“We’re troglodytes now,” Margaret would say. “We live in a roofless cave and wear furs. We eat nuts and berries and occasionally some protein when we find it. I’m glad we don’t have to hunt for it though. All the provisions seem to replenish themselves.”
Fortunately, there was also a ready supply of paper, pens, and pencils. They stayed busy recording and drawing. They no longer hoped for any lasting documentation since everything they had done before had been lost. If they were ever to have an opportunity to restore the Henson Garden, it would have to be based on memory, and on the book.
One “night” brought them more than a darkened room. The vaulted ceiling displayed a vast star field and some of the stars were streaking past.
“Wow! This is amazing!” cried Margaret.
“I wonder if this is a projection, or if this is real. Suppose we're in a space ship of some sort traveling faster than light speed.”
“So you’re saying, speculating actually, that we got drawn into our own personal spaceship.”
“Our own personal starship.”
“Going…where?”
Margaret spoke, “There was an artist who lived in the 19th century. He created wonderful, colorful paintings that were brilliant and passionate. His name was Vincent Van Gogh. One of his most vivid and memorable paintings was called Starry Night. I remember a quote. He said, ‘For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.’ Is that what we’re doing now, Joseph? Dreaming, as the stars go by?”
With this, the usually taciturn Joseph Jayden had become uncharacteristically reverent. He was almost whispering when he said, “We do know nothing…with certainty. But when we dream of the stars, we do have sight. We have vision. We have a meaning where there is none. The chanters had it wrong. There is a meaning to where we are. I suppose they sent us on our way to find that out.”
“We also found each other,” Margaret added.
“Yes, we did. Yes….”
His voice trailed and so did the stars above their heads. Their movement had become faster, more intense, brighter, bright electric streaks that seemed to surround all of their room. They felt…stretched…and larger. They were rubber bands pulled tight, or balloons that grew in size while becoming thinner but holding more. When the streaming would stop, they would be in a different place. A place, heretofore, unimaginable.
∆∆∆
They had become unimaginably tiny, when the streaming stopped. While streaming, their waveform had occupied a majority of the galaxy called on Earth the Milky Way. And now that they had snapped back, they were so small a billion of them could fit in an atom. Where they had arrived was smaller than the smallest of subatoms. Nothing they had known about time and space had any meaning here.
And yet, as small as they had become, as small as was the personal space that held their consciousness so far beneath the threshold of quanta, there were smaller realms to which they could not go. Those realms led to infinity, and no individuals could ever dwell there.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Back to the Lorry
The light slowly brightened. Or maybe it was their minds. A control panel greeted them with flashing lights. They felt their restraints holding them to their seats and heard the low hiss of cabin air and idling engines.
“We’re back to the lorry.” Joseph proclaimed the obvious in a thoroughly astonished manner.
“We’re on the moon. But there’s nothing here,” Margaret said.
Indeed there was no crater, no radiation, no Pickering ship. The PSV remained tucked into the back of the lorry as if it had never been used. Neither its logs, or that of the lorry, showed any passage of time from when they had first arrived. It was as if nothing had happened. Yet, everything had.
“Jayden, come in. This is Gunning, come in.”
“Joseph here. We are on the surface, at the…location.”
“Did you find anything? We never had any indication of interference, but we have been trying to reach you ever since you displayed a touchdown.”
“There’s nothing here…nothing usual.”
“So there’s no wreck of any sort. And no unusual radiation at that location.”
“I’m detecting no anomaly. No…nothing unusual at this location.”
“Did you find an uncharted crater?”
Joseph paused. He was trying to answer Gunning’s basic questions in as routine a manner as possible, but he felt as if he were lying. This was a story he was making up.
“There’s no crater here. The terrain is featureless, unremarkable.”
“How is Dr. Yeardsley? Does she have other plans? Other sites?”
“I am fine, Mr. Gunning. I’m not missing or dead.”
“Oh, well, yes, I’m glad of that Dr. Yeardsley. Has your trip been satisfactory?”
“It has served me beyond my wildest dreams.”
“Good. Good. Will you be returning then? We can use that lorry.”
“We’re returning now, Win. Over and out.”
And that was it. The lorry rose from the lunar surface and headed back to Moon Base Alpha at something a little slower than usual speed. Joseph and Margaret did not speak a word.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Shilling
Cara Shilling, the moonbase commander, entered. Joseph and Margaret rose to meet her.
“Remain seated. Remember not to jump up too fast here.”
“Oh, we’ve had our…experiences already. Adjusting movements and the like.”
Margaret Yeardsley remained silent, and glum. She knew there would be repercussions from her failed mission.
“I’ve prepared a list of expenses for which we expect reimbursement from your institution, Dr. Yeardsley. We do need you to release the lorry if you are done with it. We need to use it for other purposes as soon as possible.”
“I’ve completed my mission here.” She looked at Joseph, sadly but briefly. It had become important to disguise the intensity of the relationship that had developed between them in what was, to others, a very short time.
“I have to admit that I find it surprising, Dr. Yeardsley, that you have limited your project to that one doubtful site. It only existed as an anomalous reading in Mr. Jayden’s personal space machine. Otherwise, you went to a lot of trouble to visit a completely unremarkable place.”
Margaret suppressed a sigh. She wanted to blurt out how completely remarkable the place had been. It had met her project criteria and then taken them to the edges of space and time. But now there was no evidence, nothing to convince anyone that her recent experiences were any more than a delusion that oddly she shared with a lorry pilot.
“I can’t fully explain the parameters of my project. It was a policy decision. I needed to explore this particular site. I have done so. My project here has concluded.” Far from it, thought Yeardsley. I still have to rebuild a garden on earth. How will I justify that one?
“Then you’ll be arranging your return to earth soon? There might even be a seat available tomorrow if you hurry.”
“I would like to remain another day or two. I have reports to do. I’d like some downtime also.”
“Very well. It’s at your discretion as long as Cartwright, or you, are picking up the tab. Mr. Jayden, what are your plans?”
“I…I want to return to the far side. Going there, alone, was my original intention, although I prefer to be there during its night.”
“Then you may obtain the proper permits and return when you’d like. I understand that your PSV is in good shape? You even took it with you as a backup.”
“Yes, it’s fine. I’ll have it checked out and do a retrial before I go.”
“Then we are finished here. Oh…but one thing…and this is none of my business even though I am the director here…but am I wrong in seeing a certain, uh, familiarity between the two of you? You seem to have ‘hit it off’, so to speak, really well for such a short time.”
“Uh, well, Dr. Yeardsley is jus
t really nice. We got along fine.”
“Mr. Jayden has been very…professional. Efficient. And kind. He’s a kind man, thoughtful, courteous.” Margaret remained as unemotional as possible.
“I see,” said Cara Shilling, barely concealing a faint but mischievous smile. “Have a good day.”
“Thank you.”
“Thanks.”
Joseph actually blew a sigh of relief when Shilling left the room. Then he looked around to see if any cameras were apparent.
Margaret imperceptibly dug her fingertips into her thighs and clinched her jaw. She finally breathed after several seconds.
“How are we going to deal with this?” she asked.
“I’m going back to the site. In my PSV. Do you want to come with me? I know you can squeeze.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The Ship
Joseph and Margaret together stood on the lunar surface on the former site of a crater and a spaceship that had vanished. Joseph’s PSV waited nearby for their easy departure.
“Okay, I’m detecting nothing unusual here. No radiation or unusual chemistry. This thing shows a lot of information, but none of it is surprising.”
“Does that surprise you, Joseph? It’s as if we both shared a hallucination. Part of the time I feel like a fool, and the rest of the time I am angry.”
“Oh, I’m angry all right. We went through a lot, and now the surface of the moon is telling us we’ve lost our minds. I know what I found when I flew over this spot. I know what we went through when we docked with that ship.”
“At least you don’t have an embarrassing report to write.”
“Is it really all that embarrassing?” A strange voice emanated from their headsets, inside their moon helmets. Joseph and Margaret almost lost their footing when they spun to search for an origin and found nothing.
“Yes, it was here of course. In reality, in your minds. Which really is saying, in the same place.”
“Where are you?
“If you must see something….” Another spin, more carefully executed than the previous, put them visor to face with a man in an antique United States Air Force uniform, no spacesuit, no space helmet. He night as well have been walking on a sandy beach as in the lunar dust. The sun shone brilliant on the dark blue of his uniform and cap. It gleamed on his medals and his silver eagles.
“I’m Col. Drake. You’ve met me before. We/I thought you might need some guidance.”
“How can you be…without a moonsuit?” Joseph was thinking back to the previous sighting. He felt very confused. Margaret stared silently.
“I don’t need one. And neither do you.”
∆∆∆
Joseph felt sand between his bare toes. He felt a warm breeze and a hint of salt in the air. Margaret evidenced only a blank, introspective expression, not able to make such stunning transitions. She did look stunning in a bright turquoise bikini. Joseph felt embarrassed by his surfer trunks with tiny starfish.
The sunlight blinded them until they stepped ahead into a giant shadow.
Above them loomed the massive hulk of what had once been a great cruise ship, its decks and funnels towering above a rusted and barnacle-covered hull. Much of the hull was buried deep in sand. There was a slight list to port. Immediately ahead was an open door, an invitation to them, once again, to what they could only wonder.
Without question they stepped into the ship and began to climb upward.
The slope of each deck was only slight, and walking, with bare feet, was not difficult. They climbed past cabins, past lifeboats, past openings and balconies until they reached a large deck open to the air. A large enclosure had once held water, but it was now long dry. What the swimming pool did hold was…an AG!Super. Specifically, it was Joseph’s PSV.
Their lips formed the word how. The word itself was not spoken. It had been asked too many times, and it no longer possessed any power to question.
“I guess I should explore some. Before we leave.”
Leave to where, Joseph thought. But his PSV was here so it must mean leaving to somewhere. It always had before. That is what PSVs were for, and it was what he always did with one.
∆∆∆
Margaret stood still, but her eyes were rapid. She was cataloging sights by memory. What a marvelous ruin, she thought. The ship appeared to be early 21st century, probably marooned by pirates during the world-wide uprisings of the water wars.
Joseph and Margaret eventually made their way into the open bridge where everything was smashed, in shambles, and smeared with rust and what once could have been blood.
There was evidence of great upheaval, of a severely aggressive attack. The controls of this ship had been destroyed. The ship was not only marooned, but it had been dead for a long time.
There were shops on a lower deck. Joseph and Margaret once again found new, to them, attire. Slacks and shirt now covered their swimsuits. They found comfortable shoes with non-skid soles.
Some of the cabins showed signs of struggle. The large dining area was completely destroyed, rusted, and stained.
“This is the DreamStar,” Margaret said while reading a plaque on the wall. “Yes, I vaguely remember reading about this. It was attacked, marooned by pirates. The pirates were mostly poor people seeking supplies for their own survival, but some of them were vicious. They wanted to destroy the well-to-do. The economic disparities by that time had become intense.”
Joseph found some cans of food and some bottles of water. He did not know if they were still consumable or not, and he hoped he would not have to try them.
“I’ll take these along. In case we need them. We have some emergency supplies in the PSV. Now if that thing still has fuel.”
Joseph jumped into the shallow end of the swimming pool, raised his eyebrows, and the canopy obeyed.
“Everything looks normal! We have fuel. We can get away from here.”
“Where are we going?”
“Well, I’m going back home, to the launch station I always use. I can top off the fuel there. We can get more supplies. And modern clothes. And food!”
“I don’t know my next step now,” said Margaret. “I will need to get back home, I guess. I should write reports. But what to say. Nothing is believable. And there is no evidence.”
“Let’s get back to my base. Then you can decide what else you need to do. And, well, us. What do we do about, us?”
“We need a return to normality. Before we decide anything else. How can we plan when worlds are smashing about us?”
Margaret climbed into the cargo area, which by now had become very familiar. She tucked her arms and legs tightly against the walls and waited for the little ship to respond to Joseph’s command.
It did not.
Everything pulsed, streamed, flowed, and computed. But the ship would not respond to any controls. It remained as marooned in the dry swimming pool as the cruise ship in the island sand.
∆∆∆
Joseph was wandering. He was below all the decks now, wandering amid the machinery, the great mechanical drives, pumps, shafts, pipes of this…What! This ship is coal fired. It’s a steam ship. This is not 21st Century!
He hurried upward to find Margaret. He needed her help. This was not the ship on which they had been placed. It was much older.
Margaret had found pencil and paper and was recording details. She needed something to keep her mind occupied since all attempts to make the PSV work had been futile. It whirs and hums in that stupid swimming pool. Why won’t it move?
While she was making notes, all the while knowing she would probably lose them just like all the other evidence she had tried to collect, she started noticing incongruities. Some items, some designs or arrangements of things, no longer seemed to match the time period of the DreamStar cruise ship. It was subtle. But molded plastic gave way to hand-carved wooden fixtures. I could have sworn these were different just a short time ago!
“We’re on a flippin’ steamship!” Joseph had b
urst on the scene, almost screaming.
“What are you talking about, Joseph? We identified the ship. It’s much newer than a steamship. It should have a big diesel….”
“It has no such thing! This is a coal-fired vessel! The top may be DreamStar but down in the engine rooms, or whatever they’re called, there is coal, and boilers, and antique shafts, and brass fittings!”
“I’m finding incongruities. Time period incongruities. Something isn’t right about this ship.”
“What isn’t right is it doesn’t even exist. I mean, we were on the moon. What are we doing here with my PSV immobilized in the damn swimming pool? I think the, Others, whatever they are…they’re fooling us. We’re still on the moon. Now I’m sure of it. Have you even been on a cruise ship?”
“No, but I’ve read about them.”
“I’ve read about steamships. Not cruise ships. These guys are reading our thoughts again.”
“They make it seem real enough. I no longer know where all we’ve been. We went in search of the crater and the Pickering ship. And I don’t know if we found it or not.”
“No, we found the damn Air Force Colonel standing on the moon in his dress uniform. Or who, or what? It wasn’t a man there with no moon suit.”
“Okay. Since there is no way to determine where we really are, or even when, what do we do? Logically. Is there any logical way to approach this?”
“Well, I’m going swimming. And see if I drown in the fake water.”
“Joseph! You will not. I won’t be here all alone.”
“I’ll wet my toes then. I can swim…if there’s water.”
Personal Space- Return to the Garden Page 8
