I can remember a time that I didn’t give the sun a second thought. It was the sun, what was there to think about?
When I started teaching Earth Science to high-schoolers with a questionable amount of interest I became immersed in astronomy. I’d always had a reasonable respect for stars and all their gravitational, fusion-driven glory, but I turned a corner. Facing the extreme weirdness of space made it undeniably appealing.
But, do you want to know a secret? While I think space is cool, and I love both learning about it and teaching it, I’m terrified of it. Maybe something about its vastness (the next nearest star to ours is 4.3 lightyears away, and there isn’t much in between us and it). Maybe it’s how lonely space must be with all of that nothing…
Or maybe it’s the simple matter of how fast things in space are moving and how there isn’t enough pressure or oxygen to survive if your life support goes bad. (spoiler, this is why space freaks me out!)
No matter. I have a healthy mix of fascination and somber respect for the awesomeness of space, so when I saw an artful picture of the sun sinking into the Colorado mountains on Instagram with the title “93 Million Miles,” the story just happened inside my head.
Without further ado, I bring you this week’s Flash Fiction:
93 Million Miles
Jill N Davies
It was a fate fitting of a criminal—an act of revenge. Condemning a person to burn up in the sun was the correct thing to do to someone who didn’t belonged amidst the people of Earth.
But Alfred Jacobs wasn’t a criminal. He was a respected astrophysicist with three space trips to his name already. He was the first black man to walk on the moon—an American hero. So why was he being shot into the sun?
Alfred was grappling with this at the age of 63, so how was he supposed to explain it to a bunch of middle schoolers?
He adjusted his NASA tie and rested his hands on the wobbly, chipped-wood podium before beginning.
“Earth’s star is 93 million miles away. To put that distance in perspective, if we sent you into orbit, you would have to travel around the globe 3,735 times to make that distance, which is just a technical way to say it’s really far.”
His audience giggled. Their nervous, awkward energy put him at ease.
“It’s going to take the Vector approximately 80 years to make the trip.”
As expected, hands shot into the air. He pointed to a boy in the back.
“You’re already kinda old. Won’t you die before you get there?” The boy blurted. His teacher’s eyes went wide.
Alfred loved the way that children didn’t hold back. They didn’t think about how such a statement might make him feel. Their worlds were small, and self-centered. Alfred enjoyed being a part of changing that.
“Hopefully. That’s the idea of sending someone who’s already old, like me,” He said.
The children in the audience buzzed with incredulous looks and whispers. Alfred waited patiently for the hum to die down.
“Assuming the mission is successful, the Vector will be torn apart by heat and solar winds before it reaches the center of the sun. It would be pretty crummy to still be around when that happens.”
Another hand.
“If you can’t get there without burning up or dying, then what’s the point?” the girl asked.
Alfred expected this question also.
“The ship will collect data and relay it back to Earth until it’s too damaged to do so. Things like temperature, radiation and solar wind patterns. NASA will use that information to solve some of our biggest challenges with climate change,” he explained.
It went on like this, with Alfred explaining technical information in a way that the young audience could understand, and them asking the most important questions—how he might die, or how the sun’s energy would destroy the craft.
Throughout the presentation Alfred noticed a small girl sitting in front. She wore thick glasses and a white shirt with the NASA logo. At first, she took notes, but after a while she just sat there, almost despondent.
When things started to wrap up, she raised her hand.
“If all the data is being collected remotely, why do you need to go at all?” She asked.
Alfred was touched by the question.
“To get to the sun, the Vector must slow down. It’s not a straight shot. It’s hundreds and hundreds of orbits. Someone needs to man the craft to make it all happen without getting caught up in a planets gravitational pull. And the equipment needs adjustments to work for as long as possible.”
The girl didn’t relent. “But why would you want to go?”
“It’s an honor to go.”
“Won’t your family miss you?”5
“I don’t have a wife or children. My sister and her family will miss me, but they’re in Sweden. We have a long-distance relationship. It’s going to become a really long-distance relationship,” Alfred chuckled at his own joke.
This didn’t satisfy the girl. She chewed her lip, fidgeting in her seat while her classmates looked on.
“But won’t you be lonely?”
Yes, Alfred would be lonely. He’d known all along, but he hadn’t given it much thought in the years leading up to the mission—maybe because it was too sad to think about.
The problem was that since the assembly, it was all Alfred could think about. Here he was, days away from launch, and he was just as worried about how lonely he was going to be as that twelve-year-old girl.
Loneliness consumed him and he hadn’t even left.
He sat in his bare apartment and thought about his loneliness. He tried to remind himself that he would be able to talk to his sister. He would have his own website and social media. He would be connected.
But it wouldn’t be enough. The girl had confirmed it.
A knock on the door stirred Alfred from his lonely thoughts. He left his empty table to answer.
On the other side of the door a woman with an almost familiar face stared back at him with a sheepish grin.
“I’m sorry to bother you Mr. Jacobs,” She said.
“Do I know you?” he asked.
“You met my daughter,” she explained.
Ah. He placed her immediately. She was the grown image of the awkward little girl who was worried about his loneliness.
“How did you—”
“I’m certain this is such an intrusion to your personal life, but Nina has been beside herself since the assembly. She’s been crying for days and, well, we had to do something,” the woman interrupted.
Alfred raised an eyebrow. Nina’s mom shrugged, then stepped aside, revealing that Nina had been hiding behind her.
Nina looked up at him, glowing with excitement. Nestled in her arms was a tiny ball of golden fur. She blinked back tears as she offered the furball to him.
Stunned, Alfred collected the puppy.
“Now you don’t have to be lonely,” She said, smiling.
Alfred stared at the puppy, then at Nina, at a complete loss of what to say. He was confused and touched. Before he could put his thoughts into words the puppy squirmed up and licked the side of his face.
“Thank you,” he said.
The End
Want to watch instead of read? Check it out on IGTV:
Want something with a bit more meat on the bones? I write short stories for reedsy. You can check out my entries:
Hungry for more?
I’ve been published in a winter anthology. Check out my short story Shipwrecked Santa in Angry Eagle’swinter anthology, Apocalyptic Winter- Book 2. You can get your copy on Amazon today
If you’ve got an idea for a flash fiction story send it to me at author@jillndavies.com
Tune in next week for more Flash Fiction.
If you’ve got an idea for a flash fiction story send it to me at author@jillndavies.com.
Tune in next week for more flash fiction.
Get your copy of Due North Today!
Amazon
Kobo Books
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/due-north-4
Nook Books
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w?ean=2940162951827
Try a Free Sample of Due North Today:
Get your FREE Sample of Due North TODAY!
All you have to do is sign up for my mailing list!
Get my copy FREE
I’ll never spam you. You can unsubscribe at any time.