back.”

  It says something that I wasn’t nervous walking over there. Maybe I was just worn out from the testing, or maybe I was finally getting used to the spotlight. I could hope for the latter.

  The family was sitting at a table close to the entrance. The wife wore a small Star of David on a chain. My heart lifted a little at that. Funny how, even though I was there with my family, just seeing someone else who was visibly Jewish made me feel less alone in the room.

  The younger of the little girls spotted me first, and her brown eyes went wide. Her rosebud of a mouth dropped open. She poked her sister in the side.

  “Ow! Mama! Shoshana is poking m—oh my gosh.” The older girl was perhaps ten, and had the same dark brown curls as her little sister. “Oh my gosh.”

  The father looked around in the direction of his daughters’ stares. Seeing me, he pushed his chair back and stood. “Thank you for coming over, Dr. York. I hope we didn’t interrupt your dinner.”

  “Not at all. It’s just a family gathering.” Telling him that it included an aunt who I’d thought was dead would only make him feel guilty.

  “Robert Horn. My wife, Julia.”

  “A pleasure.” I shook her hand. The skin was rough and chapped, as if she spent a lot of time washing dishes.

  “And these are our daughters, Chanie and Shoshana.” The obvious parental pride shone through his smile. “They are big fans of yours.”

  “I’m going to be an astronaut!” Shoshana announced.

  “I bet you will.” I turned my attention to Chanie. “And how about you?”

  “A writer.” And then, as if seeking my approval, she added, “But I’ll write about space.”

  “Well, then. It sounds like the future will be a wonderful place.”

  We chatted about nothing, which I had become very practiced at over the past several months. What I’d come to realize is that, with kids like these, it was less about me and more about elevating them—not because it was me, but because I was something out of the ordinary.

  It was easy to confuse that with extraordinary. I wasn’t. I could have been anybody so long as I was Somebody, if that makes any sense. They would have been just as excited to meet Hedy Lamarr.

  Though, to be fair, I would also be excited to meet Hedy Lamarr.

  For me, the out-of-the-ordinary person that I met that night was Aunt Esther. When I got back to the table, she had Nathaniel, Tommy, and Hershel crying with laughter. Literally crying. Nathaniel had gone red in the face and was blotting his eyes with his napkin.

  I slid onto the bench, jealous at missing whatever the story had been. Aunt Esther’s cheeks had a flush of red to them, and her wrinkles were twisted up in a bow. Fortunately, Nathaniel had ordered a martini for me, so I had that for consolation.

  Tommy grinned at me. “The damn thing’s hot!”

  “Look what you’ve done.” Hershel shook a finger at our aunt, who did not look even a little abashed. “He’s going to teach that to his sister, and my wife will have my head.”

  “Eileen won’t mind.”

  “Doris.” Hershel wiped his eyes and sobered a little. Our cousin Kenny and his wife Eileen had died in the Meteor. Presumably—like most, they’d just vanished.
“My wife’s name is Doris.”

  “I know.” She picked up a low tumbler, which smelled like a rum and Coke, and gave him a wink. “How is she doing?”

  “ Doris is doing pretty well. She’s looking forward to seeing you. So is my daughter, Rachel.” Hershel also had a martini. He lifted it. “Now that we’re all here … l’chaim!”

  To life, indeed.

  * * *

  I lay sprawled across the bed while Nathaniel rubbed my feet. His thumbs dug into the ball of my right foot in a searching circular pattern, like a tension-finding radar.

  “So … I take it dancing is out?” He ran one thumb down the arch of my foot.

  I groaned and pulled a pillow over my face. “I’ll need a compelling reason to leave this bed. Ever.”

  “I might be able to provide that.” The motion of his hand changed to a softer pressure that sent shivers up my spine.

  “That feels more like a reason to stay in bed.” I pressed the pillow more firmly over my face.

  My husband has a wonderful laugh. “Fine. Stay in bed.”

  “What was the story Aunt Esther told tonight? While I was with the little girls.”

  “Oh God. I nearly died.” His fingers worked around the back of my heel to my Achilles tendon, and then up my calf. “I don’t think I can tell it the way she does, though. Apparently, when your father was little, they’re having a party, and your dad sees his first electric light. He touches it and says, ‘The damn thing’s hot.’ Now—you have to picture your aunt Esther saying that.”

  I could just see her, with her delicate features and bright eyes, chirping, “The damn thing’s hot.”

  Things you don’t expect small children or little old ladies to say. “I’m sorry I missed that.”

  “How about you? I didn’t get to hear anything about the testing today.”

  “Mm…” Under the pillow, the world was warm and had the suffused light of dense cloud cover. Low visibility was fine by me. I’d spent the past five days being tested along every axis they could think of, and some I hadn’t known existed. “The centrifuge was fun.”