The moon, having been colonized right after the war, was first populated with doctors, scientists, writers, and military personnel. Then the funding dried up as the new threat of Soviet Russia began to rise from the ashes of the Second World War. By 1950, space travel was completely privatized, and the moon was now dotted with luxury hotels, golf courses, and 5-star restaurants. A conglomerate of corporations, including Goodyear, Sinclair, and the Ford Motor Company had set their sights on Mars, and already had teams on the red planet with carbon dioxide gassers filling the atmosphere. The plan was to have Mars fully habitable in three years, and luxury housing would be available to those who could afford it.
One of the people who could not afford it was a 17 year-old boy named Stephen Walter. Stephen attended the Milledgeville, Illinois High School (home of the Missiles), where he was in his final year. Stephen was everything you would expect from a boy in a small farm community, lanky, strong, good-looking, and a bit shy around girls. Spring was in the air, and the school dance was just around the corner. Girls were applying a little more makeup than usual, and the boys were suddenly worrying about their acne as both sexes tried to woo one another with subtle hints of shy playfulness. Stephen, as it were, didn’t need to worry about acne, but was very concerned about catching the eye of Julie Wynne, the prettiest girl in the entire universe as far as he was concerned.
The flashing neon of the moon could be seen from the field where Stephen often sat. The man on the moon no longer winked at Stephen like he did when Stephen was a little boy. His face was covered by the need of many to explore and experience new things in a safe a sterile environment. The dirt under Stephen’s nails screamed at the thought of this, and the often sweat-covered brow crinkled in wonderment that people would take so many measures to save themselves from harm and trouble. Still yet, the brain behind the brow longed to be there. To think – the moon! Suddenly, reality gave way to fantasy as he and Julie held hands as they seemed to float down the corridors of a hotel with red carpets, gold walls, and a glistening ivory ceiling. They laughed, their voices also seeming to float for eternity. She looked at him with her brown eyes that seemed as large as the moon itself, dark curls dancing across her face and shoulders, and a smile as radiant as the sun itself beamed its rays at Stephen. Fantasy was soon broken by a soft bark next to Stephen’s ear. He jumped, not hearing the dog approach.
“Gavroche, why are you out at this hour?” He asked, scratching the dog’s ears. Gavroche responded by snuffling and rubbing his head against Stephen’s chest.
“Alright,” Stephen said, getting up from his well-worn bit of grass, “I’m coming.”
Stephen had to move slowly at first, his limbs stiff from sitting. Gavroche kept nudging him along, grunting with impatience. They crossed through mazes of cornfields, rows of oats, and even more corn that kept the farmers alive and the nation fed. Their feet seemed one with the soil, as if they themselves rose up from the ground. Perhaps that is why the plants grew for them, farmers one with the soil. Despite the groaning of Gavroche, Stephen turned to take one last look at the moon, now hovering just over Mr. Zittercob’s grain silos – the only silos for miles – and allowed his mind to slip back to the fantasy of Julie smiling at him on the moon. Gavroche once again brought him back to the fertile ground of Illinois with a soft bark.
“Alright boy, let’s go to bed.”
So they went, a boy and his faithful companion, silhouetted by the light of a distant moon.
The day seemed to drag for Stephen. He sat with his friends at lunch, but didn’t really pay attention to the conversation, but paid very close attention to a certain girl with brown curls hanging down around her face. All of the usual subjects seemed to drag along until it came time for P.E. Typically, P.E. was considered a “drag” among students, but today was different because the boys were given volleyball while the girls tumbled along the side of the gym. Love was in air, and love has caused thousands of men to wage brutal wars of conquest to gain the affections of a lover, and today was no different. The warriors took their places on the court, looks of savage determination on their faces. They had been separated into red vs. blue, with Stephen on the blue side. Mrs. Volkers, the gym teacher, stepped forwards with the ball.
“Now, we will volley for serve. I will toss the ball at the center of the net, and you can have it from there.”
Mrs. Volkers knew exactly what was on the boys’ minds, and was not about to deprive them of the chance to show off for the girls, who were also trying slightly more daring moves than usual, glancing over at the boys to see if they noticed. The boys, however, were currently concerned with performing daring feats on the volleyball court, in hopes that the girls would notice. Mrs. Volkers stepped back and released the ball high into the air. Hands darted for it as the ball came down near the net. One hand got a piece of it, and the ball came flying down towards Stephen. He stooped and sent the ball sailing back towards the net. His teammates took the ball and spiked it down on the red team’s side. Groaning, they rolled the ball back over to be served. Stephen took the ball and stepped into position. A whack of the ball sent it flying into the red side, just inside the line, scoring for the blue team. He smiled and glanced at Julie, but she was in the middle of a somersault. Again, he sent the ball low and fast to gain a point for blue, and again Julie was in the middle of a tumble. Stephen sent the ball flying again, but this time the red team volleyed it back, and the ball went back and forth a few times before being knocked down into the blue team’s zone, gaining a point for red. This time, Julie was watching. The whole game went like that, and by the time the period was over every boy was sweaty, bleeding, and severely wondering if all of the effort was worth it.
The moon again hovered in the sky as Stephen walked into the barn. He and Gavroche were out to milk the cows, a process that could be aided by a milking machine, but their farm grew corn and grain, and the money was spent on a new harvester rather than on saving Stephen time with the three dairy cows they owned. They watched silently as he and Gavroche entered, pails clanging with each footstep. The expressions of the cows seemed to indicate annoyance that Stephen would bother them at this hour for the trivial task of milking, but they didn’t try to kick him as he sat down. Gavroche sat in the corner, out of reach of the cows, as they were not on the best of terms, and would probably try to kick him if he got too close. Stephen let his mind wander again, this time he was the pilot of a rocket headed for the moon. The engines roared, the seats shook, and the tension was high as the rocket lifted off the platform. He kept a steady hand on the controls, sailing away from the stable ground of earth. It was no sweat though, as Stephen had made this trip a thousand times before as pilot for Goodyear. They only hired the best pilots in the business, and paid them well for their time. Knocking on the barn door shook Stephen back to his task of milking, one pail almost full.
“Come in” he called out.
Stephen pulled the pail away and began filling a jar with the newly collected milk. Their neighbor, Mr. Zittercob entered the barn holding a wrench. It was odd to see Mr. Zittercob out this late, or even out at all, as he usually kept to himself and was busy like the other farmers of the area with his crops. He was an older man, his face deep with the crags of time, eyes hidden behind round spectacles and thick eyebrows. He always seemed to be contemplating something, with his lower lip slightly out and brow furrowed in concentration. It was rumored that he had been a scientist in Germany before moving to America after the First World War, and that he had been a celebrated figure. Regardless of the truth, he had done very well for himself, as he had the largest farm out of everyone in Milledgeville, and hired many of the people in the town to work on it.
“Hello Mr. Zittercob, what brings you here this late?” Stephen asked.
“I borrowed a vench from your vater.”
He held the wrench out for Stephen to see. Stephen walked over to the portly old man and took the wrench from his outstretched hand.
“Thank you sir, I appreciate you bringing it back. Do you want a glass of milk? It’s fresh.”
“No, thank you.”
Stephen turned to put the wrench on its hook, when Mr. Zittercob stopped him with a sharp query.
“How tall are you?”
Stephen turned, a little surprised by the question.
“I’m five foot, nine inches sir, why do you ask?”
“I haf… some auld cloves I vant to give to you” Mr. Zittercob turned towards the door, “Come to my haus after your studies tomorrow. I vill give them to you then.”
“Thank you Mr. Zittercob, I really appreciate that.”
Mr. Zittercob did not reply, but closed the door behind him as he went out into the night. Stephen was a little unsure about how to feel about Mr. Zittercob giving him clothes, as he was keen on getting the attention of Julie Wynne, and clothes from fifty years ago would not help him in that regard, but it was best to just accept the old man’s generosity anyways. Gavroche barked, reminding him that there were still two more pails to be filled with milk before they could wander in the fields as was their custom. So, with a sigh, Stephen turned back to the still annoyed cows.
School seemed to drag as it always did. Calculus, history, English, and chemistry were easy for Stephen, and he often sat daydreaming in class because he had already finished his work. But when the final bell rang, Stephen was reluctant to leave, as that meant going to get clothes from Mr. Zittercob. But still, he set out on the long dirt road that led him away from the red brick schoolhouse and towards the two towering silos of Mr. Zittercob’s farm. A second set of footsteps joined Stephen’s on the lonely walk. He turned, and bright smile and bouncing curls of Julia Wynne greeted him. Stephen nearly choked with surprise and excitement as she joined him in his walk.
“What brings you this way?” She asked him, “I thought your family’s farm was up north of the school.”
“It it, I have to go see Mr. Zittercob”.
Julie looked away towards the silos, her face falling slightly.
“Oh. Are you going to work for him?”
“No,” Stephen replied, “He wants to give me some old clothes.”
Stephen laughed nervously. Julie’s smile was gone, replaced by a dark cloud.
“What is it?” He asked gently.
“Nothing.”
The lie was thinly veiled, but Stephen decided that it was best to not pursue it, and they walked in silence until he reached the drive that led to Mr. Zittercob’s house.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” He said, hoping to break the tension.
“Tomorrow is Saturday.”
“Right, um, well, I’ll see you around then.”
Stephen wasn’t sure what to make of her stony disposition. It was in sharp contrast to her usual demeanor at school, and their first encounter was not at all how Stephen had hoped it would be. He paused for a moment, watching her walk down the lane, but finally resigned himself to walking up the deeply rutted road to Mr. Zittercob’s house.
Mr. Zittercob met Stephen at the door, face still in its perennial contemplative frown. He beckoned Stephen inside without a word. The house was very airy and open, with old photographs covering the wall, a younger, thinner Zittercob smiling as best he knew how, the frown still ever present on his face. An old phonograph stood in the corner, surrounded by little knick-knacks and such. Before Stephen even had a chance to say hello, Mr. Zittercob had already shuffled to the back, leaving Stephen alone to study the pictures and trinkets in the house. A young Zittercob in uniform, smiling, stood out from the rest of the photos. He seemed truly happy, the frown had not yet creased his brow.
“Use de restroom to try zem on.”
Mr. Zittercob’s sudden reappearance made Stephen jump a little bit. He was holding a neatly folded pair of grey wool pants and a shirt, which almost seemed like a uniform of some kind. Stephen politely took them and stepped in the direction Mr. Zittercob indicated the restroom was.
The wool was stiff with starch, and rubbed against Stephen’s skin. He was glad for the undershirt that he was wearing, but at least it didn’t scratch. One thing was certain, it would keep him warm in the winter. Stephen had to marvel at the old man’s guessing of sizes, he was a perfect fit in what was now very clearly an old military uniform. Stephen walked out to show Mr. Zittercob, to find that he had placed a pair of boots outside the door. Not wanting to be rude, Stephen also donned the boots, and walked to the front where Mr. Zittercob stood in the kitchen pouring hot water into a coffee press.
“Gut. It fits. Vould you like coffee?” asked Mr. Zittercob without raising his head.
“Yes please.”
Mr. Zittercob poured two cups of coffee and walked around to the table. He handed Stephen a cup, and motioned for him to sit down. As he sat, Mr. Zittercob reached for a book on the table and opened to a marked page. Wordlessly, he pushed it to Stephen for him to see. On the page was a complex problem involving geometry, trigonometry, and calculus. Mr. Zittercob looked at Stephen through his thick glasses.
“Can you solf the equation?” He asked Stephen.
“I think so sir.”
Stephen was a little nervous about it, because of its length, but was pretty sure about how to start it, and knew that was all he needed to see it through to completion. Mr. Zittercob handed him a paper and pencil, then sat back, watching. Suddenly, it seemed at though everything clicked in Stephen’s head, and he started writing down the steps on the paper. Before he knew it, the problem was solved. He looked up at Mr. Zittercob, smiling. Zittercob took the paper and examined it. He nodded in approval, and took the book back, opening to another page.
“Dis von is harder.”
The book once again slid to Stephen, and he examined the equation. It was harder, much harder. But soon enough, he had completed it as well. And so it went, six more problems, each harder than the last, but Stephen was able to solve them all. Mr. Zittercob nodded in approval, taking the book back for the last time.
“Vere your new clothes here tomorrow at eight in de morning.” He said, rising to take the empty cups to the sink. “I haf a job for you. You vill like it.”
He walked Stephen to the door, making sure he had his clothes before leaving. Stephen wore his new clothes home, excited at the idea of a job that involved something other than corn.
Stephen’s parents were a little wary to allow him to go work for Mr. Zittercob, not because they didn’t trust him, but because their own farm needed attention and Stephen away meant one less hand to help. But all of the planting had been done, and the rows were coming up well, so they consented. Stephen neatly folded his uniform and tucked it away in his dresser, then lit out into the fields with Gavroche. He reflected on the events of the day, and nearly kicked himself for not making a better impression on Julie. He should have said something clever or funny to make her laugh, he should have taken the time to comfort whatever was bothering her, but instead he went to up Mr. Zittercob’s drive. On the other hand, Stephen’s rational mind told him, it was best that he went up that drive, because now he had a job, and could impress Julie with some fancy jewelry from the store in Chadwick. But they wouldn’t be going to Chadwick for a few months, and Stephen worried that might be too late. Perhaps he could secure a seat next to Julie the next time Charlene hitched the trailer to the tractor and drove the kids to Sandwich to roller skate. But despite the fact the he was, as usual, occupied with Julie, Stephen’s mind kept wandering to the cryptic test administered by the old German. Stephen kept wondering what Mr. Zittercob had in store. Gavroche reminded him that it was time to sleep, and they set their feet back towards the house, as a full day awaited them.
Stephen woke early Saturday morning, making sure that he was not late to his first day of work. He combed his hair perfectly to the side, and put on the stiff grey wool uniform and boots, making certain that none of Gavroche’s hair had attached itself. In his effort to ensure that he was presentable, Stephen brushed his teeth twice, and combed his hair enough times that it was in danger of falling out. Soon enough, though, he set foot towards the two silos that marked Mr. Zittercob’s farm. The road was long, but thankfully the dust was kept down by the morning dew, keeping the dirt off Stephen’s freshly-shined boots. Far in the distance, Stephen saw a girl in a blue dress walking towards him, brown curls bouncing with every step. Perhaps now Stephen would get another chance at impressing the girl of his dreams. He sped up his pace to meet her on the road, and when she came near Stephen called out with a smile on his face,
“Good morning Julie!”
She looked up at him and froze. The expression on her face was not one Stephen wanted to see, as it showed fear and disgust. Stephen moved closer to her.
“Julie, are you alright?” He asked, slightly concerned at her reaction.
Suddenly, she broke herself of her trance, and smiled at Stephen.
“Yes, I was just daydreaming, that’s all. Why are you wearing those clothes, Stephen?”
Stephen was a bit taken aback with the revelation that she actually knew his name, but soon recovered.
“It’s just my work uniform. I’m working for Mr. Zittercob now.”
“I see” was the pensive response.
“Say, um, would you want to get a soda sometime. Sometime together?”
Stephen was internally beating his lights out for that stumble.
“Well, Stacy and I go after school sometimes, I suppose you’re welcome to join us.” She looked at him apologetically, “I really have to go now.”
“Sure, um, soda with you and Stacy would be swell. See you around I guess.”
Despite his internal boxing match, Stephen felt that encounter went better than the last. Perhaps it was just something that took time, he thought to himself. Mr. Zittercob’s drive was only a few paces away, and Stephen hurried up it, excited for both his job and the idea that he would get to spend more time with Julie, albeit a third wheel with Stacy Gordon.
As before, Mr. Zittercob was waiting for Stephen at the door. This time, the book and several pages of blank paper and two pencils were waiting for Stephen. He sat, picking up a pencil, studying the problem, and waited for instructions.
“Solf all ze marked problems.” The old man instructed as he made his to the kitchen. “Vould you like some coffee?”
“Yes please, sir.” Was Stephen’s reply as he began to work out the first problem, another complex riddle of mathematics. He was grateful for the coffee, as the numbers and equations began to swirl in his head. Eventually, he began to sort through them all, and within a few hours was finished with all of the equations presented to him. Mr. Zittercob studied Stephen’s work in silence, flipping through the pages, nodding to himself. Finally, he looked at Stephen and asked,
“How far is de moon from de earth?”
Stephen thought about it for a moment, this was something that came on the television quite often.
“Three hundred, eighty-four thousand, and four hundred kilometers, sir.”
“On average, but de answer vill do.” Mr. Zittercob began walking towards the back door. “Come, du haf training do to.”
Stephen rose tepidly, not sure what to expect. But he followed Mr. Zittercob across a field that seemed to stretch mile, towards the grain silos. As they grew closer, it became clear that one of the silos was unlike any silo Stephen had ever seen. It was far larger around, and there were what looked like tunnels blocked by large metal doors all around it, secured shut with massive iron bars. Each door was about twelve feet tall and eight feet wide, and were heavily reinforced. Mr. Zittercob kept a good pace until they reached a smaller door, also made of thick metal. He pulled out a set of keys and fumblingly unlocked the door, taking them into a narrow, domed hallway that led to another steel door, at which Mr. Zittercob stopped and turned to Stephen.
“Vat you see here, cannot be spoken ov.”
With that, he unlocked the door and opened it to reveal the secret locked in the grain silo.
The lights flickered on, and Stephen had to blink vigorously to reassure himself that his eyes were not lying to him. A rocket, eight stories tall, gleaming metal reflecting the light of the halogen bulbs as they flickered to life, humming with intensity as they illuminated the space, stood supported by braces in the center of the silo. At the top, Stephen could see several small portholes, and row of portholes went down the side of the rocket. Stephen could barely believe his eyes as he looked at it. It seemed as though he were caught in a fantastic dream, but yet all of his senses claimed that he was firmly lodged in reality. Steep ladders connected various levels that wrapped around the grain silo, and Mr. Zittercob was already on his way up one of them. Stephen hurried to follow, but Mr. Zittercob pointed to a ladder on the side of the braces for the rocket.
“You climb dat. It vill make you strong, you haf to be very strong.”
Stephen did not question the order, but was soon wondering why he didn’t as he climbed the ladder. The height seemed dizzying, and Stephen tried to not look down as he climbed. Being raised on a farm, Stephen was very accustomed to hard labor, but climbing six stories up a ladder was still something he had never dreamed he would do. By the time he reached the top, sweat covered his face, and he was trying to control his breathing. He still had to cross the narrow walkway that connected the brace to the walkway that lined the side of the silo. Mr. Zittercob was waiting for him on the other side, and offered a hand as Stephen leapt down onto the walkway.
“It becomes easier” He told Stephen.
They walked the remaining two levels together, Mr. Zittercob in the lead. They went across another narrow walkway, this one leading to a hatch sealed shut on the nose of the rocket. Mr. Zittercob turned to Stephen, his usual frown somehow hopeful.
“Stephen, do you vant to be de pilot?”
Stephen was fairly certain that his jaw hit the floor.
“Yes sir.” Were the only words he could muster.
“Gut.”
And without another word, Mr. Zittercob began the long trek down the stairs, sending Stephen down the way he came up.
Stephen’s feet seemed to never touch the ground as he walked home that night. The rest of the day with Mr. Zittercob had involved solving more problems and more going up and down the ladder. Though his body was completely exhausted, Stephen still felt like he was on the moon’s face already. On top of all that, he had a pocket full of money, thanks to his new employer. Gavroche was waiting for him at the end of their drive, ready to roam the fields, but all he got was a pat on the head as Stephen fell asleep on his bed as soon as the uniform was off.
Stephen awoke to Gavroche licking his face, telling him it was time to clean up for church. Bleary-eyed and sore, he stumbled to the bathroom and drew a bath, scrubbing himself clean as fast as he could. His mother and father were waiting in the dining room, eggs and bacon already set on the table. Stephen sat and scarfed the food down as quickly as he could. As soon as it was finished, his father rose to go out and start the pickup, a process that required finesse, choice words, and a wrench. The ride seemed long, as Stephen was paying closer attention to the silos on Mr. Zittercob’s farm. The service, too, seemed to drag, one because Stephen’s aching muscles made it painful to even hold the hymnal as they sang, but also because equations were still swimming in Stephen’s head. One glimmer of hope were the curls of Julie Wynne sitting next to her parents near the front of the church. Stephen couldn’t have told you what book, verse, or chapter the minister spoke on in the service, but could relate in great detail the status of Julie’s hair that Sunday morning. The rest of the day passed with Stephen doing his normal routine, even though it was Sunday, the work of a farm never truly stops. Gavroche was pleased that Stephen had enough energy to walk the fields that night. Tonight, however, Stephen looked at the moon not as a distant fantasy, but as a soon-coming reality. He and Gavroche sat under the tree and watched the flickering neon lights make their way to earth, beckoning him to come on the gleaming ship hidden away in a giant grain silo.
The days and weeks went by, and Stephen was soon required to know advanced anatomy, physiology, and biology to keep up with the lessons Mr. Zittercob was throwing at him. If he got something wrong, Mr. Zittercob would patiently explain it, and also reinforce that his life was on the line should he get any part of the equation wrong in the void of space. Stephen climbed the ladder daily, and began training on the controls, learning what each one did and how the ship would respond. Mr. Zittercob would blindfold him and make him perform engine operations with no sight or sound for guidance. School, by comparison, was a cakewalk. One day, as Stephen was working on an equation involving the effects of nitrogen in the bloodstream, Mr. Zittercob came from the kitchen carrying the two cups of coffee, as had become their custom. Unexpectedly, he sat and stared at Stephen.
“She iz a pretty girl.”
Stephen looked up from his work, confused.
“Excuse me, sir?”
“De girl you sveak to efry day on your vay here. You stop in front auf my mailbox and talk. Iz she your…” Mr. Zittercob trailed off, looking for the right word.
“Girlfriend?” Stephen laughed nervously, “No sir, she’s just…” This time it was Stephen’s turn to look for the right word.
“Someone you vish to be your girlfreund.”
Stephen blushed. Mr. Zittercob looked at him pointedly.
“Vy haf you not asked her to be your girlfreund?”
Stephen looked away, a little embarrassed.
“I don’t know sir. I guess I’m just shy.”
Mr. Zittercob leaned forwards and looked over his glasses at Stephen, eyes filled with knowledge gained from many years.
“Von ting I haf learned is to never let something gut pass. Do you not haf a dance soon?”
“Yes sir.”
“Take her to that. I vant you to ask her by tomorrow.”
With that, Mr. Zittercob rose, leaving Stephen alone with his thoughts and slightly terrified at the thought of asking Julie Wynne to the spring dance. Launching into space was one thing, but asking a girl out was an even more terrifying prospect.
The next day drug, tension mounting far more than it ever did even when Stephen was blindfolded and reassembling the thrusters. That was saying something, as they were pulse thrusters, far more advanced than anything Goodyear or Ford had in any of their fleets. But even then, Stephen never panicked when dealing with them. But today, he was sweaty, hands clammy, and his heart was racing faster than the horses at the Kentucky Derby. At lunch, he could barely look at Julie for fear she would somehow have a premonition of what he was about to ask and turn him down without him saying a word. After classes were over, Stephen donned his grey uniform, one of many that now lay neatly stacked in his closet, stuffed his clothed and books into a matching grey backpack, and headed down the lane to catch up with Julie. She walked alone, her red dress in sharp contrast to the budding green of spring.
“Hey Julie!” He called out to her, striding swiftly to catch up, “Hey, how are you doing?”
She turned and smiled at him, seeming to be lost in thought as she always was on her walks home.
“Hi Stephen, I’m fine. Thank you.”
“Say, um, let me carry your books for you.”
Stephen reached out and clumsily took her books, fumbling a bit before finding a resting place for them under his arm. Julie giggled a bit as he did this, and Stephen smiled back, unsure whether to laugh along or not. She turned to him, smiling a genuine smile.
“I guess that’s why you wear a backpack, huh?”
“Yeah, it keeps me from having to juggle the books all day.”
After that, there seemed to be a long and painful pause. Stephen finally worked up the courage to ask what he had been assigned.
“Say, do you have a date for the dance yet?”
Julie looked at him coyly, trying to hide her smile. She started down the lane again, Stephen fast on her heels.
“Well, do you?”
“No, I don’t.”
Stephen could almost choke on the lump in his throat. He swallowed a bit too loudly.
“Do you want to go with me?”
She stopped and looked at him, as if measuring some unseen mettle. Finally, she sighed as she turned away and started down the lane once more.
“Promise you won’t wear that silly grey uniform?” She asked.
“Yeah, I’ll wear something really nice, not these old duds. I mean, I just wear these for work and -“
“It’s okay, I know you’re proud of your uniform.”
Stephen stopped, a bit flabbergasted that she would know how he felt when he put it on.
“How would you figure that?” He asked.
“You strut like you’ve just been appointed captain of a starship to Mars when you put it on.”
Stephen looked away, he didn’t know that it was that obvious that he looked forwards to going to work on the rocket ship.
“I’m just really proud of what I do, that’s all.”
“You still want to grab that soda sometime?”
Stephen could barely contain his smile.
“With Stacy?”
“No, just us. We can go to the hop on Saturday if you like.”
“Sure, I’ll ask off early. I’ll pick you up around four, how’s that?”
Julie took her books back from Stephen and set off down the lane again, this time putting distance between the two of them.
“Yes,” she said over her shoulder, “that’s fine.”
“So we’re going to the dance together, right?”
Julie turned to him, face upturned in amusement.
“I wouldn’t ask you to wear something nice if I weren’t going to go with you, now would I?”
With that, she turned and walked down the lane once more, Stephen slack-jawed at his amazing luck.
Stephen nearly burst into Mr. Zittercob’s house with excitement. He raced to Mr. Zittercob, who was brewing coffee on the stove.
“She said yes, Mr. Zittercob!”
“I could haf guessed by your entrance. It is not difficult to sveak to girls, is it?”
“No sir, I suppose not.”
“Gut.” Mr. Zittercob moved to the table with coffee cups and sat, beckoning the still elated Stephen to join him. “From now on, no more learning. Ve vill be preparing to launch.”
The words hit Stephen like a hammer. They were actually going to launch. His dreams were coming true, he was going to be a pilot. Finally, he mustered up the words to speak.
“Where are we going, sir?”
“You vill be going to ze moon.”
Stephen suddenly felt very nervous.
“Where will you be sir?”
Mr. Zittercob looked at him with a gentle, but disapproving expression on his face.
“I vill be here, monitoring your progress, and keeping radio contact vis you.” He leaned back in his chair and sighed. “I am far too auld to venture into space. It is a lofly place though.”
Mr. Zittercob’s perennial frown gave way to the smile of remembrance.
“You’ve been? To space, I mean.”
“Of course. Vere else do you tink I got ze fancy clothes?”
He rose and began walking down the hallway towards the back. Stephen followed, wondering about what other mysteries the old German held. Mr. Zittercob turned into his bedroom and opened the closet. Hanging there, among the suits and shirts that made up Mr. Zittercob’s typical wardrobe, was a spacesuit, pale grey, and stiff to keep the wearer safe from the elements of the void. In the corner sat the tanks, gleaming with the light coming in from the window.
“It is yours now.” Mr. Zittercob said quietly. “You vill begin training in ze suit to prepare for launch.”
Stephen balked at it, this was a dream come true.
The dream soon felt like a nightmare, as the suit was bulky and stiff, despite being a thin, streamlined military design built for agile movement. But agile movement in space was a different game than agile movement on earth, and Stephen found himself cursing the suit as he climbed the ladder to reach the cockpit. The gloves made the controls hard to manage, and the engines were a nightmare to work on. When Mr. Zittercob added the helmet and air tanks, Stephen felt like he was in a totally different world. But he and the suit eventually melded into one, and working with the suit was like wearing a second skin. Dates with Julie were happening on a regular basis, and Mr. Zittercob had begun loaning Stephen the Rolls-Royce for dates, citing that the profanity needed to start the family pickup was unsuitable for a lady’s ears. There was not much to do in Milledgeville, so they would often go to the picture show in Chadwick and watch Buck Rogers fight aliens and monsters across the galaxy. Stephen spent more and more time in the rocket ship, practicing for the launch. Mr. Zittercob would guide him through simulations via radio, and they would sit down and work out equations together to nail down the best possible dates for launch and return. The school dance was also fast approaching, and Mr. Zittercob insisted on taking time out of their work to teach Stephen how to dance. One day, as Mr. Zittercob was correcting a step in Stephen’s Venetian Waltz with a broomstick partner, Stephen had to ask,
“Sir, what if she doesn’t know how to dance.”
The look Mr. Zittercob gave would have silenced even the most boisterous man on the planet.
“She iz a girl. Dey are born vis ze ability to dance. Of course she knows. Go back to valtzing.”
The only thing about the rocket that Stephen didn’t understand was the passenger bay. It was a small, but plush area that could seat about five people, and held all amenities of a private jet, plus zero-gravity showers. The seats could swing back against the wall after takeoff, and the area appeared to be more like an ultra modern living room than a spacecraft. The carpet was red, and there were gold runners on the sides of the cabin. Mr. Zittercob seemed unconcerned with that section of the ship, other than being certain it was clean and always stocked with supplies. They had begun test-firing the rockets in short busts, as to avoid detection, making certain that each of the engines worked. The rockets would glow blue and a throbbing hum would resound throughout the silo. The ship would vibrate as the rockets tried to lift into the atmosphere even at low power. Stephen could not help but be in awe of the power of the rockets as they pulsed to life. Mr. Zittercob would watch them with a dim smile on his face, watching his ultimate creation in action. The time flew for Stephen, and the date was soon set for launch, just a few days after his graduation. But first was the school dance, which worried Stephen more than the possibility of hurtling through space. Mr. Zittercob took him to Rockford to buy clothes for the dance, scowling at the salesman who tried to put Stephen in a white suit, asking if he had lost his mind. Stephen would up in a black suit, expertly tailored, with matching shoes. When it came time to pay, Mr. Zittercob stepped forwards and pulled out his billfold, paying in full on the spot. When Stephen tried to protest, Mr. Zittercob silenced him.
“Du get von shot at a senior dance. I vill not allow you to go looking like a slob.”
Stephen did not argue after that.
The night of the dance arrived, and Stephen could hardly stand his nervousness. He paced the floor of Mr. Zittercob’s house, back forth, without stopping. Mr. Zittercob sat at the table, reading.
“Be careful, you vill vear a hole in my floor.”
Stephen turned to him, a pensive look on his face.
“What if goes poorly? What if I just embarrass myself in front of her?”
“You vill embarrass yourself in front of her, and she in front of you. It is how you deal vis it dat determines your result.”
Mr. Zittercob had to look up from his book, pointedly ignoring Stephen’s nervous pre-date pacing had become somewhat common.
“Do you haf the corsage?” He asked.
“Yes sir.”
Mr. Zittercob finally looked up at Stephen, setting his book to the side.
“Efryting vill be fine. Take the car, and go haf fun.”
Stephen relented, knowing that it was pointless to argue with Mr. Zittercob, and that he was right anyways. Taking the keys from the table, he went out to the barn that housed the car, and tried to calm his nerves. As he drove down the lane, Stephen saw Mr. Zittercob on the porch, watching. The sun was just setting as he pulled up to Julie’s house. Her mother smiled at him from the yard, her arms full of laundry fresh off the line. Julie’s father and brothers were just coming in from the fields. Stephen always got the impression that the brothers didn’t like him very much, but assured himself that they were just being overprotective siblings. He got out and began walking towards the house, corsage in hand. It seemed that the walk took forever.
“Stephen, you look so handsome!” Mrs. Wynne gushed as he approached. “Just wait until you see Julie, she is stunning.”
They walked together to the house, Stephen opening the door for her as they entered.
“Julie! Stephen is here!” Mrs. Wynne called down the hall.
Stephen’s jaw went slack as he watched Julie come down the hall. She wore a navy blue dress that came down to her knees, her curls falling around her face, creating the perfect frame for her smile. She blushed when she saw Stephen, and he blushed as well. Her red heels clicked on the wood floor, and for a while, that was the only sound to be heard, as all parties were breathless.
“Hi” Stephen finally stammered out.
“Hi” was the nerve-wracked response.
Just then, Mr. Wynne entered through the side door.
“Did I miss the sticking?” He asked with a grin on his face.
“James!” his wife reprimanded.
“What?” James asked, shrugging, “I just want to see who pokes who first. Well, who’s first?”
Nervously, Stephen took out the corsage, pin at the ready. Julie bit her lip, preparing to be poked. As tenderly as he could, he pinned it on, miraculously managing to avoid thrusting the needle into her skin. Julie’s turn came, and her hand shook slightly as it rose to pin the flower on Stephen’s lapel. When no blood was drawn on either front they both looked at Mr. Wynne and smiled victoriously. Mr. Wynne shook his head and laughed, walking over to give his daughter a hug before the most important night of her young life. She and Stephen left, walking to the car hand in hand.
When they arrived at the school gymnasium, it was already filling with students and chaperones. Music was playing, and the inside of the gym was lined with streamers and balloons. Many of the students stood on the sidelines, too afraid to dance and make fools of themselves. A waltz came on, and Stephen knew that if he didn’t take Julie onto the dance floor Mr. Zittercob would have his hide. He led Julie to the center of the mostly empty dance floor, it being only occupied by a few couples, most of them staring at the floor and counting “one, two, three” as they stepped awkwardly, having only been given a crash course by their mothers the day before. Stephen took a breath, and then took Julie’s hand as he had been instructed. His feet moved with precision, and Julie followed his lead, giving the impression that the two were floating across the gym floor. She smiled as he spun her, and it seemed as if the whole world had drifted away and had been replaced by a dizzying cascade of lights and music. When the song ended, Stephen looked around to find that they were the only two on the dance floor, the rest of the school watching them as they danced. He and Julie grinned nervously, but were soon joined by the rest of the school as the rocking grooves of Fats Domino replaced the silence after the waltz. The rest of the night went smoothly and Stephen even managed to avoid spilling the punch on either of them. The drive back seemed quiet in comparison to the loud fun of the dance, but the air was still full of happiness and young love. When they arrived at the Wynne farm all the lights were dark, but the moon shone bright, illuminating the night. Julie got out and leaned against the car, staring at the moon. Stephen joined her, offering his suit jacket, as the spring air was still cool and small goose bumps were forming on her arms.
“One day I’d like to go there. The moon.” She said, wrapping the jacket around her and scooting closer to Stephen, “Think about it, they say it’s the greatest place ever.”
Stephen looked at the moon, it shining down on them in all of its entire splendor.
“I guess we’ll just have to find out.” He responded.
She looked at him and giggled. Stephen smiled and looked at her eyes, as big as the moon itself. They leaned in to kiss when a window flew open and her youngest brother stuck his out, yelling.
“Kissy, kissy, poo, poo!”
“Frederick!” Julie yelled back, angry. She turned to Stephen, embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s okay, he’s just a kid.”
She smiled at him patronizingly, and then kissed him on the cheek, handing him back the jacket to storm into the house, presumably to unleash her wrath on Frederick. Stephen stood, jacket in hand, unsure of what to do, as Mr. Zittercob’s lessons had not prepared him for this.
Stephen’s wrench slipped off the nut, clattering to the floor. He cursed bitterly as he reached down to get it. Something had seemed amiss since the night of the dance, but Stephen couldn’t place his finger on it for the life of him. His radio crackled to life,
“You haf tree minutes to return to ze cockpit.”
Stephen wiped the sweat off his brow, then keyed his radio.
“Three minutes, good copy.”
He shook off the frustration of the dropped wrench and went back to securing the bolt. It didn’t help matters that the engine made the temperature in the compartment well over 100 degrees Fahrenheit. Once the bolt was secure, Stephen started the long climb to the top of the rocket, careful to secure all of the hatches as he climbed. The long trip was easy to him now, and he made it to the cockpit with time to spare, strapping into the pilot’s seat. He plugged his headset into the jack and keyed the mic again.
“Good to go, all engines online.”
After a slight delay, simulating the time it would take for a radio message to reach earth and relay to be sent, Mr. Zittercob came over the speaker again.
“Gut. Come to ze kitchen.”
“Wilco”
Stephen shut down the engines, keying the cool down sequence as he unplugged his headset and took off the safety harness that kept him securely in the seat. He leapt down and opened the hatch, breathing in fresh, cool air. The blue light kicked on, telling Stephen that the cool down sequence was over, and he was clear to leave the ship. Relieved, he started the long climb down.
Mr. Zittercob was waiting for him with a tall glass of water, which Stephen gulped down as soon as it was handed to him. Mr. Zittercob motioned for him to sit at the table.
“Vy haf you been so distant?”
Stephen shook his head, not entirely sure of how to answer.
“Haf you been on any more dates vis her?”
“No sir.”
“Vy not?”
“We’ve been taking tests, and getting ready for the launch and graduation have taken up a lot of time.”
Mr. Zittercob leaned back in his chair, nodding as he processed the information.
“Do you lof her?”
Stephen took a moment and truly thought about the implications to his answer.
“Yes sir, I do.”
“Vy do you lof her?”
“I… um, er, ah” Stephen’s voice descended into a series of stammers. “I don’t know. I just do. There’s not really a good reason other than I just love her.”
“Gut, that gifs you a chance.”
Mr. Zittercob looked at the calendar on the wall, there were only a few weeks until the launch. He turned back to Stephen and sighed deeply.
“Bring her vis you on Saturday.”
“Sir?”
Stephen was incredulous because Mr. Zittercob had been insistent that the whole project was to be kept secret, something that Stephen had honored the whole time he had been working on the ship.
“Bring her. Trust me.”
Stephen had been trusting Mr. Zittercob since he had begun, and saw no reason to stop now. He nodded in agreement and then sipped his water, wondering what Julie’s reaction would be.
“I don’t want to go.”
Her eyes could have burned a hole in a steel door. By this time, Stephen was pleading with her to just get in the car and go with him to Mr. Zittercob’s farm, but Julie was having nothing of it. Her hair was wrapped in orange-juice cans that doubled as rollers, her face bore no makeup, and the dress she wore was just a regular brown housedress, on contrast to the usual brightly-colored dresses she wore on a regular basis.
“Please, Julie. It won’t even be for long, and I’ll bring you right back.”
“I can’t even believe that you’re seeing me like this. It’s embarrassing.”
That last sentence confused Stephen greatly.
“Why?” he asked, innocently.
Julie looked as though she could throttle him.
“Because I’m not, I’m… I’m not…”
Fredrick came tearing down the hall, face filled with wicked delight.
“Because it takes a lot of makeup to make you pretty!” he yelled.
“Fredrick, shut up!” Julie yelled back before turning back to Stephen. “I’m just not ready to go out.”
Stephen looked at her, knowing it was a lost cause. Just then, her father entered, wiping the mud from his boots, but not good enough, as he left tracks through the house. Stephen turned to leave, not sure what Mr. Zittercob’s reaction would be when he returned alone.
“I guess some other time then.”
“What are you trying to make her do?” Mr. Wynne’s voice carried from the kitchen.
Stephen was unsure of how to respond, and could only make general noises.
“He’s trying to get me to go to Mr. Zittercob’s farm with him.”
“So why aren’t you going?”
“My hair is wrapped around Donald Duck cans!”
“So?”
“Dad!”
Mr. Wynne walked into the living room from the kitchen, slice of bread in hand.
“Julie, if I know one thing, it’s that if I was offered a ride in a Rolls-Royce, I’d take it even if my hair was cased in motor oil.” He looked at her meaningfully, “Plus, it’ll get you away from a holy terror named Fred for a while.”
Julie threw up her hands in resignation and stormed off to the bathroom.
“James Wynne!” The cry of Mrs. Wynne came from the kitchen, “You have tracked mud in my house again! Take your boots off, get a broom, and clean it up!”
Mr. Wynne rolled his eyes and walked into the kitchen to face the wrath of his wife.
Julie sat in silence, her hair in loose curls due to being taken out of the rollers early. Her face was very lightly made up, and she had on a simple blue dress with matching shoes. The whole outfit had taken ten minutes to throw together. Stephen thought it was a great look for her, but didn’t dare say anything because he was fearful of the anger seeping from Julie at the moment. As they pulled up, Mr. Zittercob was waiting on the porch, and came out to open the door for Julie. He led the way, and she and Stephen followed him through the house and over the field to the grain silo. Stephen held his breath as the two doors were opened, waiting for Julie’s reaction. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the rocket, gleaming in the lights of the silo.
“Is this real?” She asked in bewilderment.
Stephen nodded yes, smiling. Mr. Zittercob waited for the reality of it to sink in, and then began climbing the steps, beckoning then to follow. Instinctively, Stephen started for the ladder.
“Stephen, do not climb ze ladder ven du haf a lady zis you.”
Stephen gratefully rejoined them, happy to be with Julie as she took in the ship and all of its glory. When they reached the top, Stephen opened the cockpit and showed Julie in.
“Who’s going to fly this?” She asked.
Mr. Zittercob nodded to Stephen.
“He is.”
At that point, Stephen wasn’t sure if Julie was going to kiss him or kill him. Given her disposition at the beginning of the day, he assumed it was that latter. He tepidly approached her.
“It’s perfectly safe Julie. I know every inch of this ship.”
“Have you ever actually flown a rocket?”
“Er… no.” He wasn’t sure where to go from there.
Mr. Zittercob put his hand on Julie’s shoulder reassuringly.
“He has trained on ze rocket daily fur almost a year. He vill be fine.”
Stephen looked at Julie, she was not reassured in the slightest. He beckoned her to follow him through the rocket, and proceeded to give the grand tour, careful to point out all of the safety features. After he was able to show Julie that he really did know the ship inside and out she relaxed a bit. Mr. Zittercob took them into the house and made coffee, allowing them to sit and talk about the ship and it’s very soon departure date. One thing that confused Julie was the passenger area.
“So is it meant to be cruise liner?” She asked.
“Somefing like zat.”
“And Stephen will be the pilot?”
“Yes.” Mr. Zittercob set his coffee down, “He vill go alone ze first few trips.”
Julie looked at the two of them, a frown of confusion darkening her face.
“So why am I here?”
Stephen hadn’t thought to ask Mr. Zittercob why, and was now at a loss for words. Thankfully, Mr. Zittercob was not.
“Du are here because ze rocket is not to be spoken auf. Du now haf a secret to share. And it gifs Stephen more incentif to return safely.”
Julie folded her arms, almost as confused as Stephen.
“So I’m here because Stephen needs to return safely and share his secret with me?”
“Dat is correct.”
“Why does he need to share a secret with me?”
Mr. Zittercob shrugged.
“Zey bring people together. Or drife zem apart. Vat vill you choose?”
With that, Mr. Zittercob brought out the book and had him solve several problems before sending the both of them to Sterling with a pocket full of money and firm instructions to enjoy themselves.
It turned out that Mr. Zittercob was right. Secrets did bring people closer, and drove them apart. Stephen and Julie became closer than ever before, but the outside world seemed to drift away for the both of them. School was flying by, and graduation was only days away before either of them realized it. Their respective mothers fretted about what would happen to them after high school, and there was much hugging and crying. The fathers were also worried, but kept their feelings reserved. The end of adolescence was at hand, and adulthood was looming in the horizon. For Stephen, the world already seemed a distant past as he prepared both mentally and physically to literally leave it all behind. The landing zone had been set, an unused field. Stephen would deploy stopping parachutes and then guide the ship to a gentle stop. Or so he hoped. The closer to the launch date it became, the more nervous Julie was. She often looked up at the moon and sighed, squeezing Stephen’s hand a little tighter for a moment, as if to keep him on the ground just a little longer.
The band played “Pomp and Circumstance” as the students marched across the stage to receive their diplomas. One trumpet player was severely lost and just guessing at the notes, giving everyone a headache and a chuckle. Mr. Zittercob sat next to Stephen’s parents, applauding as he crossed the stage. When the students took their seats again, Mr. Wefal, the principal, took his place at the podium. He cleared his throat and began to speak.
“Students, family, friends, thank you for being a part of this great school for the past four years. I know it hasn’t been easy, but I know that it has been worth it for each and every one of you. You have all poured your heart and soul into everything you have done, and for that I am most grateful. But rather than focus on the past, I would like address the future. You all have the potential to do great things. You all are able to touch lives. And I bequeath each and every one of you to never stop trying. Because you if you do not stop, even the stars are within your grasp.”
And with that ceremony and speech, childhood was over.
The day came for the launch. Stephen packed uniforms, books, his bible and a picture of Julie into his backpack. Gavroche watched him and whimpered. He knelt down and scratched the dog’s ears.
“Don’t worry boy, I’ll be home soon.”
Gavroche responded by pressing his head into Stephen’s chest, emitting low cries. Stephen petted him reassuringly, not certain who’s fears he was trying to calm. After saying goodbye to Gavroche, Stephen started the long walk to Mr. Zittercob’s farm. The sun shone down, filling the earth with bright spring warmth. His boots flattened the familiar dirt, leaving tracks as he walked. When he arrived at the farm, Mr. Zittercob was waiting at the table. They went together to the silo, walking together in silence. They ran tests and diagnostics of every engine and system three times, just to be sure. When Stephen finally emerged from the rocket, Julie was waiting.
“Mr. Zittercob let me in. I just came to wish you luck.” She said, biting her lip.
“Thanks” Stephen replied nervously.
And with that, she kissed him.
Mr. Zittercob fastened Stephen’s helmet into place, a gesture of good luck and farewell. The night had fallen and all was still as Stephen climbed into the rocket and took his seat, plugging in his radio jack to the console. He flipped the switches to warm up the engines, settling into a routine that had become second nature to him. Mr. Zittercob’s voice crackled over the radio.
“Ze ports of ze silo are open, increase throttle.”
“Increase throttle, good copy.”
Stephen pushed up on the throttle and the ship began to hum to life. He heard the braces swing away from the ship, and the top of the silo opened to clear him for takeoff.
“Du are cleared to launch.”
“See you in a few days, sir.”
The mic keyed, and after a few seconds Julie’s voice cracked through his speakers.
“Stephen, I love you.”
Stephen keyed his mic, gulping as he did so.
“I love you too Julie.”
And with that, Stephen pushed the throttle to maximum, sending the rocket into the night.
The End