Feeling much more confident about the launch, I stared into the faces of Cecelia, Paul, and Victor. They looked back at me with careful, measured smiles.
“We’re still in business, then,” I announced, “guess I’m going to space on Friday after all.”
Amid Cyber Attack Fallout, Durant Astronautics Confirms Manned Test To Proceed on Schedule
Phillip Paderewski, The Philadelphia Monitor
Just days after a catastrophic data breach that coincided with the successful test launch of the unmanned Starflier 1 spacecraft, Durant Astronautics confirmed this afternoon that they will proceed with the manned test launch on Friday.
Starflier 1, the first commercial spacecraft capable of conveying people to space, has previously undergone three successful unmanned test flights.
“The company continues to investigate the data breach; however, we can now confirm that none of the data accessed was relevant to the test launch of Starflier 1,” Durant Astronautics said in a statement, “as such, we are confident proceeding with our launch schedule as planned.”
In addition, the company confirms that Durant Astronautics CEO, Nathan Breyer, has every intention of personally piloting the test launch. Breyer, a qualified pilot and former NASA astronaut previously piloted the space shuttle to the International Space Station prior to its decommissioning and his own ignominious departure from the military.
In a written statement, Breyer praised his staff’s response to the crisis, “We saw leadership in close collaboration as a team in the hours and days following the data breach that makes me immeasurably proud of the people I work with here at Durant Astronautics. Although we may not be perfect, and this data breach has revealed aspects of our security that are now being improved, we have the brightest minds in the world here at Durant Astronautics. I am excited to see our efforts go to the next level on Friday when Starflier 1 will become the first manned, commercial spacecraft to leave the Earth’s atmosphere.”
Durant Astronautics Security Director Cecelia Salina told reporters the test on Friday would be a closed event, unlike previous launches that permitted large numbers of public spectators. Only press and a small number of VIP’s will be permitted onsite due to security considerations, although the launch will still be livestreamed.
A successful manned test launch will mark a huge step forward for a company that has already managed to shake up the commercial spaceflight industry with its groundbreaking technology.
22
Zoey
“Definitely not that one,” my best friend Nika cried as I pulled a lime green mini dress out and showed it to her over Skype, “that color says, ‘I’m on molly at Coachella’, not ‘I’m on a fancy dinner date like a grownup’.”
I shoved it back into the oblivion of the wardrobe. This was way harder than it ought to be. Nathan said he wanted to take me out on what he termed a ‘proper date’ tonight. The only problem with that was that the diner on Monday had seemed like a proper date to me. Was it not a proper date? What exactly constituted a proper date?
“You need something that conveys clearly that you are gonna fuck him later, but not right there on the table of the restaurant,” Nika advised me as I continued to root around in my meager selection of apparel, “also something classy but not too businesslike. You don’t want to look like you’re at work.”
I was almost out of options. There was only one dress left in my closet, so I hoped Nika thought it was alright. The lime green one had seemed fine to me, which was why Nika picked out most of my clothes for me.
“Ok, how about this?” I asked, pulling the plum-colored chiffon tank dress from its hanger and draping it over my front, “what do you think?”
Nika had just shoved a bite of ice cream into her face, but she gave me two thumbs up in the little picture on the screen.
“Mmmmf!” She said appreciatively, swallowing the ice cream and then adding, “Yep, that’s definitely the one. Put it on.”
Even though Nika lived forever away—she was in Tallahasse, where we’d grown up together—we talked constantly. Thank god for Skype, because I’d never really made friends in Philly and most of my friends from college were now scattered all over the country trying to scrape out a living just like me.
Nika and I, however, had been friends long before college. We were neighbors growing up and went all through school from kindergarten to high school together. I may have technically been an only child, but Nika was basically my sister.
So, I felt perfectly at ease stripping down in front of the camera to put the dress on over my nicest lingerie.
“Perfect!” Nika said, twirling her index finger around for me to spin, “Yep, that makes your big butt look really good. Are you going to wear heels?”
“Yeah, I thought I would,” I told her, “he’s actually tall enough for me to wear them without, you know, making him all insecure.”
That was one of my pet peeves. I’d dated a few guys before that had been intimidated by my height. Personally, being taller than a guy never bothered me. I was taller than most people, obviously. But, there were some men who just couldn’t handle not being the taller one in the relationship for some reason. I was glad I didn’t have that problem with Nathan; although if his confidence was any indication, he probably wouldn’t mind me wearing high heels even if he was shorter.
“Ok,” Nika followed up, “show me which shoes you were thinking.”
I pulled out a few pairs and we went through the pros and cons of each. We ended up selecting a pair of strappy bronze sandals with four-inch block heels. I slipped them on, feeling sleek and sexy in my demure dress and long silver earrings I’d selected. I’d put my hair up in a French twist at Nika’s instruction, securing it with a bunch of bobby pins until it looked effortless.
“Am I ready?” I asked her, looking into the camera with apprehension.
“Of course, you are,” she replied soothingly, “I think you look super-hot.”
Nika was a neonatal nurse in a hospital in Tallahasse. She took care of tiny, sick babies all day, so I think seeing me getting stressed out over such silly things as dates or bills always just baffled her. I could never do her job.
“I saw on the news that your Mr. Nathan Breyer is going to be the test pilot on Friday,” Nika ventured, “what do you think of him literally blasting himself into space in two days?”
I shrugged.
“He’s done it before,” I replied, “and I think he knows what he’s doing.”
“You don’t think it’s kind of weird? I mean, isn’t he more of business man now? There was somebody on MSNBC that said he was an ‘egomaniac of epic proportions’ to do it himself. Other people said he was brave. I just think it’s kind of strange to think that you’re going to dinner with somebody who’s going to be in space in 72 hours.”
“Actually,” I replied tartly, “he should be back on the ground in 72 hours. He’s only supposed to be up there for like 20 minutes.”
“Hmm,” Nika said noncommittally, “I see you haven’t been thinking about it all. So, what’s he like?”
I felt myself blush and hoped the poor-quality video hid it.
“He’s nice,” I said in a small voice, “and I really like him.”
“Oh no,” Nika said, rolling her eyes, “you’re already in love with him, aren’t you?”
“No!” I answered defensively, “I’m not in love with him. I just like him. Is that so wrong?”
“Of course not,” Nika said, frowning at me as she took her next bite of ice cream as she considered her next words, “I just think you should be careful. Don’t fall in love with somebody too quickly.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied dryly.
Nika had married her college sweetheart and lived in blissful matrimonial security down in Florida. She didn’t understand. I lived from paycheck to paycheck, so the immediacy of an affair like this didn’t necessarily seem too unbelievable to me. When you’re just scraping around to get by, you t
ake happiness where you can find it. I didn’t have time to be careful because I never knew what the future would throw at me. Did I know my heart was going to get smashed to smithereens? Yes, of course. Did I care? Not remotely.
23
Nathan
“My brother David recommended this place,” I told Zoey as we left the car with the valet and headed into the low light of the romantic little French bistro, “so if it’s godawful, blame him and not me.”
“Your brother, the celebrity chef guy?” Zoey asked, looking around the restaurant to take in the white tablecloths, candlelight, and roses on each table.
“That’s the one,” I replied, grinning, “and if you ever meet him, please be sure you lead with that. He hates being called a celebrity chef, even though he definitely is one. He thinks its tacky and undermines his art. He prefers to think of himself as a serious chef.”
“Doesn’t he have, like, a talk show?” Zoey asked skeptically, and I grinned.
“He’s about to. It’s in development. He sort-of fell into his success on TV. I’m not sure he quite knows what to do with it.”
“Yeah that must be so terrible,” Zoey said sarcastically. She rolled her eyes and we shared a smile. “Poor baby.”
Zoey looked phenomenal tonight. She was wearing a sleeveless dark purple dress that showed off her long, creamy-white arms and statuesque figure. Zoey could easily have been a fashion model with her looks and height but imagining her slinking down a runway as a human hanger would have been an enormous waste of her brain and talents. I’d dated plenty of models who weren’t completely stupid, but they definitely wouldn’t have made it into Columbia either. Zoey would have been bored to tears if they’d been her coworkers. The fact that I’d ever wasted time with women like them now made me feel vaguely ashamed. I should have been out there looking everywhere for Zoey.
“How was your photoshoot with Angelica today?” I asked as we settled into a table in a quiet corner.
Zoey grimaced and then put on a sarcastically huge, bright smile.
“Oh my god, it was so much fun!” She cried in a frighteningly good impression of Angelica’s breathy squeal, earning our table a couple of surprised looks from the surrounding tables, “and we laughed and drank sparkling coconut water and took fun pictures all afternoon!”
I recoiled and then laughed. Seeing Zoey relaxed and happy again after the nightmare from yesterday felt like a miracle. I hadn’t been able to stand making her unhappy. Never before had someone else’s mood been so important to my own wellbeing.
“It wasn’t really that bad,” she continued in her normal voice, “I think we got the pictures needed for the cover feature. The agreement with Angelica gives her veto power, unfortunately, so I might be out there again tomorrow morning reshooting if she doesn’t like the proofs. How was your day?”
“Way better than yesterday,” I was happy to report, “we confirmed that there was no corruption of the test data. Barring some new disaster, I’m going to space on Friday.”
Zoey shot me a bemused smile.
“Doesn’t it scare you?” She asked, “I don’t even like rollercoasters.”
I shook my head.
“It’s scary, sure, but it’s worth it. One day, maybe, you’ll get to see for yourself. You’ve been on a plane, right? It’s not that different.”
“No, I haven’t been on a plane,” she replied, shrugging, “I’m not that scared of them, I’ve just never had a reason to. It was always cheaper to drive or take a train.”
The thought of Zoey never having been on a plane reminded me of a question that David asked at lunch.
“Zoey,” I asked, half afraid to hear the answer, “how old are you?”
“Don’t you know that’s one of the three forbidden questions?” She replied tartly, arching her eyebrows at me over the edge of her menu. I suspected she was hiding a smile behind it.
“The what?”
“The three forbidden questions that a gentleman should never ask a lady, obviously: how old she is, whether or not she’s pregnant, and when did she know her husband was cheating on her.”
I smirked, and she giggled playfully.
“Obviously none of those could possibly apply to you in a negative way. Seriously, how old are you?” I repeated, “I’ll go first if you want. Thirty-two.”
“I’m twenty-four, why? Were you worried I was underage?”
“I’m just curious. My dumb brother was giving me grief over dating someone younger.”
“What did you tell your brother about me?” She asked, looking nervous.
“Only good things,” I told her reassuringly, “I promise. Really.”
Our conversation was interrupted a moment later by a stranger approaching with a tape recorder and a little notebook. Press.
“Nathan Breyer?” The man asked, “I’m Phillip Paderewski from the Philadelphia Monitor. Any comment on your upcoming launch or the data breach at Durant Astronautics?”
I hated when people from the press did this. The journalist was younger. His face said late twenties, but his hairline said early forties. Averaged out, it probably put him somewhere around my age. Still, he apparently hadn’t learned that if you were going to ambush someone in a restaurant, you were supposed to wait until they were leaving. It’s basic etiquette.
“Hey Phil,” Zoey answered grumpily before I could tell him to go away, “can you not? We’re at dinner.”
The man did a double take.
“Zoey?! Holy crap. I didn’t know you were still in town.”
She shrugged and frowned at him.
“I am,” she replied politely, “but can you please go away?”
“Are you still working for that awful, trashy tabloid?” He asked snidely, and Zoey’s frown deepened. I could only imagine that this wasn’t the most comfortable situation for her. This guy would have been a former coworker of hers.
“Gotta’ pay the rent,” she replied simply. She stared at him expectantly, raising her eyebrows and clearly ready for him to go away. I was too.
“You know,” Paderewski—Phil—asked me snidely, “Zoey used to write for the Monitor before she became a gossip columnist? You might want to be careful around her. She’s blood-thirsty.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied blandly. This guy was kind of a jerk. “Don’t quote me on that,” I added.
“I saw your cover feature the other month on Khloe Kardashian’s shoe collection,” Phil continued to Zoey, “I saw it in a New York drug store when I was down there covering the most recent UN security council meeting. That must have been an exciting piece. Do you miss being a real journalist?”
“Do you miss being a half-decent human being?” She fired back, and I covered my smirk, “Besides, last I heard the Monitor was about to be acquired by GBH. I saw the press release just last week. You made it through the last round of layoffs, but once GBH comes in nobody will be safe. You’re a dead man walking. Enjoy your superiority while it lasts.”
That touched a nerve, although I had no idea what it meant. A muscle in Phil’s flushed cheek jumped and he grimaced. He puffed up like she’d just insulted his manhood and straightened his jacket primly.
“I don’t have any comment,” I interjected at that point, and Phil nodded curtly and walked away in a bit of a huff.
Zoey and I looked at one another across the romantic little table. The mood was ruined.
24
Zoey
I’d never liked Phil. He was a few years older than me and already working at the Monitor when I’d started my internship there during my junior year at Columbia. He’d seemed nice enough at first, but then he started hitting on me, making sure I was always assigned to shadow him on assignments, hovering near my desk, and just generally being a creep. Sexual harassment is so pervasive in journalism that you have to just get used to it. It’s a challenge to be overcome on an individual basis, not a problem that can be solved on a meta level. At least he never touched me and had the good sen
se to back off when I shut him down as well as I could. Still, he made it clear that it would cost me.
When the time came for layoffs, that bill came due. I was laid off just weeks after I’d graduated and been formally hired by the paper. It totally crushed me. Whether or not Phil actually had anything to do with my name appearing on that list I’ll never know. But I do know that he’s an ass.
“I’m sorry about that,” I said to Nathan, not knowing what else to say.
“You didn’t ask him to come over and interrupt us,” Nathan replied kindly, reaching out and grasping my hand over the table. I smiled weakly.
“I actually feel a bit bad for creepy old Phil,” I admitted, shaking my head, “I mean, I really don’t like him, but he’s about to be out of a job.”
“Is that what you meant about the Monitor being acquired?” Nathan asked curiously.
“Yeah,” I said and smiled maliciously, although the feeling was short lived, “the company that’s probably going to end up buying the paper, GBH, specializes in purchasing struggling local papers. They basically cut the staff down to bare bones and then continue to milk the paper for a couple of years, stuffing it up with ads. Eventually the paper folds, but GBH’s model both keeps the paper limping along and maximizes ad revenue for as long as possible. No actual journalism gets done. They just run syndicated news and editorials. Sometimes the papers bounce back, but most of the time they declare bankruptcy not too long after acquisition. There’s a name for those papers in the industry. We call them Zombie Papers.”
“I see,” Nathan replied, “that’s what you meant about Phil being a dead man walking. Even if he survives the acquisition, he’ll mostly be hitting copy and paste.”
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