by Malinda Lo
Out on the landing, Lily sat down on the bench beside the telephone table and lifted the heavy black receiver to her ear. “Hello? It’s Lily.”
“Hello, Lily,” Aunt Judy said. Her voice sounded a bit fuzzy over the line from Pasadena. “How’s school?”
Lily dutifully reported on what she was learning in Advanced Mathematics, the only class her aunt was truly interested in hearing about. “Oh, I also wanted to tell you,” Lily said, “that a friend of mine gave me an issue of Collier’s with an article in it by Wernher von Braun about going to Mars.” She had never before mentioned Kath to anyone in her family, and a flush of happiness rose inside her.
“I’ve seen it,” Aunt Judy said. “We were passing that issue around at JPL. I’ve seen him too, Dr. von Braun. He was at the lab recently.”
“Really! What was he doing there?”
“I don’t know. And if I did, I couldn’t tell you,” Aunt Judy said teasingly.
“In the article Dr. von Braun said that we won’t be able to go to Mars for a hundred years—not until the mid-2000s. Do you think he’s right? Can’t we go before then?”
“Oh, we’ll go before then,” Aunt Judy said confidently.
“When? How soon?”
“Well, we won’t go in that massive spaceship he envisions. He’s a brilliant scientist, of course, but it’s impractical to start with such a huge endeavor.”
There was an unusually formal tone in Aunt Judy’s voice as she described Dr. von Braun as a brilliant scientist, as if she were reading from a press release. Lily wanted to ask what her aunt truly thought of the former Nazi scientist, but before she had the opportunity, her aunt continued, “We’ll send unmanned rockets first, probably within your lifetime. And there are other things we can do much sooner.”
“Like going to the moon?”
“Yes, but even before that we’ll need to go into orbit. That will happen very soon, I think.”
“How soon?”
Aunt Judy laughed. “Well, I can’t say exactly. But 1957 will be the International Geophysical Year. It will be a great opportunity for research and exploration. Peaceful exploration. You know, there were a few other issues of Collier’s that got into some of that—a moon colony and space stations. I’ll try to find them and send them to you.”
Aunt Judy turned the conversation to Thanksgiving dinner (she was bringing hsin-jen tou-fu* to Uncle Francis’s family), and end-of-semester final exams, and then she asked, “Tell me—this friend who gave you the issue of Collier’s. Who is it? You’ve never had a friend who’s interested in these things, have you?”
Lily beamed to herself, ducking her head down to hide her smile even though she was alone on the landing. “She’s in Advanced Math with me. Her name is Kath. She wants to be a pilot—she’s even been in an airplane before.”
“Is she new this year?”
“Oh no. We’ve been in school together forever but never really been friends until now.” She added, “Maybe because this year we’re the last two girls left in math. It’s us and all the boys.”
“I’m glad you have an ally. I was the only girl in most of my college math classes. You’ll have to get used to it if you’re going to major in math or engineering, but I know you won’t have any trouble.”
Her aunt was always supportive like this, always confident in Lily’s abilities and dreams, and now she knew about Kath—her ally, what a funny way to think of her—and Lily realized how unusual Aunt Judy was. Shirley thought Lily’s dreams were ridiculous; Kath didn’t tell her parents what she wanted to do because they would think she was crazy.
“Just between you and me, I think women are better than men at math,” Aunt Judy added slyly. “Don’t tell your uncle Francis.”
It seemed like such a grown-up joke to make. Lily swelled with pride at having been allowed to hear it. “I’m sure he already knows,” she said boldly.
Aunt Judy chuckled. “You’re probably right. Oh, I’d love to talk more but we’ll have to do it later. Go and get Eddie, will you?”
Later in the kitchen, as Lily peeled potatoes under her mother’s direction, she wondered again about the tone in Aunt Judy’s voice when she talked about Dr. von Braun. Last Chinese New Year, when Aunt Judy and Uncle Francis had been visiting, they stayed up late talking with Lily’s parents about China and the Communists. Lily had gone to bed by then, and she knew they all thought she was asleep because they’d never have discussed these things in the living room if they suspected she could hear them. Her parents hardly ever mentioned politics; even when they mentioned China they didn’t address its Communist rulers.
Uncle Francis brought up von Braun first. He seemed especially rankled by the welcome that the American government had rolled out for the former Nazi. “He worked against us in the war,” Uncle Francis said in a low, tight voice. “He should be in prison, not given free rein over the army’s missile project. And yet there he is—free! While Dr. Tsien is under house arrest.”
Lily hadn’t understood the whole story the night she overheard Uncle Francis, but later on she’d learned that Dr. Hsue-shen Tsien was one of the cofounders of the Jet Propulsion Laboratory, and he worked for the American military during the war even though he was a Chinese citizen. Now that China had been taken by the Communists, he had fallen under suspicion and was accused of spying.
“I believe the American government is doing its best,” Lily’s father said.
“How do you know that?” Uncle Francis asked. “Dr. Tsien is a good man. He does not deserve this. It’s not fair.”
“It’s not about fairness,” Aunt Judy said. “It’s about fear. They’re afraid of Dr. Tsien, because Communist China stands independent and could still have a claim on him. Nazi Germany is gone. Dr. von Braun has no loyalties left to claim.”
At first it had seemed far-fetched that Aunt Judy and Uncle Francis worked at a job that put them in the same circle as the famous German scientist, but then Lily remembered her family had unusual links to other powerful people, too. Her father had a friend in Berkeley who had been some kind of Kuomintang government official before the war, and now was petitioning Congress for American citizenship. Aunt Judy had described her mother—Lily’s grandmother, whom she’d never met—as an influential member of 1920s Shanghai society, who had been friendly with Soong Ching-ling, the wife of Sun Yat-sen.
The late-night conversation about Wernher von Braun and Hsue-shen Tsien fell in the same category: tantalizing glimpses into an adult world that seemed completely separate from the mundane reality of her daily life. It was disorienting when that world bled into this one.
Now, back in the kitchen, the turkey was beginning to scent the air. As Lily peeled potatoes, her mother sat down across from her with a basket of green beans and asked, “How’s Shirley? You saw her the other day, didn’t you?”
“Yes. Her entire family’s coming over for Thanksgiving dinner. They’re making three turkeys.”
“My goodness! I’m glad you and Shirley are talking again. You two had a fight, didn’t you?”
Lily was surprised. “How did you know?”
Her mother plucked the ends off the green beans briskly, snap-snap-snap. “You came home from school every day without visiting her.”
Lily cringed inwardly at how transparent she had been. “It wasn’t anything,” she said dismissively. “Just a silly disagreement.”
Her mother nodded. “Girls fight, especially at your age. It’s natural. I’m glad you’re over it. Shirley’s a good friend to you.”
Her mother’s characterization of their friendship irritated Lily—as if Lily should be grateful for Shirley’s friendship. “What happened with Papa and his papers?” Lily asked, changing the subject. “Did he get them back?”
Her mother paused briefly in her bean snapping. “Not yet,” she said. There was a finality to her tone that told Lily not to pus
h. “You haven’t had anything more to do with the Man Ts’ing, have you?”
Lily shook her head. “No.”
—1952
Francis begins working as an engineer at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory.
Judy is hired as a computer at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory.
—Feb. 13, 1953
JUDY takes Lily to the Morrison Planetarium at the California Academy of Sciences in Golden Gate Park.
Fighting ends in the Korean War.
—1954
The San Francisco Police Department launches a drive against so-called “sex deviates,” raiding gay bars and other known gay gathering places.
The U.S. Senate condemns Joseph McCarthy.
JUDY
Twenty-Two Months Earlier
Judy Fong climbed out of the taxicab and held the door open for her fifteen-year-old niece. Lily looked slightly anxious, but Lily often looked that way; Judy sometimes worried that Lily thought too much. She closed the taxi door and joined Lily on the sidewalk while they waited for Francis, Judy’s husband, to finish paying the driver.
The long driveway in front of the California Academy of Sciences was thronged with cars, their headlights creating a moving sea of light in the early evening darkness. It reminded Judy of another night, years ago in Chungking during the war. She had stepped out of the building that served as her college dormitory to see a seemingly endless convoy of vehicles rolling down the dark streets, their headlights like lanterns floating down a river. They were Chinese army trucks with soldiers packed inside, rifles in their hands. She had stood there on the front step of the dormitory until she grew stiff with cold, silently watching the young men peering out the backs of their trucks, their eyes reflecting the headlights.
Francis bounded up onto the sidewalk beside her and took her arm, slipping it through his. “Ready?”
She emerged from her memory with a start. “Yes,” she said. Sometimes, the past seemed to slide directly over the present, and when she came back to herself, the world she lived in now seemed like a fantasy.
The three of them turned to face the museum. The California Academy of Sciences, with its tall columns lit by white spotlights, was as grand as a Greek temple serenely overlooking Golden Gate Park. Judy couldn’t see the dome of the Morrison Planetarium from their vantage point, but she knew it rose from the roof just beyond the front facade of the building. Everybody had been talking about it since it opened last fall. It was said to be the most up-to-date planetarium in the country, maybe even the world, and tonight it was their destination.
“Let’s go,” Francis said, and led the way up the steps.
* * *
—
The interior of the planetarium was round, with the pale dome arcing high overhead, and all the seats circled the giant mechanical projector in the center of the room. Supported on two massive tripods, it looked like a cross between a robot and a huge, legless insect—or perhaps a robotic insect. There were dozens of lenses on it that resembled eyes facing every direction. Each lens would project a certain star or cluster of stars onto the dome.
Francis was enthusiastically explaining the whole setup to Lily as they made their way to their seats on the far side of the planetarium. “It was all made here at the Academy by American scientists,” Francis said, “so they didn’t have to source anything from German manufacturers behind the Iron Curtain. They learned about optics during the war when they ran an optical repair shop right here in the museum.”
Judy checked to make sure that Lily wasn’t simply feigning interest, but her niece seemed quite engaged.
“What did they repair?” Lily asked.
They arrived at their seats, and Judy entered the row first, checking the numbers against their tickets. They had good seats—far enough away from the center to be able to see almost all of the dome without craning their necks too much.
“I heard they repaired thousands of binoculars,” Francis said. “For the navy.”
“Did you ever use binoculars?” Lily asked.
Francis was in China during the war too, and sometimes Judy wondered if they had ever been in the same place at the same time. She and Francis had discussed it, of course, but it was hard to determine for sure. She asked him, on one of their early dates, if he would have even given her a second look had he seen her in China. Here in America, there weren’t so many Chinese women her age, but in China, the ratio of men to women was normal. He had given her a rather tender look and said, “Of course. I would have noticed you anywhere.” She blushed at his words, and shortly afterward, he kissed her for the first time.
Francis was explaining to Lily that he did remember binoculars in his unit—he had been an engineer in the army—but he didn’t know if any of them were repaired here in San Francisco. “Wouldn’t that be something if they were?” he mused, as if taken by the idea.
* * *
—
The beginning of the show was signaled by the gentle crescendo of violins as recorded music began to play. The lights shifted, and now black cutouts of San Francisco’s skyline became clear all around the periphery of the dome. Everyone leaned back to gaze at the pale glow above, and the projector became a fantastically alien creature silhouetted against a darkening sky.
Stars began to emerge, one by one. Judy shivered as the dome deepened to black, and the stars became so numerous they created a sparkling, depthless universe above. She felt as if she were sinking back into her seat, falling into the gravity well of the earth. And then, as the stars above her moved, depicting their nightly journey across the cosmos, she felt as if she were moving with them. Her stomach lurched and she had to close her eyes for a moment against the motion, but the allure of the vision was too strong, and she opened them again and marveled at the sensation that gripped her. There was no up; there was no down. She was floating, suspended between earth and sky.
A small white disc appeared. It was only the size of a pencil eraser, and then the size of a quarter, and slowly, bit by bit, its true face emerged.
“Welcome to the moon,” the lecturer said as the audience gasped. “We are using state-of-the-art imagery here. This photograph, which we will be exploring in detail, comes directly from the Lick Observatory. You’ll be seeing parts of the moon that very few men have seen before.”
The moon grew in size; it hung above them in a giant black-and-white orb. Huge circular craters dotted the landscape. There were blinding white patches and deep, dark shadows.
“The moon is a world of extremes,” the lecturer continued in his hushed, deep voice. “In the harsh light of the sun, the temperature can easily rise to two hundred degrees Fahrenheit, but simultaneously, in those darkest areas, it can be as cold as two hundred degrees below zero.”
Judy glanced at Lily while the lecturer spoke. Her niece’s face was illuminated by the bright moon above, which was reflected as a tiny black-and-white sphere in her eyes. Her mouth was open slightly. She looked like someone seeing a new world for the first time.
“The surface of the moon might be covered in dust. But we can’t be certain about it until we send someone there to check. Someday, man will be able to travel to the moon in a rocket ship. Once he has reached the surface of the moon, he’ll be able to drive a golf ball a hundred miles with one stroke because the gravity is so light. He’ll be able to jump a dozen feet into the air if he wants. He will feel light as air.”
Judy reached for her husband’s hand. He laced his fingers in hers as they sat together beneath the projection of the moon. She felt an exhilarating distance from the Earth, and yet a comforting closeness to these people she loved. Francis, with his warm hand in hers; Lily, with her awe-stricken face beside her. I am here, Judy told herself silently. This is San Francisco.
* * *
—
After the show, Judy felt light-headed and a bit wobbly on her feet. She linked her arm with Lily’s
as they joined the crowd leaving the museum; everyone seemed a bit wobbly after their trip to the moon and back.
“Do you think that man is right?” Lily asked as they jostled their way outside. “That we can fly to the moon in a rocket ship?”
“It’s a long way off, but yes,” Judy said.
Lily’s face brightened. “How long?”
“Years,” Judy said. “What do you think, Francis?”
“I don’t know. Thirty, forty years? Certainly within your lifetime, Lily.”
Outside the museum, they walked across the wide plaza toward the steps that led down to the street, where taxis waited at the curb. Car engines rumbled to life in the parking lot beyond, their headlights illuminating people walking through the crisp night air.
“Would they really be able to jump so high on the moon?” Lily asked.
“Well, the gravity is much lighter there,” Judy said. “I’m sure I could calculate how high a man could jump.” Judy considered the math and laughed. “Oh, it would be funny to see!”
“They could hop on the moon,” Francis said. “Like a giant bunny rabbit.” He reached the sidewalk and began to hop down it awkwardly, flapping his arms as if he were a seagull.
Judy laughed. Francis was so childlike sometimes; she thought it was his Americanness coming out. “That’s not how it would look!” Judy chided him. “It would be much more graceful.”
“Like what?” he challenged her. “Show me.”
Judy saw several bystanders surreptitiously watching them. “Oh, Francis, I can’t—”
“Why not?” he called. “Come on, there’s plenty of room.”
Judy shook her head, but she slipped her arm out of Lily’s and handed her purse to her niece. “Hold this,” she said. Then, before she could second-guess herself, she elevated her arms as if she were a ballet dancer and lightly leaped across the sidewalk. “Very little gravity,” she called over her shoulder. “Light as a feather!”
