by Nick Lake
“ok,” says my mother.
they wheel her off & Dr. Hendricks follows. so does Boutros. they go thru a white door & out into some other hallway probably.
meanwhile the Dr. in the turban takes me & Grandpa & Comet to another room. he doesn’t say much. he just puts a rod along my forearm & then bandages it up. then he puts on a long carbon fiber glove that goes over my thumb & covers most of my arm up to my elbow. he secures it with Velcro. “try not to move it too much,” he tells me.
“that’s it?” i say.
“that’s it,” he says. “no lateral movement. it’ll heal itself, mostly. just needs to be immobile for a while. waterproof of course. tell us if u need more painkillers.”
then he starts to walk out.
“wait,” i say.
“yes?”
“what about moving around?”
he looks at me blankly.
“my leg, it’s broken too. i was using crutches, but now…” i lift my injured wrist.
the Dr. scratches his chin. “u’ll have to stay in the chair,” he says.
“i have to have someone push me around? how long for?”
he does a side-to-side head wobble thing. “6 weeks?”
i think back to the base. how we couldn’t ever really go anywhere. how trapped i had felt. & that was just a month.
“i’m not going to rely on other people pushing me for another 6 weeks,” i say.
the Dr. is looking me in the eye. i c him soften. “i get it,” he says. “we’ll find u an electric chair.”
“thanks,” i say. & then he does leave.
Grandpa opens the door & pushes me back into the main medical hall. we c Boutros walking over to us. he puts up a hand in greeting when he gets close. Comet growls at him. Boutros’s face registers a flicker of annoyance.
“ur mother will be done in an hour or so,” he says. “we have state-of-the-art facilities up here. she’ll need rest for a few days. but then she’ll be fine.”
“um,” i say, “good.”
“in the meantime, we have a comfortable room overlooking the glacier. u can wait there for her.”
“ok,” i say.
i notice that the men in black suits seem to have melted away. i didn’t really c it happen. it’s just me, Grandpa, & Boutros. & Comet, head cocked to 1 side, who is up on a chair next to a lab worker. the young woman with her hair in a net, standing over a microscope, looks at him with an amused expression. she sees Boutros turn to her, then lowers her head down to her work.
Comet barks, & she flicks her eyes over to him, trying to stifle a smile.
“come on, Comet,” i say. “heel.”
strange thing to say, when u’re in a wheelchair, but he bounds over all the same & follows as Grandpa pushes me behind Boutros, who leads us thru another door to the 1 we came in thru & down a hallway until we reach a door that he opens with a keycard he takes from his pocket.
we go into a room on the outside of the dome. that is: it’s in the outer section, so the wall to our left is just a sheet of glass from floor to ceiling. at the moment, the glass is black & electric lights shine brightly. the room itself is kind of pie-slice-shaped, which makes sense, i suppose, when u’re in an enormous dome. there are sofas & armchairs & personal screens on tables & a big screen on the wall.
Boutros goes over to the wall & taps something on a small keypad there & the glass wall turns frosty, a kind of jeweled icy-opaque effect, then that dissolves & it’s just clear glass. i take a breath. below, the glacier stretches out, racing away down the mountain, riven with cracks. it glows blue in the early-morning light. & below that, smaller mountains & then hills roll downward, lowering all the time, to an undulating brown wilderness, threaded with ribbons of river, that goes all the way to the horizon.
Comet barks like crazy, turning round & round. he goes over to the wall-window & looks out. he barks at the glacier loudly.
“impressive place, isn’t it?” says Grandpa.
“yes,” i say.
“a nice place for a visit. bit far away from the rest of the world tho.” he looks at Boutros as he says this.
“hmm,” says Boutros.
pause.
“of course, u can stay as long as u like, Mr. Freeman,” says Boutros. “u are an honored guest here. an ex-astronaut such as urself. 1 of the last men on the moon.”
Grandpa raises his eyebrows.
again i sense an unspoken conversation.
Boutros clears his throat & moves toward the door. “i’ll bring ur mother to u soon,” he says.
then he goes.
Grandpa rolls me over to the wall, so that i can look out more easily. i c a hawk—maybe even an eagle—circling far, far below. we must be 8,000, maybe 10,000 ft. up here. nearly at the peak of the mountain.
“what is this?” i say to Grandpa. “why are we here?”
he stands beside me. Comet stands between us, head high. we are all looking out at the snow & ice, the impossible drop. the far horizon. “wait for ur mother,” he says.
“i want u to tell me.”
he shakes his head slowly. “i’m just ur grandfather. we’ll wait.” his voice strains. like the words are hard to say, resisting the effort of his vocal cords to shake them from the air.
“u might not want to work with Kyle anymore,” i say. a quick slick twist of bitterness on my tongue. i liked Kyle.
he frowns a question at me.
“i’m pretty sure he told them where to find me. the men with guns. maybe cut the fence for them. they mentioned his name.”
“goddammit,” says Grandpa.
i fall silent.
time passes.
the eagle circles.
the sun moves across the sky, making different parts of the glacier shine & shimmer as it passes.
finally, the door opens & Boutros comes in, pushing my mother ahead of him in her wheelchair, her arm now in a sling. he brings her alongside & we are all there, looking out.
Boutros turns my mother toward me. Grandpa turns my chair too.
“ur electric chair is on its way,” says Boutros.
“thanks,” i say.
silence.
my mother is not looking at the view. she is looking down at her hands.
“go on,” says Grandpa.
she glares at him. then she takes a deep breath. she looks at me, then cuts her eyes down again. “it’s time u knew the truth, Leo,” she says. she pauses, as if expecting me to say something.
“yes,” i say.
another breath. “17 years ago i was working as an astronaut already. i had just done 2 tours in space. i was 28. then the Company called me in for a meeting. they were more closely tied to the government in those days. but it was essentially the same organization as now. we all knew of course that the ultimate goal was to colonize space. i mean, there were teams around the world looking for earthlike planets. & every mission was going a little farther into the solar system.”
pause.
“the water was running out already,” says Grandpa. “the planet was warming up.”
“yes,” says my mother. “the problem was that, for generations, the scientists had been astronomers & physicists. they were interested in slingshotting around planets, that kind of thing. the mechanics of space travel. they didn’t spend a lot of time thinking about the mechanics of reproduction.”
something pings tinnily inside my mind.
she meets my eyes & sighs. “then it occurred to various people. what if we get to some other planet, & we terraform it, & all of that stuff, but we can’t actually have babies.”
jangling, now.
jangling.
i focus on the glacier. its white coldness. its smoothness.
“the Russians sent some geckos up, in a satellite,” she says. “male & female. they all died.”
pause, again.
“they wanted u to have a baby in space,” i say, surprised to hear the words come out of my own mouth.
“yes
,” says my mother. “& not just me. there were 2 other women.” she closes her eyes & rubs them for a second. “we would spend at least a year in orbit. on Moon 2. they used…um…IVF.” another breath. “that was administered in space too, in 0 g. everything about reproduction had to be simulated as closely as possible. to c if it worked. implantation, pregnancy, birth.”
i stare at her.
at the cold hard glacier behind her, flowing in geological time.
“i’m an experiment,” i say. it comes out flat. words stripped of their music, false notes from a broken instrument.
“yes,” she says.
this comes out with a twang, painful, jarring.
a string breaking.
i am thinking, all this time. mind racing. that’s a cliché, of course.
as if minds could race.
“the names,” i say.
“what?” says my mother.
“Leo. Orion. Libra. all constellations.” how could i have been so stupid? how could i have believed that the docs would miss my mother being pregnant before she flew up to the space station? i mean, how could i have been so naïve?
or maybe i just didn’t want to believe.
“uh-huh,” says my mother. “the Company picked the names. it was part of the thing…the mission. it was called the Constellation Mission. only i & Libra & Orion’s mother became pregnant. & i took longer than her…as for the other woman…it never worked.”
the air seems to wait around us, vibrating, every atom of oxygen & hydrogen a struck tuning fork.
“i’m a fucking experiment,” i say. my voice doesn’t sound like my voice.
“i wouldn’t—” my mother starts.
“yes,” says Grandpa.
Boutros clears his throat. “u have to understand, it was a different administration then, & there was a lot of pressure, with climate change &—”
“is that even legal?” i say, ignoring him.
Boutros makes a gesture that says, maybe not.
“& u,” i say to my mother. “they ask u to do this, & u say yes, ok, i’ll have a baby in space just to c if it’s possible?”
she closes her eyes again. “i was loyal to the Company. i was loyal to my job.”
Grandpa kneels next to my chair. “she didn’t know it would be u,” he says. “we didn’t know u then. she didn’t know how she’d feel when u came along.”
“i don’t think she feels anything,” i say.
but a single tear is tracking soundlessly down her cheek.
i don’t care.
i am the ice of that glacier, cracked, in the bare raw sunlight.
“did Virginia know? Lakshmi?” i say. pretty much everyone must have been in on it, i realize. everyone i know. even fucking Santiago, who i only saw on vid for, like, 2 minutes.
“yes,” says Boutros.
simple. straightforward.
i think of them both, making us meals, teaching us, reading to us. & lying all the time.
i look down at Comet. “up here, Comet,” i say, & click my fingers. he jumps up onto my lap. i lift him up, bury my face in his fur, the soft warmth of it. he squirms until i let him go to sit on me, then he licks my hand.
“& what am i doing here?” i say. “in the dome?”
Boutros takes a step forward. “there is…a media problem. Dr. Stearns was…uncomfortable about ur…physical status, when u came down. u & the twins. he wasn’t happy about letting u go. but others…other board members wanted to c how u would accommodate to ordinary life on earth.”
“others including u,” i say.
he doesn’t answer, which is an answer.
“anyway,” he says. “now Dr. Stearns has left us & is talking to the media about the experiment. the people who authorized it are no longer with the Company but…we decided to move the 3 of u here.”
“Libra & Orion are here?”
tiny pause. “yes.”
“so u brought us up here to hide us away,” i say. “so u can sweep the whole thing under the rug. wait for the news to move on to the next scandal.”
“not exactly,” says Boutros.
pause.
“tell him,” says Grandpa.
Boutros blows out air thru his nose. “u’re all…that is…ur physiologies are adapted to space. in that respect the…um…experiment as u call it…was a staggering success. but on earth…ur lung capacities…ur bone densities…it all developed in 0 g. u are better than the others but the doctors when u broke ur leg…they were surprised it was the first bone u had fractured. theoretically u could bump into something & crack a bone.”
“oh,” i say.
“u’re better off than the other 2,” he says again. there’s a tension in his voice. “they have…not fared so well. but all of u…u’re all having to wear eyewear to protect ur corneas.” he points to my sunglasses. i had forgotten about them. they have become second nature now. “ur tendons, ur joints…none of it is built for 1 g. none of it is built for strain. for impact.”
“so…”
“so we brought u here. Dr. Hendricks is of the opinion that the lower pressure, the higher altitude…it might be beneficial. in the long term.”
“in the long term, like…living here?”
he nods.
“but what about school? jobs?”
Boutros makes a face. “let’s cross that bridge when we come to it. the people who dreamed up this idea…they didn’t think very far ahead. no one really envisioned this scenario.”
“what, no one thought we’d still be alive?”
it’s a deliberately provocative question but he considers it. “maybe. i’d like to be clear, i would not have approved Constellation Mission if it was mooted when i was in charge. it predates my employment.”
“that’s a real comfort,” i say.
he has the grace to wince.
then i think about an intonation, a weird tonal pattern in his earlier sentence, about crossing bridges. “we’re not going to live for very long, are we?” i say.
he looks away. “i can’t say,” he says.
wow.
silence.
“how long?” i say.
“no one knows,” says Grandpa. “but ur…skeleton isn’t going to get any better adapted. ur heart either.”
oh my god.
i was an experiment, & now i’m dying here. like a fish, flipping on the shore, uselessly.
no one says anything for what feels like a long time.
“so,” says Boutros. “what do u want to happen now?”
i laugh at this, on the inside anyway. as if i can make anything happen that i want. as if i’m in control of anything. i look at my mother & suddenly i don’t want to be looking at her, maybe ever again. “i want u to go away, Mother,” i say. “just…go.”
“but—” she begins.
Grandpa puts a hand up to her. “let’s go,” he says.
“yes, u too,” i say to him.
he kind of inclines his head at this, but takes Mother’s wheelchair & starts pushing her toward the door. Comet follows them for a moment, shadowing my mother’s wheelchair, & Grandpa looks down at him & says, “no, Comet; stay with Leo.” Comet turns in confusion, then trots back to me. i lower my hand & stroke his head. he makes a sad little whine.
Grandpa keeps pushing my mother toward the door. partway there he stops & turns. “i want u to know,” he says, “i opposed this, in the beginning. but when u came…u were the greatest gift. the greatest of my life. i want u to know that.” then he turns & walks away, taking my mother with him. the door soft-closes behind them, with a shhh.
i turn to Boutros.
“u want me to leave u alone?” he says.
“no,” i say. “i want u to take me to Libra & Orion.”
he straightens. “all right,” he says. “i thought that might…i thought u might want to. u should, um, prepare urself.”
“how?”
he doesn’t answer.
he takes the handles of my wheelcha
ir & pushes me thru the same door my mother & grandpa went thru, then down a succession of hallways.
we come to a door that he opens with his card & then we are in a long, narrow room that is darker toward the end, with a glow coming from some kind of tent. he wheels me forward. we’re back in the medical bay, i realize. there are plug sockets along the walls for medical devices & beds, tho they’re empty, & rails for curtains that aren’t there.
just that glow from the end of the room.
we keep moving.
i c an old lady in front of us, leaning on a walker.
we get closer.
we get closer still.
it’s Libra.
she is clinging on to this structure on wheels that is holding her up & attached to it is an oxygen tank with a tube leading to a mask that hangs around her neck. she is as pale as the moon & i can c her bones thru her skin.
i stare at her, mouth open.
“hi, Leo,” she says. “u look good.”
“u…,” i stammer.
“i know,” she says. “i look smoking, don’t i?” she tries a smile; the effect is ghastly. she coughs & bends over her walker. then she lifts her head again.
“what happened?”
she shrugs, or gives an impression of 1. “gravity,” she says.
i take in the blank walls. the empty beds. the glowing tent that i somehow don’t quite want to look at. “what are u doing in here?” i say.
“visiting my brother,” she says. her voice is raspy. dry. the voice of paper. of papyrus.
i am looking past her now, & i c that what i thought was a tent is in fact some kind of tent, erected over a bed. i point & gesture to show that i want to approach & Boutros rolls me a little closer & i look thru the puffed-out plastic material, like an inflated wall, a transparent bouncy castle, & on the bed inside is a body, lying, the chest rising & falling very slightly, very gently. wires & drips run into the body’s arms.
Boutros rolls me on.
the head turns.
Orion opens his eyes & looks at me.
his cheeks are sunken. his eye sockets are black bruises; collapsed stars.
“oh my god,” i say. “oh my god, Orion.”
