Ascent

“No no it cannot be true,” I said, “no, I have to be sure.” I unfolded the notice and look upon the dreaded text.

Cadet Gwendolyn Sharper of 2329 Cassock St. Earth report to Intergalactic Vessel Nine on May, 13, 2120 at thirteen hundred hours. You may bring any family members you wish, but please remember the possible side effects to the elderly due to intergalactic travel. Your tour will last seven years, and include stopovers at moon settlement 60473, Kuiper Belt Asteroid BV2, Europa’s Northernmost Crater and Jacob’s Landing.

Tears spilled from my eyes, land on the paper and smear the ink. I covered a sob with a laugh sloshing my drink in its mug. Possible side effects to the elderly, more like probable death. Fancy paper and fancy lies take Gwen away from me. I ball the letter in my fist, sigh, and let the notice uncurl. I fold the stationary in half, in half again, and slide it into my pocket.   

To get to Intergalactic Vessel Nine I have to ride the transporter. The transporter, a purple plastic pod like a gondola of the London Eye, with a capacity of two-hundred people, standing room only. The pod is shot with what looks like the world’s largest rubber band into the ionosphere. In the ionosphere, pod is intercepted with a rocket with giant yellow metal grabby arms.

Being shot into space on a glorified sling shot is probably not good for my health. The Department of Interstellar Travel agrees. A forty-year-old man has a fifty-fifty shot at his heart exploding. A sixty-year-old man has a seventy-five percent chance, and the odds only go up. At seventy, it’s no longer a trip, but a pre-coffin sizing. The problem, the love of my life, has always been Gwen. At fifty, she loves her vocation has a fulfilling career ahead of her. The only problem is my age because I am too old for interstellar travel. For me, she takes jobs that make less money but are closer to home. Now she has been summoned for a trip she cannot deny. I lift my clear cold glass to my lips and swallow the last sip of my drink as if taking that last long cooling swallow will prolong the inevitable discussion Gwendolyn and I must have.

At our home on Cassock Street, Gwen and I sit on the red, and green striped couch with the stuffing coming out of the arm. Staring at the yellow wallpaper. Gwen sits curled next to me.

“I’ve thought long and hard about this, I’m going with you,” I stated

.“No Gordon, if you are shot into space in a pod you’ll die,” Gwen replied firmly, “I know the statistics you are not going with me.”

“I’ve thought of that, but seven years, Gwen seven years is a long time. I’ll be seventy-seven years old when you come back,” I pause. “or I’ll be dead.”

“Gordon Sharper if you come with me you’re guaranteed to die,” Exclaimed Gwen!

I replied, “Think about it as if I’ll live.”

“Three hundred people thought about it that same way, and they are all dead,” Gwen countered.“I’m not risking you,” Gwen sobbed. Tears begin to spill out of her eyes and down her cheeks.

“Gwen, Gwen, Gwen,” I soothed, wrapping her small body in my arms, running her long brown hair through my fingers.

“Everyone dies someday. I don’t know if it will be five days, or five years from now. That’s why I want to come with you, I did not mean to make you cry,” I said. She looks up at me. Her eyes red-rimmed, and tear tracks down her cheeks.

“I just want you to be safe,” she said as she sniffles and looks ready to cry some more. With my right hand, I quickly grab a tissue from the box on the end table.

“Blow,” I said holding the tissue over her little nose. She laughs.

“I love it when you do things like that,” she said.

Then more quietly.She replied, “Gordon if you really need to come with me, we should go together.”

“I do,” I replied. Two weeks and we are ready for our flight.  The airport has a beige carpeted floor, frayed to strands by hundreds if not thousands of feet. The people are confined to a line by red velvet ropes and brass poles. The people wind around the building, a monitor lights up above our heads, Gwen looks up and slips her hand into mine.

“Three hours until our flight leaves,” she implied, “you can still back out Gordon.”

“No, I’ve made my choice and I’m going with you.” We continue snaking through the line, we reach the entrance to our pod. The carpet on the inside is the same boring beige. The only difference is the view of our home, distorted through the purple plastic of the pod.

“The pod only spends five point three seconds in the outer ionosphere, there is not enough time for the oxygen to be sucked into space ” I explained.

Click. click. click. The gray-black fibers of the slingshot begin to stretch. Our pod slowly descends our pod passes metal coils vibrating with tension. Sproing!!! woosh!!! Our pod flies through the air. A small friction fire begins on the dome of the pod, but that is to be expected because we are going over sixteen thousand miles per hour.

A change in the landscape. We can see the curvature of the earth. My heart begins to pound in my chest. Thud, thud. Faster Thu Thu Thu. Ththth. I grab Gwen’s hand.