Authors: Christine Gasbjerg
I’ve just kept my focus on staying calm and avoiding eruption in a cascade of tears and helpless sobbing in front of these accomplished scientists. I feel it deeply sometimes – the utter pain and suffering from realizing that he couldn’t love me… and then having to fight the thought that it’s simply because I’m not lovable, and I will never find true love. At the darkest of times I feel so worthless that if I should end up dying on this expedition, then at least my life would have been of some benefit to someone, like humanity, if not myself.
“Hello, what’s your name?” A tall blond guy with blue eyes reaches his hand out aiming to take mine.
“I’m Millie.” I shake his hand.
“My name is Kurt and my job is to collect samples of minerals, gasses, possible vegetation, and make preliminary tests on site.”
“So you’re a scientist?”
“Yes, I’ve got a Ph.D. in biochemistry. I’ve already been in space twice. One time in orbit and one time to the moon. Boy, that place is cold.” He seems content with his own achievements. “And you?”
“I’m keeping the log.” I taste my own words, try to get used to the feeling of them on my tongue, adopting them as the truth.
The more conversations I have with the other crew members, the more I realize how little I know about the expedition I’m about to embark on. I’ve not done any research, not read the contract, not paid much attention at the briefings, don’t know anything about what we’re going out to explore, apart from looking for fuel… don’t know… and don’t really care. What happens happens.
TWO
bumping along towards the stars
So here I am, on a spaceship heading for the stars and my dreams.
It’s strangely lucky that they didn’t find my references or credentials insufficient. I can only assume that they were impressed by my optimistic (or rather; exaggerated) account for the potential to save the energy crisis with the future results of my algae experiments. If only I truly believed it myself.
The take-off is rather bumpy in spite of the special gyro seats that were supposed to make take-offs, landings and turbulence much more comfortable. I’m not complaining though. I’m just relieved and happy to be on my way.
As soon as we’re out of the stratosphere surrounding Earth, the ship’s movements calm down. When it’s safe to loosen the buckle for a while, I get a good view of Earth in the distance. It’s getting smaller and smaller at a disturbingly fast speed.
I remember the times back on Earth where I would stand in a crowd of cheerful people, and suddenly feel loneliness sneak up on me. When I was younger, I thought that loneliness was supposed to be the product of physically being alone without other people around. But it seems like loneliness is actually the product of emotionally feeling alone, separate, and like you don’t belong… no matter if you’re actually alone or in a crowd.
I expect it to be easier here in space – more clear-cut, since nobody belongs here. There’s no pretext of ‘we’re all here together – nobody left out, nobody alone’. Here, we’re all aliens that don’t belong. We’re all alone. Here my feeling of loneliness matches my physical surroundings. It feels true. It’s congruent and authentic.
After a while of moving away from Earth at rocket speed, I suddenly have an urge to take a deep breath. I get this image of having a cigarette in my hand, standing on top of a mountain, and wanting to take a big whiff all the way down into the corners of my lungs. But I don’t smoke. I never did.
The woman sitting closest to me starts gasping for air, as if she’s having an asthmatic attack, and then faints.
“Who’s in charge of the air?” I burst it out. “Do we have a problem with the air in the cabin?”
Instantly a guy jumps out of his seat furthest away from me, runs to a keyboard and starts tapping manically. An alarm goes off. He gets up, opens a locker door in the wall, and bangs his elbow into a big compressor tank – of oxygen, I suppose. Back at the keyboard again, he taps away until the alarm stops. He finds a small portable compressor bottle with an inhaler piece at the end, comes rushing and puts it over the mouth and nose of the woman who fainted. Finally she wakes up again.
I’m surprised at how low-tech the air supply apparently is, and a discomforting thought strikes me – perhaps I’m not the only ‘noxpert’ on the ship!?
The idea of suffocating out of lack of air is unexpected. I never really considered the practicalities of being in space… like the fact that there’s no breathable air whatsoever. I feel an urge to occupy myself with something rather than dwell on this. I dig out the personal device handed to me. I set up a new document for the work I’m assigned to write – a log for documenting the happenings on the vessel.
I’m only just considering what to name the document, when Kurt, the biochemistry scientist, interrupts me.
“Are you okay with air?”
“Yes, I’m managing, thanks for asking.” I’m eager for him to go away.
“That was quite a scare. We’ll be gone in no time if the air-supply fails. End of mission right there.”
“Sure. But now it’s okay.” I just want to get cracking with the log.
“If you think about it, our lives are entirely in Martin’s hands. It’s a lot of responsibility for one man.” Kurt looks at the guy with the oxygen tank as he speaks to me.
“Are you trying to freak me out?”
“Oh no. Sorry. I don’t mean to scare you. I just think perhaps that kind of responsibility should be shared. Don’t you?” Without waiting for my reply Kurt keeps talking. “I think I better offer to help him. That way the air-supply will be double-checked. I think that’s essential. A crucial thing like oxygen needs supervision, and I’m the man for that.”
“Good idea. Go get him.” I try to be kind, but I really just want him to leave me alone.
“Yeah… okay.” Kurt hesitates for a moment and then aims for the air-guy, who I now know is named Martin.
I’ve not been given any instructions as to the format of the log, so I name it ‘The Star Log of Apollo 56’. Apollo 56 is the name of the vessel. Through the years there have been many Apollo ships – and now we’ve reached number 56 in the Apollo line.
Space travel never caught my interest before this. The astronauts always seemed to come back with nothing to show for it other than reports on how inhabitable other planets are. Still, I’ve always been interested in space and the influences of planets on the human psyche. I believe that magnetism and other kinds of invisible forces and attractions from in- and outer-space do have a certain impact on us humans—although it appears to be a very vague and non-exact science, and nobody of social significance officially believes in it.
On the topic of UFOs and aliens—I don’t know if they exist. I think they would have appeared by now if they did. But they haven’t. Not to my knowledge. Sure enough there are people who claim to have seen UFOs and been abducted by aliens, but no official authority has ever confirmed or documented any such sighting or experience. On top of that, the general impression I get from the media is that it always seems to be very ‘peculiar’ people who have spotted a UFO or been abducted by aliens – people who live all alone, who has poor social skills, or belong to some far-out religion or belief system. My impression from the media may not be the truth of course.
In any case, I don’t believe in aliens at or above our level of intelligence. The idea that there might be intelligent life out there, that we don’t know of, is really hard for me to fathom. It seems unlikely. I believe we’re alone in the Universe.
I look at Earth through the window of the spaceship, and it surprises me to see how small it has already become in the distance. It’s visibly growing smaller by the second, which indicates the ship’s very high speed—even though it feels as if we’re not moving at all. Of course high speeds are required, when we’re going beyond the outer perimeter of our galaxy in only a couple of months.
Space and space technology is amazing... literally ‘a maze’ to me. I have no idea how it works or how many different technologies there are for traveling and creating speed. I only remember hearing about the combustion engine, which I believe is the first and still primary type of engine used on Earth—and I know it’s primarily running on oil or coal. I do know that’s how electricity generally is created too—and has been for centuries. I believe there's been historical attempts to generate electricity from other natural forces like wind, waves and sunlight, but somehow none of those technologies caught on. I remember something from the history lessons, when I was a kid, about how there used to be many energy companies all over the world back in those days, before they were merged into bigger worldwide companies. Today, there are only two gigantic energy companies on Earth providing energy to the whole world. It’s all based on oil and coal, and E-corp is the biggest one. That’s the way it’s always been for as long as I can remember.
I feel like a fraud between all these scientists with my extremely limited knowledge of anything technological, scientific, and space related. All I know anything about is green plants, and what I read and watch in the media. I used to pursue my ‘career’ with power and action, but in the end, I started to feel like a man. Perhaps that’s why Jag couldn’t be with me – because I was behaving more masculine than feminine. In my career, I was running things, controlling things, pushing things, and I was very good at it, and it was expected of me too. I guess I ended up being like that all the time – including at home with him. I couldn’t turn it off when I got home, I couldn’t switch it off and become a softer person the moment I stepped in the door. But what I can do now, is give up behaving like a man entirely, and allow myself to be a feminine woman. Let love be the primary focus of my life. Alongside science. In this way writing a log is a very deliberate choice too – it doesn’t feel like controlling or pushing. It’s observing, describing and expressing… it feels like caring and giving. I’ve let go of all attachments—to my ex, to my fears, and to people’s expectations. My life is now simple and flowing… unforced and free.
I’m stuck trying to write the first sentence of the Star Log. I really ought to start off with describing the mission of this expedition. Only, I'm not at all clear why we are here. I know we're looking for fuel, collecting minerals and other samples, but that's it. I suppose I better find out if anybody else has a more detailed answer. I look around the craft for someone who looks like they know stuff, and finally spot one.
“What's your job description on this mission?” I’m approaching a woman who's got wild curly hair and looks a little geeky-crazy.
“Excuse me?” The woman looks confused as she eyes me up from top to bottom.
“Oh, sorry—Hi, my name is Millie. I'm keeping the log. What are you doing on the ship?” I catch myself lacking manners. I've been alone in my little bubble for quite a while now, and I've apparently forgotten my social skills. Mental note to remind myself how empathy and small talk breaks the ice, and gets you places with people.
“Right. Well, hello. I'm Rosie. I’m in charge of Comms.” She smiles briefly as if her mind is somewhere else.
“Comms?” I can't quite figure out what she means.
“I oversee and maintain the tele communication systems on the ship. I'm the one talking to home base if we need something. I'm the one catching and interpreting communication from space… So what are you writing?”
“In fact I'm just about to write a description of the mission. In your view, what's our mission?” I think I get nicely away with asking without revealing that I don't have a clue what we were doing in space.
“The mission?” Rosie looks inquisitively at me. “Well, the mission is to collect as much intel on life forms and energy resources, such as new fossil fuel sites, in space as we can.”
“Intel?”
“Yes, meaning samples, recordings, communication, and observations. We're gathering intelligence.”
For a moment it feels like my brain has stopped working—like it's stunned and can't form a single thought. Then I rewind in my mind what Rosie just said, and my next question become obvious. “You're collecting communication from space?”
“Yes. I was on the last Apollo, and intercepted several different transmissions that formed different languages.” Rosie looks at me and notices my disbelieving stare. “You've not been informed?”
My tongue seems dead. In fact my whole face and body feels as numb and motionless as my brain.
“Well, you'll find out soon anyway, because I'm already picking up transmissions that are similar to the ones I intercepted on the last mission. And this time we're going much much further into space than we've been before, so I suspect that we'll get a lot closer to physical contact.” Rosie pauses and looks at me. I suppose she finally realizes I haven't got a clue. “We're not alone. There's intelligent life out there. From what I can tell, their intelligence and technology is quite a lot more advanced than ours.”
“There’s life in space? We have found aliens?” I hear myself whisper.
“Yes, well, they aren't 'alien' as such. We call them Extra-Terrestrial Beings.”
“ET Beings? We've found ET?” I can't help myself suddenly giggling as I imagine the cute creature from the ancient children's movie. I wonder why I suddenly can't take this serious. I must get a grip of myself.
“ET—yes…” Rosie gets the film reference, but doesn't seem amused. “I've not seen them physically yet, so I don't know what they look like. And as far as I know, we've not yet been in actual conversation with them, although many attempts have been made to communicate with them.”
“So if you haven't seen them, and you haven't talked to them, how do you know they exist?”
“We've intercepted messages.”
“Messages for us, for humans?”
Rosie hesitates. “I've got to get on now. It was nice talking to you.” She looks down and backs away from me.
“How do you know the messages are from ET’s?” I follow Rosie, determined to get to know what she knows. “Could the messages in fact be from other humans from Earth, and not ET’s at all?” I'm hungry for knowledge now.