22. A PROPOSAL

THE CASE OF MERCURY RISING, 22

“Mr Grimsdyke? I hadn’t forgotten him and his friends,” I said, “it’s just that it’s been uncomfortable thinking about him, knowing there isn’t very much we can do to help, and in actual fact their situation is largely of their own making.”

“Harrumph.” interjected the computer.

“Mercury Rising, yes?” I asked.

“We have the capacity for a short hop from the lunar surface to Mother Earth,” it said, “if, that is, there are only four of them. It wouldn’t be so cosy, as you call it, and a bit of a crowd, but there’s enough room as long as they don’t mind sitting on the floor for some of the journey. After all, it comes under the general heading of being a rescue, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose so,” I said, thinking, “look, Mercury Rising, we’re several weeks away from the moon, which gives us time to think about it.”

“Agreed,” murmured the computer, getting, I thought, to sound more like a human being with every passing day. Igor had quite obviously programmed it to learn.

But the problem of the men and at least one pregnant woman on the moon hung in the air as we started the return leg of our mission, probably because neither Angelina nor I had much to do. Everything, so far, had gone to plan and been much simpler than my wildest dreams had suggested it might. In fact, rather than saying ‘too much to do’, neither Angelina nor I had anything to do. Mercury Rising was totally automatic and even made most decisions without consulting either of us. In fact, I got the distinct impression that the computer considered us totally superfluous and that it would have been happier not having us to think about. Though to attribute such emotions as happiness to any machine goes against my normal understanding of their place in the world.

It would be easy to spin the next few weeks out, explaining how Angelina and I managed to stay close friends when I would almost certainly have ended up rowing with just about any other human being I came upon. It would also be just as easy to give a run-down of the plots of the dozen or so old films Igor had included in his package of entertainments that were intended to keep us happy even though we had to watch them too many times for comfort. But that would all be a waste of space because, in essence, nothing happened that either of us found noteworthy.

Eventually, we passed the orbit of Venus, but that planet had worked its way to be on the far side of the sun and a great deal further away from us, in actual fact, than was the Earth and its small companion, the moon. So we had no chance to see if Mistress Flutterby had landed or was still in orbit round that torrid planet. It might have been nice to know.

Then we were on the very last leg: at least, it was the last leg to the moon. Beyond that was the tiny trip back home, and if our ship continued to be as reliable as it had so far, that would be a doddle.

“It’s funny,” said Angelina as we hurtled along, “it’s not been anything like I had expected before we set out. I even imagined us getting greasy with oil and stuff from a dirty engine room, not the simple almost boring days and weeks we’ve spent with, let’s face it, nothing to do and nowhere to get mucky!”

“I sometimes wonder why Igor wanted us to come along at all,” I told her, “because the ship could have managed perfectly well by itself, I’m sure.”

“Harrumph,” came out of the ships speakers once again, “there is one thing that would have not been done without passengers and that’s the important matter of Igor’s diamonds. That was the sole reason for your inclusion in this voyage, to place the cushion where the vacuum of space would easily suck it out once the outer door was open. Igor thought there might be a chance of it ending up stuck in a corner if they were placed there before we left Earth and the ride got rocky! His words, not mine, I’m a machine and don’t do rocky! I don’t even know what he meant by rocky And you’re also here to change the back-up batteries should that be needed, which it hasn’t been. But if it had been, I have no means of doing it myself.”

I frowned. “Igor mentioned those,” I said, “he said torch batteries and I can’t help wondering what use those would be!”

“There was always a chance we might spend a longish time on the dark side of Venus and not exposed to the sun, and if we had the backup batteries, just four double ”A” size if you must know, would have kept my circuits from freezing even though you’d have to put up with being in the dark.”

“But your circuits are quite warm enough?” I asked.

The computer chortled at that. There’s no doubt about it, the thing was doing irs best to become almost too human. “Just you keep on talking and I’ll be okay,” it said.

“I think we’ll watch a film,” I said, peevishly, “what do you fancy, Angelina?”

“I don’t,” she said, “I want to talk about the man in the moon, because we’ll have to rescue them, you know. As far as I’m aware there’s nobody else likely to make the trip to the moon any time now.”

“It’s a quandary,” I mused, “and something we ought to ask Igor about. After all it’s his ship and we’re technically in his employ. But stranded humans on a dead little world… I don’t think he ever contemplated the possibility of meeting them or anyone like them, not even in his wildest nightmares!”

“The computer said it’s just about possible for us to cope with the extra bodies,” she said, “but I was thinking of room. If there are four of them, and the Grimsdyke bloke said there were, with a fifth on the way, it’s going to get rather crowded on board this craft. And bear in mind, we’ve only got the one bed, and fond as we are of each other it gets a bit crowded even for us.”

“They’ll have to use the floor, then,” I said, firmly. “I’m not squeezing anyone else in our bunk. I’d prefer to sit on the loo for the night than that! There are our chairs, of course, which should seat two, and if we’re in our bunk all I can think is that they’ll have to take it in shifts to sit down.”

“As long as we all get back to Earth safely,” she murmured.

“And I can’t wait,” I said quietly, “because, I tell you what...”

“Yes?”

“I think we should get married.” There it was. I spat it out suddenly without giving it any more thought, though to tell the truth the idea had been bubbling away in my mind since before we set out from Earth.

“Married?” queried Angelina, “why?”

“Because .. well, because I love you,” I said, maybe a little awkwardly “And what’s more I always want to be with you.”

“Oh dear,” she said quietly, “oh very dear...”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because if we got married, exchanged vows in front of an audience of friends and so on, there’s a real chance, a horribly real chance that even though we’ve found our heaven, that would help turn it into a hell.”

© Peter Rogerson 05.03.20