The Cardboard Spaceship (To Brave The Crumbling Sky Book 1)

by Matt Snee

  Absentmindedly, she reached into her pockets for her cigarettes. She had picked up the habit from her father, who had smoked viciously. She knew on Earth it was generally frowned upon, and she worried now that Captain apparently disapproved of it. Starting after her parents had died, she never had to apologize to anyone for it and had smoked by her lonesome for eighteen years without bothering anybody.

  “I know it's loathsome,” she commented. Did she?

  “My dad smoked,” Captain said. “It reminds me of him.”

  “I see,” she said, lighting her cigarette and exhaling loudly.

  “You should quit,” Captain suggested.

  “I guess you're right,” Jennifer laughed. “It's just like the only thing that helps me feel less anxious.”

  “What are you anxious about?”

  “I'm just always anxious. Every second of the day. For no reason.”

  “I guess I'm anxious too, sometimes,” Captain admitted.

  “I just have a hard time being still,” Jennifer explained. “The only time I don't want a cigarette is when I'm in hideous danger.”

  “And when's that?”

  “On occasion,” she said, mysteriously.

  Captain did not reply, curious about what she meant.

  “Tell me more about your books.” Jennifer blew out smoke.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Where do your ideas come from?”

  “Oh,” he said. “I don't know…”

  “I'm really curious about that,” she continued.

  “Don't you have ideas?”

  “Not like yours.”

  “Do you write?”

  “I do.”

  “Stories?” he asked.

  “No. Poetry. Memories. Impressions.”

  “I like poetry,” Captain told her. “But I don't write it. Never could.”

  “It pleases me,” Jennifer said. “I like to remember things that way. In pretty words.”

  It impressed Captain that she wrote, and he smiled. He couldn't understand people who didn't.

  * * *

  “This is it,” he said as they arrived at his mother's house. “Do you want to come in?”

  “Of course,” she said, smiling again—for real—her eyes bright. “I have to … ah, use the restroom.”

  They walked up the front steps of an old, brick house. He opened the door and let her into the house, which had been part of the family since the beginning.

  “Hey, Mom!” Captain announced once he was inside.

  His mother's groggy voice returned from down the hall. “Captain, is that you?” Her sleep weary voice sounded like she had been napping.

  “I have a visitor, Mom,” Captain said. He looked at Jennifer, who stood quietly in the entry hall.

  His mother kept the house spic-and-span and her makeup always on in case of unexpected visitors, even if they were extremely rare. “Hi,” she said to Jennifer as she came down the hall. Captain's mother was in her early seventies, but still spry. She was a little overweight and she had short, gray hair and a birdlike but kind face.

  “Hi,” Jennifer said warmly, glowing in the sunlight coming in off the street.

  Captain closed the door behind them. “Jennifer has to use the bathroom,” he told his mother.

  “Of course.” She pointed to a door. “Right there, my dear.”

  “Thank you.” Jennifer entered the bathroom and closed the door, smiling. She didn't really need to go to the bathroom. She just needed a reason to get into Captain's house. She couldn't believe she had gotten this far. Maybe there's hope after all, she thought, as she looked at herself in the mirror. She had come so far, at great risk, for him, for all of this. Now she had to finish the plan.

  She flushed the toilet and washed her hands. It will be okay. It will be okay, she thought.

  When she came out of the bathroom, she found Captain and his mother sitting together in the kitchen. And at that moment Jennifer knew it would work out, as long as she had the courage needed. She looked at Captain in shock. It's him, she thought. It's real! She took in the sight of him: his rounded nose and ruddy skin, the unkempt curls of brown hair perched atop his head, his full lips and blue eyes, his sky blue short-sleeved shirt buttoned incorrectly.

  Captain cleared his throat. “Would you like some tea?” he asked Jennifer.

  “Yes, I would,” she replied. “Thank you. You are both so kind.”

  There was a seat pushed out at the table for her. She smiled and sat. The three of them stared at each other in polite flashes. The tea kettle on the stove began to whistle. Captain got up and took it from the stove, pouring the hot water into three cups.

  Captain's mother obviously knew that Captain wouldn't know what to say to this girl he had invited into their home. She had to help. “My son says you're not from around here. Where are you from?”

  Captain handed her a tea. “Oh,” Jennifer said, laughing. “A long way.” She didn't want to lie.

  “From India?” Athra asked.

  Jennifer nodded. “Let's just say I'm a long way from home.”

  “Are you hungry?” Athra asked.

  “Yes,” Jennifer said. Suddenly famished.

  “Captain will make you something to eat,” said Athra. “Won't you, Captain?

  “Ah … sure,” said Captain. “Do you like tuna fish?”

  She had never had it before. “Yes, I love it.” The lie almost got stuck on her tongue.

  “Okay,” he said. “Just give me a few minutes and I'll make you a sandwich.”

  “Thank you so much.” Her stomach grumbled in agreement.

  “Would you like to see my garden?” Athra asked.

  “Yes, I would. Very much so.” It's just like they said it would be, Jennifer thought. Everything was clicking along according to the plan. It was all set. The promise had been kept. Happiness fluttered up inside her like butterflies—happiness and terror.

  They had an appointment to keep.

  3. Roses and Tuna

  God is a million gentle breaths, and behind that: teeth.

  Lewis Darby, “The Path to Her Infinity”

  Out of routine, Captain turned on the radio. He listened to it when he cooked; swing music was his favorite. Sure enough, a chiming horn, rapid drums, and an airy singing voice came into the kitchen, instantly transforming the mood around them. From some distant room somewhere back in the past, out there in the wide world beyond this, sound echoed through time and carried into their small kitchen.

  White light came in through the window from the backyard. He sighed quietly yet happily as his mother and Jennifer exited the kitchen out the back screen door, and he watched them as his mother pointed out her garden.

  He wondered how long Jennifer would be staying in town, and if she had a boyfriend. She was certainly beautiful; beautiful girls always had boyfriends. She was smart too and kind. It was a strange serendipity, he thought, to know she sought him out because of his books, which he frankly thought no one really cared about, save a few sci-fi fanatics like himself. He guessed that sci-fi fanatics could be pretty and charming as well.

  * * *

  “These are my roses,” Athra told Jennifer as they meandered through the backyard. “They're my pride.”

  Athra was an artist like her son, though she did not know it. Instead of paints or words or musical notes, she crafted her garden, cradling plants and dirt in her fingers, pouring water from pitchers and hoses, and by way of this, sparking a whole ecosystem that revolved around her. Her plants and flowers called insects and birds to them, and they nested in the backyard, where they drank from her bird baths and ate upon her garden, which both thrilled and infuriated her.

  Jennifer had never seen beauty like this before and was amazed that a human could so pleasantly craft art out of flowers and bushes and trees. There had been gardens on Jupiter and Saturn, which she had visited as a child, and her own mother had nurtured a frail, somewhat ugly garden back at the Devasthanam, but this wa
s something altogether divine.

  “It's so pretty,” she told Athra, and then a terrible thought struck her, and she quickly wondered how much time was left. Wouldn't this time be spent better between mother and son? Why did God decree that these last moments would be Jennifer bearing witness to Athra and her garden in this pleasant late afternoon sun?

  She quickly remembered that life was full of facts and knowledge and images, but little understanding. And what understanding we did glean was usually just foolish beliefs and mythology we built up of ourselves and the world around us. Nothing makes sense, Jennifer thought. Why should I?

  Smiling brighter, she asked Captain's mother and more questions about the flowers and trees, asking their names and where they came from, and Athra was more than happy to answer. A particular strain of rose caught her attention, and Jennifer bent to adore it.

  “Oh, what's that jewel?” Athra asked her.

  “What? Oh!” Jennifer reached up to where her necklace had fallen out of her blouse and caught the sun. Be careful, Jennifer told herself. You're about to give yourself away.

  The necklace held a true wonder of the solar system: a ranaadamtrix—a wish jewel from the era of the Owls. There had only ever been a few, and this, her inheritance, was no doubt unlike anything an earthling like Athra had seen before.

  She pushed it back into place and smiled. “Oh, nothing. Just a gift from my mother.”

  * * *

  They were interrupted by the sound of the screen door opening. “It's ready, Jennifer.”

  “Bring it out here, for the picnic table,” Athra suggested. “The weather is so nice.”

  “Good idea.” Captain disappeared back into the house.

  When he came back out he was carrying the tuna sandwich on a plate along with a cool glass of water. He walked down the back steps and placed these on the picnic table, where Jennifer sat and smiled up at him.

  “Thank you!” she exclaimed, biting into the sandwich, hoping it would calm her nerves.

  “You're welcome,” he said gladly. He stretched his own legs underneath the picnic table to sit and rubbed his hands together. “How is it?”

  “It's great,” she said, mouth full.

  “He's quite the cook,” said Athra. “Quite the catch!”

  “Mom,” said Captain, annoyed.

  Jennifer giggled with tuna in between her teeth.

  “I'm just telling the truth,” said Athra. “No one is up front about things in this world anymore. Back in my day you said what you were thinking.”

  “Okay, okay, Mom,” said Captain.

  Jennifer continued to laugh, somewhat pretending she was more amused than she was. Time was ticking away, and here she was having a sandwich.

  There was a moment of awkward silence, but it was Captain's mother who alleviated it. “Tell me,” she said. “What do you do, Jennifer?”

  “Me?” Jennifer asked. “I …research.”

  “Research what?” Captain wondered.

  “The past, mostly, the ancient past. I'm into history.”

  “And yet you love my son's books, which are most often about the future?”

  “Well,” Jennifer chuckled. “It's all the same story in the long run, now isn't it?”

  “Yes,” Captain's mother mused. “Yes, I suppose it is…”

  Jennifer smiled at the old woman. She felt sorry for Captain's mother. She wished there was something she could do for her.

  * * *

  At first, although man continually tries to subdue them, the turbulent senses tear at his mind and violently carry it away. Restraining the senses, disciplined, he should focus his whole mind on God; when the senses are in his control, that man is a man of firm wisdom.

  These were the words from the Bhagavad Gita, the ancient teachings of the Hindu god Krishna. This was what resonated in Jennifer's head at all times—this memorized text that her mother had forced upon her as a child and that she considered at any moment when she was confused.

  Krishna's teaching continued:

  If man keeps dwelling on sense-objects, attachment to them arises, from attachment, desire flares up; from desire, anger is born; from anger, confusion follows; from confusion, weakness of memory; weak memory—weak understanding; weak understanding—ruin.

  Ruin. Ruin awaited the three of them.

  * * *

  Meanwhile, the light of the strange astronomical phenomenon lingered above them, forgotten, but not completely. Wind rustled the leaves of the trees, and the sun took on that late spring afternoon hue of pure platinum, giving the colors of the world a steady light. Yet doom hid among all this, waiting, crouched, claws bared.

  Captain smiled though in the new light. He felt as though some new window had been opened in the room of his heart.

  Jennifer ate ravenously. Worried as she was, she had not eaten since the day before and she was famished. Earth food was both marvelous and hideously strange to her; she had not eaten an animal in years, and the taste was both injurious and satisfying. Then there was the water, which was also imperviously weird: sweeter than the water at the Devasthanam, thicker, filled with strange life and chemicals, all adding up to a taste that smacked at her tongue and slipped down her throat.

  “So,” said Captain's mother, having no idea what awaited, “why aren't you married, Jennifer? You're certainly pretty…”

  “Mom…” Captain muttered, rolling his eyes, embarrassed—again.

  “OK, I'm sorry,” said Athra. “Me and my mouth, phew!”

  Captain was terribly embarrassed and imagined the world poised to embarrass him further. He looked at Jennifer, who tossed him the strangest look in return, and he smiled back at her, confused but ecstatic.

  * * *

  “What do you think of the lights in the sky?” Athra asked Jennifer, moving on.

  “Oh, it's… I don't know,” Jennifer said. What do I tell them?

  “My son seems to think they're beautiful, some sign of something. I find them quite frightening to be honest. It's worse at night; they're brighter than the moon. And the light they cast …it isn't quite red, but it isn't quite not-red either. It's just kind of a burnt color of some sort. Reckless.”

  “I'm sure it's just …nothing,” Jennifer told her. “Just a passing phenomenon, nothing to worry about.”

  “Sometimes I think I can even hear it when I'm dreaming,” Captain's mother continued. “I've dreamt of it three nights in a row now.”

  “Me too,” said Captain thoughtfully.

  Me three, thought Jennifer. “Well, there's no telling what it could be,” she said, knowing all too well what it was—at least as far as anyone could. How can I lie to them like this? She asked herself. They have no idea what's coming. It isn't fair, how could God allow this, what is the point of any of it?

  I hate it.

  “I've always fantasized about going into outer space,” Captain said. He smiled. “As I guess you could probably imagine from my books.”

  Jennifer smiled back, knowing in her heart he would soon get his wish. She had finished her sandwich and water and her nerves had calmed after all.

  “Would you like some coffee now, Jennifer?” Captain's mom asked.

  “Uh …sure,” Jennifer said, not knowing what else to say. She had never had coffee before. It was something her father and mother had never kept at the Devasthanam, both preferring sluggish sobriety. “I'll have some,” she finished.

  “Okay. Captain?” Athra stood, lifting her old body into the air with some effort, but without regret.

  “Sure, Mom,” he said.

  She made her way back into the house, leaving Captain and Jennifer alone. A moment of silence passed, then Jennifer spoke.

  “Thank you so much for dinner,” she said. “I was really hungry…”

  “I could tell.” Captain chuckled. “I'm glad you liked it.”

  “It was very good. You're both …so kind.” What a terrible calm before the storm, Jennifer thought. But we must take our blessings wh
en we find them, I guess. She wondered what kind of universe would allow these minutes of plain bliss while the end of everything loomed across the sky and a curious monster lurked beyond their sight. But God does not act, he never acts except for his one action; he allows everything, permits everything, and there's only …us. Jennifer dug into her pockets and pulled out a cigarette, out of habit, not thinking of her surroundings, only thinking of her terrible addiction.

  She could feel Captain watching her and turned but did not look him in the eye. “Do you mind?” she asked, showing him the cigarette.

  “No, of course not,” Captain told her.

  She pulled out her lighter—her father's lighter—and lit the smoke, exhaling loudly, happy in the smallest way. “I know it's stupid,” she said. “It's just something I do.”

  “Don't worry about it,” Captain said. “I understand.”

  * * *

  Captain's mother came back out with the coffee. If she noticed Jennifer smoking, she revealed no sign of it. Captain figured his mother didn't care; in her time everyone had smoked. Public distaste with the vice was a fairly recent development in the history of mankind.

  “Here you go.” Captain's mother handed a steaming cup to each of them. “I'll be right back with the cream and sugar.”

  “Okay,” said Jennifer, not quite knowing what she meant. She had no experience with the rituals of coffee. She took a sip of the hot beverage and winced. It was bitter!

  Captain placed his own cup down, waiting for the cream. His thoughts dwelled for a moment on how nice the weather was, and he almost spoke of it but realized perhaps Jennifer would be disappointed with such banal discussion. Instead, he sighed and took in a quick glance of this stranger, luxuriating in her presence, suddenly considering the future and what would happen next.

  “So,” he asked. “How long will you be in Kalansket?”

  “Oh, not long.” She took a drag of her smoke and tried to think of a sane answer. “A couple days, I guess.”