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THE GOLDEN LIGHTS
Copyright 2019 Christina M. Guerrero
DEDICATION
For Caleb.
STORY BEHIND THE STORY
Have been procrastinating on this story
for a long time. It started with the bickering
about the physics and grew from there.
ABOUT THE DRAFTS
First draft:
Nothing, yet.
Outside the wide front window, at approximately eleven o'clock, Saturn was the size of a cantaloupe.
I said as patiently as possible, "I thought we just left Earth. And how can we be this close to Saturn and not be circling around it?"
Universal Bureau of Investigation Agent Jones said, "You slept several times, Ms. Rook."
"Only three times. That doesn't explain how we've already travelled millions of miles or AUs or whatever. It's physically impossible."
UBI Agent Wilson muttered, “And yet it’s happening.”
Agent Jones said, "Ms. Rook. Have you personally tested the theories and hypotheses of physics? Have you flown a spacecraft? Are you personally navigating this one?"
I held back a lot of ugly words.
“Have you, Ms. Rook?”
I said, "But ... scientists have."
"But have YOU? Do you even know anything about physics? Or astronomy? Or science, beyond the basics?"
I said, "This spaceship is not going that fast!"
They continued to look out the window. They sat behind the captain and his team.
I sat behind all of them.
Behind us and around us, others worked or looked out the windows at the sights: distant stars and galaxies, the planets and their moons, the occasional odd streak across the cosmos.
"Where are we going?" I asked in a more resigned way than the last, hoping to sound agreeable.
Agent Jones said, "That's classified."
"Why?"
"That's classified."
“It’s classified because it’s classified?”
Jones said, “Yes.”
"You interrupt my work day to tell me we're going on a trip and to pack a small suitcase and then I had to sign all those forms. And most of you all wore those full body astronaut suits during all that preparation phase. Am I infected with something? Are you banishing me to some weird world?"
Agent Wilson said, "Classified ... and classified."
Agent Jones said, "Ms. Rook. Enjoy the amenities of the spacecraft. There's a coffee shop on the starboard side. Can't you smell the scents?"
I sat there and watched as Saturn gradually moved from eleven o'clock to ten, then looked toward the starboard hallway.
Agent Jones stood up. "I'll go with you."
We walked down a narrow hall. We passed a long window and I saw our reflections: he was tall and average weight; I was short and slim.
"You've got to tell me something," I said.
Jones winked and said, "Something."
I frowned then switched my attention to the hall: a mini-business district on both sides, including the coffee shop, a hair and nail salon, a tiny convenience store, an urgent care center and a library. Except for those who were working, the hall was deserted, which led me to believe it was nighttime for most of us.
"Smells good," I said as we stopped in front of the coffee shop. It extended into the interior of the ship, with seats on either side and one table plus two chairs across the hall in an alcove, where customers had a view of the heavens through a window.
A cheerful young Asian man said, "Welcome to Spacebuzz. May I get you a sample or start an order?"
Jones said, "An order, please. A medium mocha. With whipped cream."
"Ma'am?"
"A medium soy latte, please."
Jones appeared to pay with a card, then we returned to the captain's area.
I saw nothing in the distance -- at the moment.
A few seconds later I looked up from sipping my drink and saw a bright blue dot appear and vanish to the right of the big main window.
"Uranus just disappeared?" I said, being sure to emphasize the first syllable of the planet.
Jones and Wilson said together, "Yes."
"Uranus did not just come and go!" I said. "This is a simulation of some kind!"
"URanus?" Someone whispered. “I thought it was UrANus. UrANus just disappeared?”
There was a long silence.
Then Jones, Wilson and I laughed for a long time.
When I could speak I said, "Admit it. This is not physically possible." I yawned and stretched.
"Get some sleep," Jones said.
I returned to my room, where I accessed the mini basic computer (MBC) and set an alarm for five hours and forty-five minutes.
When the alarm went off, I took a quick shower, dressed, and returned to the captain's area.
"Good morning," Jones said.
To his right, Wilson snoozed.
"Morning," I mumbled.
A low pleasant female voice announced over the intercom: "We will be slowing down near Pluto. The upper level will be open for the best photo opportunities."
Wilson woke and said, "Pluto? I missed Neptune? Then I want a pic. Be right back."
I kept my disbelief to myself. Soon, I was near the front window and admiring the small, gray and deep magenta mystery of Pluto.
And soon we were past it.
"Where are we going?" I asked once again while smearing sausage gravy over a biscuit. “Back to the ground so I can go back to my life? There’s no way this is possible. Although that lift-off seemed legit. Please tell me something."
Wilson turned away from his egg sandwich. "It's classified. Want a hash brown?"
"No, thanks."
I finished breakfast and listened and observed. The captain and his team interacted as if they were flying a massive airplane. Wilson and Jones were mostly silent except for small talk. The little business district picked up.
"Going back to my room," I said.
"Okay," Jones said.
Once at my door, I changed my mind. I pulled a folded-up map from my jeans pocket and studied the amenities on this floor. If I timed my walk properly, I might arrive back at the bridge by lunchtime.
The walk took me past many rooms, a small school (in session), a little playground, several restricted areas, restrooms, a movie theater, a huge gym, multiple greenhouses, and more rooms.
As I tried to estimate how many individual rooms, The pleasant female voice announced, "Ms. Rook, please contact Agent Wilson at your convenience," three times.
I found and used a spacecraft phone to contact him. "You rang?"
Wilson said, "Leaving solar system after dinner. Be here for some good food and interesting sights."
"Seriously."
"Yes."
I took my time and ended up having tacos for lunch in the business district, paid for by my government. Why? Classified.
After that I walked some more, saw Spacebuzz up ahead, sniffed, and stopped when a short robot cart rolled toward me with samples on a tray.
The robot cart flashed and announced through its speakers, "Help yourself to a sample of our light-roast Spacebuzz blend, or to our Chocolate Blendy."
"Thanks." I took a Blendy.
"You are welcome."
I returned to the bridge and looked out the window. Space was mostly dark and spotted with bright dots of all colors.
Jones nodded at me then resumed sitting there.
I sat and appreciated the arrangements: our chairs were big and comfortable, with spaces for drinks, books, MBCs, and a flat moveable panel to use as a table.
Wilson turned and placed a gift bag on my lap. "I know you brought your own books and stuff. But here's some more."
"Oh. Thanks." I found two puzzle magazines, a package of mechanical pencils, and one of Dostoyevsky's long novels.
My own snoring woke me up. I smelled a barbecue. The captain and his crew navigated as they munched on burgers and chips. Agents Wilson and Jones stood in line near a long table of food.
I joined them and prepared a plate of hot dogs, chips, veggies; took some lemonade; and returned to my seat.
Wilson took a few bites of his burger then said, "Here it comes."
I waited but the view remained dark with bright spots, with one of them suspiciously closer than the last time I looked.
I felt a slight slowing of the spaceship, followed by a tiny moment of weightlessness and a slight reduction in sound. After a rather funny popping sound, the craft resumed its cruising speed with all associated sounds back to baseline.
"Did you feel that?" Wilson asked.
"Yes," I said.
He wiped his eyes and sniffed.
Jones said, "Be strong."
I stayed up for a while and socialized then went to my room and set the timer but not the alarm.
That did not matter. I still slept five hours and forty five minutes exactly.
After bathing and dressing I went to my chair.
It was the same routine for many more sleeping cycles ... as one of the bright spots grew closer and closer.
"We are not approaching another galaxy," I said in the middle of yet another lunch ... as we approached another galaxy.
Wilson said around a bite of ham and cheese sandwich, "Looks like it."
More sleep cycles, more protests on my part, more sarcasm from Wilson and Jones.
Then we were on the outskirts of the galaxy, followed by intragalactic space and assorted matter, followed by bright lights in the distance.
Not too long after that time frame, I woke at hour three of a sleep cycle, feeling odd. I dressed and went to the bridge.
Wilson and Jones were using a variety of computers and devices.
"Look at this," Wilson said.
In the distance a large light green glow was surrounded by an off-white haze. Long strings of lights, that looked like landing or driving lanes, stretched from us to the green glow. We moved along one of the lanes.
I stared. Behind the green glow was a faint magenta background and a smaller green dot.
"Nice," I said. "Really nice and sort of familiar. And I don't know why."
Wilson went to his chair, pulled out a bunch of papers, and turned to me.
"Not again,"I said.
"The last round."
I signed all the forms and waited. They had to witness my and each other's signatures, file some of the forms, and do a bunch of things that looked top secret.
As they fussed, The light green glow grew massive. The haze was clouds. The green appeared to be stripes of land alternating with silvery stripes of water.
Wilson said, "We will be landing soon. You will be living here."
"Why?" I said, yet with wonder as the greenery sharpened into multiple lines of mountains around the planet. Snow capped all the peaks.
Jones said, "Do you recognize it?"
A runway appeared. We moved toward it, lowered gracefully, raced past a row of silvery buildings, touched the ground, and gradually slowed to a stop.
The craft was silent.
I went to the window and looked out and admired the tall, white-capped, silvery and light green mountains.
"Yes, Jones," I said. "I recognize it. I've dreamed of it all my life."
Wilson said, "Ms. Rook. At age two you were found wandering along the border of the United States and Canada near Vermont. Despite an extensive search we could not find any next of kin. You were placed in foster care."
"I know that part."
"Here's a classified video of the interview with you."
He handed me his MBC.
I saw my two-year-old self sitting at a table with two men who wore FBI badges.
One man said, "What’s your name?"
My younger self studied him solemnly. "Meesa."
"Meesa?"
"Yes."
"Where's your mommy and daddy?"
"Dey ... dey go to the sky."
The other man said, "What is this?" He held out a wide round pink fabric with strings and a harness attached to it.
"Dats a parachute."
"Do you know how to use it?"
My little self nodded, slipped out of the chair, went to the parachute and strapped in, in only a few seconds.
Man number two muttered, "Trained to handle emergencies ... extremists ... immigrant ... check the papers. No oxygen mask ... might be lost."
Man number one said, "Where did you get these cute little pink clothes? And shoes?"
My younger self said, "Glebcher. I make a picture." I escaped the harness, went to the table, drew for a while, then held out a shaky but accurate map of the planet I had just landed on, including a tall stick figure with a lot of black hair and a big mustache, standing near a sign with a lot of squiggly writing.
Jones took the MBC and said, "Ms. Rook--"
"Meesa."
"Meesa. You're free to explore and look for Glebcher. We believe this is the right mountain range. We'll be stationed here for a while. Take this to show him."
Jones handed me a clear plastic bag which contained the parachute, clothes, and shoes.
I took a type of bicycle and rode quickly out of the airport and down the street along the foothills.
And halfway down the street, like on the little map, there was a clothes shop, with a sign in about thirty languages. At the bottom was English: Glebcher.
I stepped off the bike, pushed down the kickstand, and looked for a bike chain.
Then I looked around and saw all bicycles were left near the curbs, like cars.
As I moved toward the door, a tall skinny man walked out. He had a lot of black hair mixed with gray and a big black and gray mustache.
He looked me over and focused on the transparent plastic bag.
He gestured toward the sign and spoke.
I said, "English."
"English. Okay. My name Glebcher. Where you get this?" He took the plastic bag and studied the items.
"I think my mother and father bought it here." I saw rows and rows of parachutes and jumpsuits inside his store.
Glebcher turned the bag over and over. "What your name is?"
"Meesa."
He smiled -- a smile that changed his face from somber to cheerful. "Meesa!" Then, softer, "Meesa."
He shook his head, squared his shoulders and said, "I am sorry. Your parents say if I see these things again they will be dead. There was an invasion. The aliens ... they try to kill all the children of only age one, age two and age three. Your parents escape with you. They hear of place with more water and bright sun--"
I examined the sky. This sun was warm but dim.
"--I don't know the rest until now." Glebcher smiled and blushed.
I wondered if he had a crush on my mother. Or father.
"I have picture," Glebcher said. "I bring it to you." He rushed inside, moved about, rushed back. "See. Your mother. Your father. You."
He held out something similar to a photograph. At first I thought it was me with a stranger. But it was a woman who looked like me, only with much longer hair. To her left was a man who had features exactly like mine, and a short build similar to my own. I held hands with my father. Glebcher stood to my left, much younger.
"Look!" I said. "It's you, too. How old were you, then? Fifteen?"
He frowned. "I had ... seventeen sets of seasons in picture. I am now forty-seven sets of seasons."
"That makes me--"
A roaring sound filled the air. The spacecraft from Earth soared into the air, made a graceful U-turn, and sped away.
"Those liars," I said. "They told me they would wait for me. What is wrong with them?”
Glebcher listened, patted me, spoke in his language, and rushed back into his shop.
I said to myself, "Using his math I might be about thirty-two on this planet."
He walked out, shaking his head. "We go to Universal Consulate. File complaint."
We did that, and also had to return to the airport to pick up luggage that Wilson and Jones had left for me. There was no note -- just some of my Earthly belongings.
"Such liars," I complained.
Glebcher blushed yet again. "Not everyone is liar."
About four hundred sunrises later, Wilson and Jones returned to the planet.
They had a hard time finding me because I was no longer Meesa Rook.
"So you got married," Jones said as he and Wilson entered Glebcher's Flightware Shop.
"Yes," I said.
“So did Wilson.”
Wilson smiled and wiggled his left hand. A gold band decorated his left ring finger. He said, “How’s life back at home?”
I could not speak. But they saw my tears of joy.
Jones said, “Go to dinner with us. Our treat as an apology. We’d explain why we had to leave so fast but it’s--"
We all said together, including Glebcher who emerged from the special sale on the patio, “CLASSIFIED.”
We all went out and had a nice time.
Later, Glebcher and I walked back to the big apartment over the shop.
"When I first got here," I said. "Why were you blushing so much?"
He smiled and squeezed my hand. "Because. When you were little girl. You say to me 'I love you I marry you I love you' and I say ... ‘No! You are little girl. When you are woman you find me and talk to me about love.' And then ...."
He smiled.
"And then?"
"And then. When you were gone. I dream of you. In the dream you are finally woman. And we had many lifetimes. And we look different in each one. And we sound different too. But we always know each other. We always."
He squeezed my hand. I squeezed back.
And before we went upstairs we admired the magenta sunset and the green white-capped mountains and the quiet street.
And all around in small buildings and tall, and along the streets, and in lanes in the sky, and in the spacecraft parked on the far side of the airport tarmac ... shining and honoring the darkness ...
... were the golden lights of evening.
THE END THE END THE END
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