Writing for Fun
June 2015
Thank You Sarah Brightman - Vivian Burdon
Mia Victoria Vasquez remembered the first time she experienced zero gravity as she gazed on the darkening planet below. It had been a searingly bright sunny morning at the Gagarin Cosmonaut Training Center. Her step had been preternaturally light as she made her way to the hanger housing the massive International Space Station simulators. Weightlessness had been everything she could have dreamt of and yet, like nothing she could have imagined. A mixture of nausea and elation, fear and exhilaration had left her giddy and worryingly incoherent for hours. She had pulled through just in time, just as they were about to pull the plug on yet another space tourist.
She, like others, had used 'Space Adventures USA' to broker a multimillion-dollar flight. Her fitness and intelligence had been tested to its limits. She had gone on to pass the Group Training Phase specializing on Soyuz and ISS skills. Space tourists weren't expected to do the final Crew Training Phase. Space tourists just needed to be fit enough and possess enough coping skills for getting along with the professional astronauts and cosmonauts in the confined space of the International Station. Any other basic skills, like languages and technical knowhow, were considered a bonus.
Once in possession of your cosmonaut credentials all that was left to do was wait your turn. Since the decision to reduce the ISS permanent crew size to five it had become increasingly difficult to hitch a lift on Soyuz launches no matter how much money you threw at the agencies. Mia fought the notion that money was still working for some as she plodded daily through basic holding training while others flew away on her dreams.
Her time had come, though and here she was, euphoric in space, and useful! Language skills had elevated her to a position slightly higher than the worms currently the focus of life science experiments in Kibo module. Mia and the other four crew members read like a UN delegates list. They got on remarkably well given their diversity and proximity and the unexpected monotony of day to day living.
Nothing – she had thought – nothing, could ever dampen the joy and exhilaration she felt at being in space and seeing her beautiful world, Gaia. That wondrous blue planet which, by absolute chance, was so full of life. A miracle amongst the infinite miracle that was space. She could live a lifetime in Cupula, the observatory module, just gazing at the stars in wonder.
But now, this now, was filled with anguish. She closed her eyes and reflected on the nations that had space programs and successfully launched rockets. India she 'picked at' particularly in her thoughts. Why space? Why waste so much money on space exploration when there was so much poverty? Space exploration brought scientific advancements, Earth saving technologies. Is that what they were after? Not space itself?
She opened her eyes again hoping to see something different, but nothing had changed. Rapid snippets of seemingly unrelated news reports fast forwarded through her brain exposing, with startling clarity, the inevitable bigger picture, the terrible conclusion. Like at the beginning of those post-apocalypse block busters. She grappled to regain her train of thought, to revel once again in the marvel of international cooperation in space exploration, and everything that mankind had accomplished and revealed. The fragile veneer of her comforting reverie was shattered once again by the nagging whisper, the fact that must be acknowledged. That mankind had another spectacular scientific advancement. The same nations were in that other club . . . The Nuclear Club: Russia, America, China, France, the UK – the usual suspects, and of course India – again for heaven's sake, and Pakistan and North Korea. And finally Israel, for so long maintaining a policy of deliberate ambiguity, at last she had pinned her colours to that deadly mast.
'So, little Mia, what got you onto the last Soyuz flight from Earth, your name wasn't on the final manifest?' Andreas Shevchenko's clipped English chopped through her reverie. His entry into Copula had been deliberately silent so as not to alarm her.
'Oh . . . er . . . Sarah, Sarah Brightman dropped out at the last minute; family reasons. My turn? I guess.' Andreas turned to look at the gathering darkness over earth.
'So a turn of a card got you off mother Earth just in time. Tell me Mia? Are we lucky or are we damned?' He smiled at her. They were the only ones left. The other crew members had taken their lives in despair. 'Where I come from Mia means 'longs for a child', 'a bitter woman', 'a rebellious woman', such sad things for so lovely a name.'
'I prefer the rebellious woman part,' she smiled as a tear rolled down her cheek.
Andreas pulled out a quarter bottle of vodka and cautiously cuddled up to her. 'Well, let us rebel together. Sit back Mia and make yourself comfortable. We have the only tickets for the last show on earth!'