6. TAKE OFF!

THE CASE OF MERCURY RISING, 6

Despite his reservations, Blinky arrived, eyes No doubt temporarily working to their full capacity, to see us off. It was a beautiful day for the time of year, clear blue skies and yet with a sprinkling of snow on the ground and a fresh chill in the air. It was the sort of day it would have been cosy sitting in front of a warm fire and supping a pint of good ale.

I had only seen a photograph of Igor’s space vessel before and when we stood in front of it the reality might have been a very different vehicle. I suppose it might have been something to do with perspective, but rather than the cigar shaped thing I had pictured this was more like an elongated flying saucer from a kid’s comic that I read way back when anything had seemed possible to me. I suppose the best description is that it was a bit like a vertical rugby ball with a starched inflexible skirt round its middle.

And it was much smaller than I’d thought, too. I suppose my image of a space vehicle that’s got to do a big job is a big machine, but this wasn’t that big at all.

“Well, that’s it,” said Igor proudly, “not much to look at, but there’s enough room inside it for two.”

“What about a toilet?” asked the ever-practical Angelina, “I need to know there’s a proper toilet and privacy when I’m using it.”

“That’s always the first thing she thinks of,” I apologised for her to Igor.

“And so it should be,” he nodded, grinning, “there’s a toilet and washroom all right, and the water will be recycled so that it is totally pure, though there are tanks full of the fresh stuff too. I’ve tested that side of purifying used water for the past six months in my cave and the water remains eminently drinkable even after that long...”

“It doesn’t sound very nice,” grunted Blinky, “drinking each other’s piss!”

“That’s what all of us do all the time,” said Igor, a bit tetchily, “if you think about it,” he went on, “the only water on planet Earth goes round and round in endless cycles of raining down, being drunk, urinated out, evaporated, forming clouds, raining down, drunk again… all the time. Someone said that at least one molecule of the fresh water you drink probably passed through Shakespeare’s kidneys back in his day!”

“It’s best not to think about it,” I said, knowing that Igor was probably right, “or we’ll be living Romeo and Juliet!”

“You should be gone about two months, give or take,” said Igor, “plenty of time to get to know each other really well.”

“Give or take what?” asked Angelina, “I thought things like space travel could be calculated down to the half second or less!”

“I’m not totally sure about speeds,” confessed Igor, “I only took a brief test flight and it worked as I expected it to, but out in space I’m not totally sure … the computer on board will see that you’re okay, making constant little adjustments as you go along and my calculations are probably spot on. Hopefully.”

“Sounds very rough and ready,” growled Blinky, “you sure my staff will be okay, Igor? I mean, not in danger?”

“Of course there’s danger,” he sighed, “there’s danger everywhere and every day or our lives, and some of it unpredictable. I mean, an isolated pebble in the vastness of space could find its way down to Earth at any moment, could arrive right here, white hot, and bonk you on the head. That’s danger, and just because it hardly ever happens doesn’t mean it couldn’t happen, here and now, to you, Blinky.”

“All right, all right,” he growled, and I could tell by looking at him that he was about to enter a blind phase.

“Better sit down somewhere, Blinky,” I said. But there was nowhere for him to sit except on the icy ground and he didn’t fancy that, so he stood there, trying not to sway. Igor could see his predicament and grabbed him by one elbow.

“Time to see the brave adventurers off,” he said to our sightless leader.

It was a simple job getting aboard the vessel because there were steps that lowered and raised at a word of command, which was useful. Blinky and Igor remained on terra firma and Angelina and I, hearts in mouths, slowly mounted the half dozen steps that led to a tightly fitting airlock door.

We had no luggage with us because our things, a couple of suitcases each, had already been stashed away on board by Igor, and we’d have to find them ourselves when we wanted something.

“It’s all voice commands from now on,” called Igor, “tell it what you want it to do and if it knows the words it will do it. There’s a list of the more common instructions in a note book for you to consult when you’ve got the time. But the first thing you must do is make sure you understand everything, then you can take off at your will. It’s as easy as that. Be seated, though, because it’ll have to reach a fairly stiff speed to get away, but remember, it works on a principle of rejecting gravitational fields and selecting those that will help, so the first thing you’ll experience is weightlessness.”

Why couldn’t he have gone through all this before we climbed aboard? I asked myself the question, and I was about to suggest that much to him when his voice cut through the air “doors close”, and that door closed in front of us.

Angelina and I were inside an airlock that opened onto the inside of a metal rugby ball when an opposite door slid silently open. It reminded us by its very existence that this machine and us in it were going into space before the day was out.

“Let’s find that notebook,” suggested Angelina, “we ought to really know what we’re doing. I must say Igor’s a bit minimal when it comes to the education of his astronauts.”

“Yes, that’s what we’ll be: astronauts,” I said, realising the true implications of what we were doing, possibly for the first time.

The notebook was on a coffee table, of all things, which was bolted to the floor between two comfortable looking chairs, which were also bolted to the floor.

The first instruction, alone on the first page of the book, was quite simple.

TELL THE VESSEL TO TAKE OFF AND WHEN YOU’RE UP AND AWAY YOU’LL HAVE TIME TO STUDY THE REMAINDER OF THIS BOOK it read.

I looked at Angelina, and she smiled back at me. I love that smile of hers.

“You or me?” she asked,

“Ladies first,” I told her, “and let’s see just how well it works.!”

“If it works,” she said.

“I heard that!” came Igor’s voice through a speaker on the curved wall, “it is programmed to obey your first command, and after that you’ll have to follow the instructions. Fare well and success, my friends, I’ll be thinking of you non-stop until your return.”

“Sorry,” giggled Angelina, and then, “Take off!” she ordered sharply in what I would rapidly come to understand as her talking-to-machines voice.

There was little more than a humming sound and no other sensation than a feeling, suddenly, of almost complete weightlessness. Igor had warned us, but even so the sensation made me feel slightly nauseous.

“We should have had training,” muttered Angelina, and the wall speaker in Igor’s voice, slightly irritably, said “there was no time for such a luxury! Now listen. From now on you’re on your own. Instructions are in the book. Good luck!”

“In this book?” I asked, looking at Angelina, and the speaker remained silent. We were on our own. Truly on our own.

And neither of us had a clue what to do when it crossed our minds that the book of instructions was very thin indeed.

© Peter Rogerson, 18.02.20