The Rift: Hard Science Fiction

by Brandon Q Morris

  Akif smelled it now too. Wood preservative, maybe applied too thickly, or maybe it was one not intended for indoor use. A memory appeared in his mind. He saw himself as if in a movie. Derek was standing in front of him and he was asking Derek to check their house for wood preservative on account of Mary’s allergies. Akif and Mary had both been surprised when her husband had gone with them into the doctor’s office. Derek had never before seemed interested in Mary’s illness.

  It was a peculiar irony of history that he would be proven right about the wood preservative coating. And obviously it had occurred to Derek too.

  “Come into the living room,” Derek said.

  They walk in. The room had a pleasantly old-fashioned feel. He could almost believe that Mary might have lived here once, many years ago. But the furniture was dusty, and the ceiling light had a crack in its glass. Sunlight shimmered into the room through the windows.

  “Have a seat. I made coffee,” Derek said.

  “Tea for me, please,” Gita said.

  “No problem. If I’d known you were coming along, I could’ve had it all ready.”

  Then they sat around the coffee table, sipping from their cups in silence. To Akif, the situation made him think that next Derek would pull out a Ouija board and they would all hold hands and summon Mary’s spirit. They had actually come here to look for a person, who, according to all the documents in the world, never existed. There was no Mary McMaster in his patient records. Anyone who was familiar with the bureaucracy of dealing with health insurance companies knew that the non-existence of a patient file in the computer was synonymous with the non-existence of the person. Nevertheless, yesterday Akif had asked Gita to search the deleted memory contents, but she had still not found anything.

  “What now?” Derek asked.

  “Maybe we call the police?” Akif suggested.

  “Do you know the local sheriff?”

  Akif nodded. He did—not personally, thank goodness, but he knew of the man—and he knew what Derek meant. The police here were used to intervening in bar fights or ticketing speeding tourists. If he took this problem to the sheriff’s office, they’d just laugh at him.

  “Then you make a suggestion,” he said.

  Akif had started to regret agreeing to come here. It didn’t make any sense. He was searching for a past that had never existed. The stolen hours that he had spent with Mary—the universe had taken them back.

  “Why did you actually agree to help me, Akif?”

  Derek’s gaze looked suspicious. Or was it just his own guilty conscience? Should he tell him the truth? He decided instead to lie with at least something close to the truth.

  “You looked so sad, Derek, I wanted to do something.” Derek had looked quite sad, and he really had wanted to do something for him. “Why do you ask?”

  “I want to know how far you’re willing to go with this.”

  “What are you thinking?” Akif asked. He looked at Gita. She was holding a hand in front of her mouth.

  “Nothing illegal—at least not at first,” Derek replied. “But it’s probably a little crazy.”

  “Okay, you’ve got me interested. Tell me.”

  “Yes, tell us,” Gita said. She relaxed a little.

  “I know a junk dealer. He’s got a decommissioned New Shepard in his backyard.”

  “A what? Some kind of aircraft?” Akif asked.

  “No, a rocket.”

  “You’re crazy,” the doctor said. “Don’t you need a whole facility and support crew to launch a rocket? How old is this thing?”

  “I happened to talk to the guy three weeks ago. It’s an exhibition model that was shown at fairs.”

  “Okay, but when was it built?”

  “Strictly speaking, he’s got a booster and a crew capsule.”

  “The year. What year was it built?”

  “2025.”

  “Derek, it’s 60 years old! No wonder it’s in the junkyard!”

  “You’re underestimating the New Shepard. Its design was rather brilliant for the time. The rocket launches itself, then the booster and capsule separate and both land again, independent from each other.”

  “That doesn’t change the rocket’s age.”

  “It’s usually dry out here. Things don’t rust very quickly.”

  “So, then what? What about the facilities? Launch pad? Control room? Antennas and all that?”

  “The New Shepard doesn’t need those things. It’s controlled by an onboard computer. Just like a huge, oversized toy.”

  “Are you a trained pilot?”

  “I am. I flew fighter jets. But that doesn’t even matter. The computer takes care of everything itself. For years they packed tourists in there and shot them into space for a few minutes... until it was no longer profitable. A pilot would just have been extra, non-paying weight.”

  “What about fuel?”

  “We’d need liquid hydrogen and liquid oxygen. Both are simple enough to get. I’ve already called a chemical-supplies shop, and they have enough in stock.”

  “Derek, you’re crazy.”

  “I did warn you.”

  “Gita, what do you think of this?” Akif asked. “You haven’t said anything.”

  “Um... a trip into space... I’ve got nothing against it,” she said.

  Akif was surprised. His Indian receptionist wanted to be an astronaut? He knew that she was capable of being far more than a receptionist, but this?

  “But what I’m asking myself is, ‘What’s the point?’ What do you want to achieve with this, Derek?”

  “Can’t you imagine? I want to see what’s inside that thing.”

  “You mean you want to fly into it?” Akif asked. “But we’ve already seen what happens.”

  “No, we haven’t at all. The airplane disappeared, at least that’s what we remember. But it also didn’t disappear; it was never there. Maybe it’s not really gone! It couldn’t have just vanished into thin air!”

  “Are you thinking maybe it landed in some other world?” Gita asked.

  “Right. I had the idea last night. Maybe the rift leads to a different universe where everything happens in reverse. Suddenly an airplane appears there in the sky and all at once everyone thinks that it had always been there. The newcomers would be as seamlessly integrated into the new reality as they were erased from ours.”

  “You want to follow Mary into that world,” Akif said, no hint of a question in his tone.

  “Maybe, but maybe not. We could also change our minds as we go. The capsule has its own small propulsion system. We could use it to steer into the rift or away from it. Maybe we’d see something when we got close that would change our decision.”

  “We should at least take a look at this junked rocket,” Gita said. “Maybe there’s something to this idea.”

  “I agree,” Akif said.

  “Then let’s finish our drinks and get going.”

  Akif followed Derek’s suggestion. Then he noticed that his bladder was complaining. “Where’s the bathroom?” he asked.

  “Take a left out of the living room, then it’s at the end of the hall. Sorry, but it’s a bit messy.”

  Akif was already expecting that, but it didn’t bother him. He stood up, squeezed Gita’s shoulder in passing, and left the living room. At the end of the hall, a brass sign of a small boy peeing into a pot hung on the door at eye level. Akif prepared himself for an unpleasant smell and opened the door.

  Automatically, a bright ceiling light switched on. The room didn’t smell unpleasant at all, just a bit damp. There was a shower, a tub, and a sink. Everything was tolerably clean. There were various pieces of dirty clothing scattered around the floor. Derek must’ve taken them off before showering and simply left them there on the floor. Akif remembered how Mary had told him about this habit—she had mentioned always having to clean up Derek’s things.

  He looked around and felt a bit like an intruder. Actually, he was looking for traces of Mary. Maybe the universe had f
orgotten one of her perfume bottles or an earring that had fallen behind the toilet? How did the universe decide which of a person’s objects to erase from reality when that person fell into the rift?

  The deodorant, for example, which was standing on the shelf above the sink, was pink and had a bouquet of flowers on its label. It was clearly a woman’s deodorant. Akif examined it. There was no dust on it so Derek must use it regularly. Had he done that when Mary was still part of this reality too? Maybe she had bought it for herself? He opened the cap and smelled it. It wasn’t the fragrance of her that he remembered. She had smelled so good, everywhere.

  You have to stop, he told himself. You’re just unnecessarily torturing yourself. He lifted the toilet lid. The bottom of the lid had a sign on it directed toward men. He sat down obediently on the toilet seat. Who had put that sign there? If Derek had always lived in this house by himself, why would he put up a ‘Sit down to pee!’ sign on his toilet?

  Maybe because he didn’t want urine on the seat? Akif let his bladder drain. He shook his penis and stood up. A drop fell on the seat. He tore off a piece of toilet paper, wiped up the drop, and threw the paper into the toilet. Then he flushed and pulled up his pants.

  The other two had apparently been waiting to hear him flush. “We’re already outside,” they called in unison and then laughed.

  When he went outside, he didn’t see anyone, but there were sounds coming from his car.

  “Just shut the door. No need to lock it,” Derek called, “nothing ever happens out here in the country.”

  He pulled the house door closed and walked over to the others. Gita was sitting in the driver’s seat, Derek next to her. Good, then he would just sit in the back.

  The car door closed itself.

  “Please enter your destination,” the automated system said.

  Derek dictated the junk dealer’s address.

  “Estimated driving time: 37 minutes,” the voice said.

  Akif leaned back.

  It took a few more minutes than expected, because the software had led them straight into a small backup on the interstate.

  “I told you we should have gotten off at that last exit,” Derek commented.

  The car’s voice apologized profusely. It had never done that before, Akif thought. Maybe it was part of the new update the manufacturer installed yesterday.

  “I’ll go in first,” Derek said. “I already told the owner we were coming. Just watch what you say. The guy doesn’t know what I’ve got planned for his rocket yet.”

  “Does he not want to sell it?” Akif asked.

  “I haven’t asked him yet.”

  This is starting out really well, Akif thought. This guy was probably a total space nut and would never give up the New Shepard. As a junk dealer, he could have long ago sold it for cash. But if that turned out to be the case, at least then they wouldn’t have to decide if they wanted to try to actually ride that piece of junk into space.

  “I’ll take care of it,” Derek said. “Trust me.”

  A man came toward them where they waited outside the large, wrought-iron gate blocking the entrance. He opened it a half meter, the hinges creaking, and let them onto his property one at a time. Then he extended his oil-smeared right hand. Derek shook his hand first, and then the others did too.

  “Hi, Johnny,” Derek said. “Thanks for making time for us.”

  “Yeah, I was just able to squeeze you in between the hordes of tourists,” Johnny said, and then laughed loudly.

  Akif looked around. He didn’t see the rocket anywhere. Maybe the dealer had already sold it?

  “You ready to see my baby? Follow me. She’s behind the house.”

  Johnny led them around the house. To the left, Akif saw a mountain of junk. The dealer must have been trying to sort through it all, because nearby he saw a workbench with a pile of beer bottles stacked on top. Farther toward the back he saw a junk press.

  “There she is,” Johnny said.

  He pointed to something that Akif at first thought was a section from an old gas pipeline. It would have been a rather thick gas pipeline. He estimated it to have a diameter of about four meters, its total length 15 meters, give-or-take.

  “I’m really excited about this,” Derek said. “I’d really like to see it upright.”

  “That wouldn’t be a problem,” Johnny said. “Empty, it only weighs a little more than ten tons. If you’ll pay for a crane, I can set it up for you.”

  “Why isn’t it being stored upright?” Akif asked.

  “Well, maybe you’re forgetting the snowstorms in the fall and winter, buddy, and the severe thunderstorms in the spring and summer. If this beauty tipped over, it’d get all dented up, and then it wouldn’t be worth as much.”

  “Ah, okay,” Akif said.

  “My friend here,” Derek said, pointing at him, “is a photographer. And Gita is his beautiful assistant.”

  What if this didn’t work? What if Johnny had seen him sometime before, like in the hospital or someplace?

  But the man nodded. “Of course, it’s an honor. You came here just because of my beauty here?” he asked.

  “My friend Derek told me all about it.”

  “But you didn’t bring your equipment with you?”

  The man asked so innocently that Akif felt bad about lying.

  Before he could say anything, Derek jumped in. “I knew there were these mountains of junk around it. It wouldn’t have made a very pretty picture with that in the background,” he said. “We’d like to set it upright in an open space, clean it up properly, and then light it up real well. It’ll be in National Geographic. And you too, if you want.”

  Johnny looked happy. Now Akif felt really bad, because he knew what Derek was planning. He would have to talk to him about it afterward. They could still call the whole thing off.

  “Well, buddy, I hate to tell you, but you’d have to pay for all that,” Johnny said. “I can’t afford a 15-ton crane.”

  “Of course, Johnny. We’d take care of all of it. Maybe we could even slip you a little something for the trouble. What do you think, Roberto?”

  Roberto? What was Derek trying to do? Did he want their story to be believable, or did he just not want to use his real name?

  “How about 500?” Akif asked.

  Johnny beamed. I’ll have to pay the 500 myself, I’m sure, Akif thought. Derek appeared ready to steal this guy’s treasure, but at least this way the man would be 500 dollars richer than before. He wasn’t going to sell the rocket anyway, so it was just dead capital, quite unlike five hundred-dollar bills.

  May 28, 2085, Pasadena

  Glen Sparrow had left Pasadena for the day. He had flown to Houston very early in the morning for some meetings with a few NASA higher-ups. As soon as he was back, he would give her a report on what happened.

  Maribel was happy. She could finally take Luisa on their little day trip she had promised. They had their rented car drive them to Santa Monica, where they walked on the beach and visited the pier with its many little gift shops.

  Luisa was not impressed. “Can’t we go see the spaceships?” she asked.

  “I’m sorry, but there aren’t any here that they let kids see,” Maribel said.

  “We’d have to go to Florida for that,” Chen said.

  “Then let’s go to Florida!”

  “It’s too far away, Luisa, we’d have to sit in the car for more than an entire day just to get there. You wouldn’t like that,” Maribel explained.

  “No, I wouldn’t.” Luisa looked at the ground and scratched in the sand with her feet.

  “I’ve got an idea,” Chen said. “There’s a place, a hill, where you can see the rockets at Vandenberg.”

  “How do you know that?” Maribel asked.

  “I went there once when I was a boy. But I don’t know if it’s still there, and I don’t know if I’d be able to find it. Luisa, we’d have to drive for almost three hours, is that okay? And if I’m wrong, we might not see anyt
hing at all.”

  “That’s okay, Daddy. Let’s try,” Luisa said.

  “You’re crazy,” Maribel said to Chen after they’d been driving for an hour and Luisa had fallen asleep in the back seat.

  “No more than you.”

  “Maybe she’ll be an astronaut,” Maribel said, pointing to the back.

  “Yeah, maybe. Or a chef. Doesn’t matter to me.”

  “True. The main thing is that she’s happy.”

  “So, you’ve thought through this thing with the space elevator?”

  “Yes, Chen, the concept makes sense. It was canceled purely because of money. Glen’s supposed to clear all that up today.”

  As if Glen had heard her talking about him, her cellphone rang. It was Glen.

  “I only have a couple of seconds,” he said. “I got the money, and George Crewmaster has also agreed to think about it, as long as you’re going. He told me to tell you ‘hi.’”

  “What? You told me George had already said yes!”

  “He said he would consider it.”

  “Well, my daughter’s sleeping in the back, but watch out in the office tomorrow.”

  “See you.” He hung up.

  “That asshole lied to me,” she said angrily, but as quietly as she could manage.

  “Oldest trick in the book,” Chen said. “Now he owes you. And you were going to go anyway, weren’t you?”

  Maribel nodded, even though she didn’t want to admit it. Sometimes Chen knew her better than she did herself. Or was willing to admit to herself.

  Early in the afternoon, Chen woke her.

  “We’re almost there.”

  They were driving on Old Highway 1. Maribel noticed at once that they were driving in the wrong direction, because the sun was on the opposite side of the car.

  “Have we turned around?”

  “The entrance was on the left, so we couldn’t turn there from the other direction.” He pointed to the signs in the middle of the four-lane road. “There, see the sign?”