by Ben Mezrich
Unusual, and so compelling that he didn’t hear the golf cart approaching from behind until it was already pulling to a stop on the path a few feet from where he was standing. The clack of high heels against stone was impossible to ignore, however; he turned away from the thrusters in time to see Sonya teetering toward him, a small flight bag slung precariously over one bare shoulder while she waved good-bye to the security guard who had given her a lift from the front gate. When she reached Thad, she was smiling—but he could see the shadow of annoyance in her dark, catlike eyes.
“It’s nearly one hundred degrees out here. Wouldn’t it have made more sense to meet at your apartment?”
She leaned forward to kiss his cheek. Without even thinking, out of reflex, Thad reached his hands out toward her flat stomach, to work his fingers under the thin material of her tank top—but she playfully pushed his hands away.
“I feel gross right now from the flight. And I don’t think you need to warm your fingers out here. If you touched that rocket ship, you’d probably burn your skin right off.” Thad took the bag from her, putting it over his own shoulder. He figured there would be plenty of time for the comforts of home; they had a whole weekend together. First, it was more important to him for her to see his world, his NASA—and he knew exactly where he wanted to start.
…
Thad wasn’t sure why he was so nervous. As he stood next to his wife at the top of the amphitheater steps, waiting for the lecture to end, his palms were damp and he was shifting his weight from foot to foot. It was foolish, he told himself; he had been in the amphitheater dozens of times. And this afternoon had begun in such a secure and comforting place—his lab, just a few floors away.
Helms hadn’t been around, but Sonya had still enjoyed seeing where Thad worked. She’d been duly impressed by the futuristic setting, and she’d also gotten to meet Thad’s immediate boss, Dr. Agee. Agee had seemed quite taken with her—and why wouldn’t he be, she was so damn striking in her high heels and tank top. Not exactly a good fit with the NASA dress code, but it certainly brightened the place up.
But the lab wasn’t the main reason Thad had wanted Sonya to visit Building 31 that particular day; he had wanted to show her the NASA she couldn’t learn about from a brochure. She shared his affinity for things that were real, objects that told stories—which was why he had taken her straight to the amphitheater after the lab. Now, watching as the first-year co-ops finally began to filter out of their seats and make their way up the steps, emptying the auditorium, Thad could only hope that his efforts would be worthwhile.
It was another few minutes before he finally caught sight of Dr. Gibson’s closely cropped gray hair and thick glasses as the man made his way up the steps after the last of the co-ops had exited. Gibson was wearing his lab coat over a blue button-down shirt, and he looked like he’d just come from his own lab, not just given the lecture that was one of the biggest draws of each co-op’s first tour. But he did have his NASA briefcase in his right hand; Thad felt a thrill watching that case bob back and forth as the older man took the amphitheater steps, because he knew exactly what was inside.
“Dr. Gibson,” he called out as Gibson was about to walk past where he and his wife were standing. “I want to introduce you to someone. I’ve been showing my wife around the place, and I know she would get a real thrill out of meeting an Apollo scientist.”
Gibson looked up. He seemed a little distracted, but when he caught sight of Sonya—the nervous smile on her bee-stung lips and the way she pushed the hair out of her eyes—he softened. She always had that effect on people.
“The pleasure is all mine,” Gibson said, emanating class. “Thad is one of our more enthusiastic characters. We’re all learning a lot from him.”
Thad smiled, then pointed at the briefcase.
“I was really hoping that you could show Sonya one of your cool meteorites. I know it would mean a lot to her to see one up close.”
Gibson glanced down at his briefcase, then back at Thad and Sonya.
“Actually, it’s a couple of big moon rocks today. The meteorites are back in my lab.”
“A moon rock would be great, too—” Thad started to say, but Gibson interrupted him.
“It’s no problem. We can head over to my lab—but have you guys had anything to eat, because I’m famished? Maybe a quick stop for Chinese?”
Thad could see that Sonya was into the idea; pretty cool, to get a lunch invite from a guy who had been on the Apollo project.
“Sounds like a great idea,” Thad responded.
Chinese food and moon rocks—just another normal afternoon at the JSC.
…
Forty minutes later, Gibson was leading them down a long corridor on a midlevel floor of Building 31. Sonya was right behind him, Thad a step after, and they were moving through the building at a rapid pace. Gibson and Sonya were making small talk, and it had been like that during most of the time at the Chinese restaurant. She was taking full advantage of her time with an Apollo scientist.
As they walked, Gibson described how the building used to be, when he’d first arrived at the JSC. No matter how many times Thad heard the story, he was still fascinated by thoughts of what it must’ve been like for Gibson as a young man, seeing those moon rocks for the very first time. And Gibson seemed to like telling the story.
He’d barely made it to Apollo 17, the last manned mission, when he turned a corner in the hallway and pointed toward an open doorway. From the outside, Gibson’s lab looked similar to Thad’s, and Thad couldn’t help noticing that there was a cipher lock next to the door frame, just like the one outside his lab—but because the door was already open, the lock was, of course, disengaged. Gibson told Thad and Sonya to wait in the doorway, then entered the lab. Thad figured it was some sort of procedural thing; from where he was standing, he could see that there was at least one assistant or co-op already in the lab at the time, working at one of the stainless-steel countertops. Thad couldn’t tell what the man was working on—but he assumed it was something having to do with actual extraterrestrial materials, not the practice rocks he and Helms were forced to use.
As Gibson disappeared deeper into the sixteen-by-twenty-foot lab, Thad felt his curiosity getting the better of him. He decided it wouldn’t hurt to stick his head inside, just to see where the man was going with the briefcase. Sonya didn’t even seem to notice what Thad was doing: craning his neck, Thad caught sight of Gibson at the very back corner of the rectangular room, standing in front of what looked to be a huge upright steel safe. There was a large wheel-style combination lock on the front of the safe—but Gibson wasn’t at the wheel, he was leaning over the top of the safe, the briefcase still in his hands. Thad squinted, seeing that there was a piece of paper with numbers written across it taped to the top surface of the safe. He wondered if those numbers could actually be the combination of the safe—right there, taped to the damn thing itself? It seemed a pretty foolish thing to do, but then again, this was a pretty secure environment. Gibson’s personal lab, where he’d probably worked for decades. If he didn’t feel secure here, he wouldn’t feel secure anywhere.
Thad couldn’t quite make out what Gibson did to the combination wheel after he was done with the taped piece of paper on top of the safe, but a moment later the huge door to the thing swung open. Thad saw that the safe contained five drawers, separated into compartments. Gibson bent down on one knee, opened his briefcase, and began placing the contents back into the safe. When he was done, he reached into a different compartment and retrieved a palm-sized object.
Thad quickly yanked his head back out into the hallway as Gibson slammed the safe door shut. Another minute, and Gibson was back at the entrance to his lab, smiling ear to ear. He asked Sonya to hold out her hand. When she did, he placed a small glass vial in her outstretched palm.
“This is what we call a calcareous meteorite. It’s the lowest-density meteor we’ve ever found. They usually break all the way up when they come into
the atmosphere, but this little piece survived the journey.”
“This is amazing,” Sonya exclaimed. “This isn’t from the moon, is it?”
“No,” Gibson said. “Moon rocks are a little too valuable to give away. Even for scientists like me to get a lunar sample, you have to go through numerous steps. You conceive an experiment, you write a research proposal, it goes through peer review by non-NASA scientists—there’s a checks-and-balances system. Because all the moon rocks we’ve got came from those six Apollo missions. There aren’t any more, and there aren’t going to be any more. It wouldn’t even be legal for me to own a moon rock. The ones I have in my safe, I’ve acquired over thirty years of research proposals, and when I retire, they’ll go right back to the lunar vault.”
“But this meteorite?” Sonya asked.
“That’s a gift to you guys.”
Sonya looked like she wanted to give the man a hug. Thad felt himself swell with pride, even though he had nothing to do with the gift.
Gibson waved their gratitude away.
“It’s our job to inspire young people like yourselves. That’s really the point of this place. Thank you both for a lovely afternoon.”
With that, Gibson stepped back into his lab, closing the door behind him. Thad listened as the cipher lock clicked shut. Then he grabbed Sonya’s hand so that they could look at the meteorite together. And for that moment, as brief as it was, all of the friction between them disappeared.
* * *
I can still hear it, Rebecca. I feel it when I close my eyes—when I open my hands to the tides of air that dance around me. For years I’ve held on and hoped in little whispers as I lie awake in the middle of the night alone, as the leaves are dashing near the end. My treasures are still the life-giving images that dance inside me … of how your eyes would light up as we talked of the next adventure—of how your body would gracefully release as I brushed your hair, of how the rest of the world always disappeared when I held your hand. I still tremble in the lonely moments, when the business fades and everything around me goes quiet. That’s when I hear it the clearest. That’s when the chimes echo, when my heartstrings amplify the harmony of their most treasured moments. It’s always with me. It wasn’t just a passing tune.
* * *
12
From a distance, the scene probably looked like some sort of bizarre suicide cult: a dozen young men and women splayed out in a circular formation on the flat surface at the peak of the giant granite dome, resting, supine, against overstuffed down sleeping bags, with backpacks for pillows—and only a pair of butane-gas lanterns to battle against the encroaching soup of night.
Thad was at the center of the human circle, crouching over his own sleeping bag. He’d been frozen in that awkward position for a good few minutes, and by now most of the makeshift campsite was watching him. He smiled toward the person closest to him, a mousy girl with spiky blond hair, dressed in boy shorts and an oversized NASA tank top.
“I’m conflicted,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper. “On the one hand, the geologist in me wants me on my stomach, because this is the kind of rock formation you don’t see every day. On the other hand, the astronaut in me wants me on my back. Because this is like a movie theater, with the entire solar system splashed across the screen.”
The girl smiled shyly back. Even that little bit of effort pasted splotches of red against her lightly freckled cheeks. She was one of the few campers whom Thad didn’t know very well. Her name was Sandra, and she had signed up for the weekend excursion at the very last minute.
“I guess the astronaut has to win, right?” Thad continued, finally rolling onto his back. He cupped his hands behind his head. He could feel the hard, smooth granite beneath his fingers, but the pressure didn’t bother him. The rock was even warmer than the southern Texas air, and it felt almost therapeutic against his skin.
As usual, the weekend excursion had been Thad’s idea, and he had organized everything, from the rental cars that they’d used for the three-hour trip from Houston to the purchase of the camping provisions and sleeping bags they would need for the forty-eight hours in the wilderness. Well, “wilderness” was a bit of an exaggeration; Austin State Park—specifically the Enchanted Rock Nature Area—was a well-traveled camping and hiking park. From the four-mile loop that encircled the granite rock formations that gave the park its name to the numerous caves, natural streams, picnic areas, and even playgrounds that dotted the well-preserved landmark, the place was really an outdoor amusement park for camping novices. Heck, there were even showers and restrooms.
But there was also the great granite dome, where Thad and his small group were camped. Rising almost one hundred feet over the park, it was an upside-down bowl of rock, sheer in some places, jutting and rough in others. What was really cool about the dome was the steep slope toward the summit; the traction was so phenomenal you could practically walk straight up it, your boots crunching against crystal as you went. And when you reached the top—the view seemed to go on forever.
Although the stars were just starting to come out, Thad already felt like he was watching the beginning of a fireworks display. The moon was so bright it was overwhelming the butane lanterns, and Thad was having no trouble reading the constellations without even shifting the position of his head. He had spent many nights like this back in Utah, at the observatory that was his home away from home. But here, in the wilderness of the state park, on the top of a granite mountain—it was the kind of place that turned even cynics into romantics.
It wasn’t exactly legal to be camping right there on the top of the dome. There were signs all over the park warning against it, but Thad had felt an obligation to his little crew of co-ops and interns. They were his charges, and he was their social director. A stupid park ranger’s whimsical rules shouldn’t be allowed to keep the nation’s finest budding scientists away from a view like this.
“You have to admit, it’s worth the price of admission.”
Again, the girl just smiled. She was cute, in a very young, almost Disney cartoon way—like the pretty little mouse that would break into song at any moment. It was easy to see that she was incredibly shy, still trying to figure out the world around her. Sweet, innocent, eighteen years old, she was an intern—which meant she was probably a college freshman, lucky enough to be spending time at NASA. That she had even signed up for the camping excursion was impressive. In a social setting like this, she was completely out of her element.
“I wonder how many of us will ever have a chance to go up there,” Thad continued, pointing lazily at the canopy of stars. “I guess that’s why we’re all at NASA, but most of us will go on to do other things.”
Thad could tell that the girl was finally working up the nerve to say something in response. He waited, trying to make it easy for her.
“If anyone can make it,” she finally said, and even her voice was mouselike, “I think it will be you. But I kind of hope it will be me.”
Thad grinned. She had some edge to her, after all. For an engineering major.
“Even the first Apollo capsules had room for two,” he joked back.
“But only one of them got to be the pilot.”
“The pilot? That’s the chickenshit position. It’s the other guy who steps outside the capsule door. Who got to hit golf balls on the moon. It’s the other guy who’s willing to take risks.”
“Anyone who wants to be an astronaut has to like to take risks.”
Thad was surprised to see the mischief in her thin smile. Thad liked her immediately—not in a romantic sense, even though her hard little body filled out the boy shorts and tank top in a remarkable way. But the fact that she was fighting her shyness to joke with him—it was platonically interesting. He had a lot of acquaintances at NASA, but other than Helms, nobody he would call a good friend. That was the way his life had always worked. There was Sonya, and then there was everybody else.
Recently, there was barely even Sonya. It had on
ly been three weeks since her visit to the JSC, but things had gone downhill pretty quickly once she’d returned to Utah. That weekend had been incredible, a sort of honeymoon, inspired by the gift of the meteorite from Dr. Gibson. But the minute she’d stepped back onto the plane, her demeanor toward Thad had seemed to change. When they talked on the phone, all she wanted to speak about was her modeling, her life in Utah. It was getting harder and harder for Thad to live in both places at once.
Here, on the top of the granite dome, his face brightly lit by a canopy of stars, it was frighteningly easy to forget about Sonya.
“It’s easy to talk about risk,” he countered, now facing Sandra head-on. “It’s a lot harder to live it.”
Sandra had inched a little closer, maybe because she didn’t want any of the other co-ops or interns to hear what they were saying. Thad didn’t want to lead her on, but he was enjoying the attention.
“You think I’m all talk?”
“Actually, I didn’t think you talked at all. I wonder what else I got wrong about you.”
“I guess that’s something you’ll have to figure out for yourself.”
Thad grinned. She was an eighteen-year-old girl trying to sound older, trying to impress him by pretending she wasn’t scared. He felt it was his duty to help her along. To open her up. If she really wanted to be an astronaut, she’d have to break out of her shell.
“You think you’re ready to do something risky?”
Sandra’s smile tightened a little, but she seemed to fight through it.
“What, exactly, did you have in mind?”
…
“You sure about this?”
“I think so.”
“Because if you’re not sure—”