Page 70 of Space Balls: Houston, We Have Liftoff
“Gonads.”
“Yeah,” he says between laughter. “I know what nads refer to. I just haven’t heard it in a long time.”
I lift a single brow in his direction. “Seeing how many years you’ve already lived I find that hard to believe, old man.” I rub my left one now.
“Har, har.” He eyes my chest. “I thought you were punched in the other boob?”
“I was, but this one’s hurting too.” I shrug. “Probably getting my period.” I snort. “Or I’m pregnant.”
I laugh, but Vance doesn’t.
His body stills, and the smile slides off his face.
I can’t help but find his reactions amusing. “Relax, old man.” I wave my hand over my glitter speckled hoo-ha. “IUD.” Then point to his crotch. “Condom.” I walk over to the built-ins where the glitter bomb controls are. “Def not pregnant.”
He swallows. “Right.”
Men are such touchy creatures. “Come on.” I wave him over. “The engineer in you will love how this works.”
His walk is slow, almost a shuffle, but he comes over. I spend the rest of my day teaching him how to glitter bomb and play Fortnite.
But the silence isn’t as comfortable as before.
Seventeen
Free Falling
Vance
“Never takeboth hands off the Space Station on a spacewalk.”
Maneuvering my hands along the rails of the International Space Station’s truss, I angle forward out of the airlock to go under the S-0 truss, while the Virtual Reality Lab instructor narrates for the new astronaut class who is observing as part of their training.
Once under the nadir side of the truss, I work my way down the nodes on my way to the Columbus module. That’s where I’ll be installing the bridge support for Bartolomeo in a few months.
I need to be focused, even if this is just a simulation of my upcoming spacewalk. But even though I’m surrounded by a virtual, three-dimensional replication of the International Space Station, I’m seeing something completely different in my mind.
Rose, hunched over her laptop. Rose, staring into my eyes lost in pleasure. Rose, covered in glitter and joking about being pregnant.
“See how he’s gripping each brace as he goes?” the Virtual Reality Lab instructor asks. “The gloves have tactile response, so they simulate the pressure of each hand grip.”
“Manus gloves, correct?” Jackie asks. She’s been front and center since she entered the room, analyzing everything.
There’s a pause before the instructor answers, and I suppress a laugh. Jackie is going to giveallthe instructors here at NASA a run for their money. She probably knows more than they do.
“Ah, yes. They are Manus.”
“I’ve heard they have one of the best motion tracking bracelets and finger sensors on the market.” I can’t see her, but I can imagine her either pushing her glasses up her nose or tilting her head in thought.
Not to be outdone, the other astronauts start talking virtual reality jargon.
I successfully climb under the truss, my gloves tightening with each grasp of the handholds on the Unity module, all the while wondering if Rose has been too busy to notice my recent MIA attitude.
This past Saturday she asked for some space until finals were over. I went from going over every day, if only to watch her study and bring her food, to nothing—no calls, texts, or visits—for five days. Her presentation is Monday. After that, there is no plausible excuse for my physical and technical absence. Even now, I’m pretty sure Rose knows the difference between giving her space to get things done and going completely dark on communication. She’s too smart not to.
“Vance, pause here so that we can get an idea of your visuals,” the instructor says.
I still my movements, hands outstretched mid-climb. There are two screens in the VR room that those not wearing goggles can see. One has a bird’s eye view of my training session which shows my avatar pausing in its path and the other a view of what I’m seeing on the spacewalk.
