Project Snap Decision

Chapter 4

Slipping out of my office for the day, I spy a crowd of simpering interns fogging up the glass on the NASA director's door. Clearly, Joe is still in there with him.

Since our encounter this morning, my head hasn't stopped spinning with all the possibilities and implications this reality show has. Stevie didn't respond to my text to meet for lunch, so she's probably pissed that I mouthed off to her new pet project. Whatever. I'm not entirely pleased with her putting me in this impossible position, either.

I wind through the endless hallways, lost in my troubling reverie. NASA is made up of several "compounds" which are mostly just massive warehouses with sprawling offices attached. They're like a bunch of car dealerships, except with jet engines in the showrooms instead of the newest Tesla model.

Finally, I'm waving goodbye to Joey at the front desk and make my way outside to my car. The second I start the engine, my phone goes off: it's my mom. I sigh. I'm not very good at lying to her. She's going to be able to tell something's up, and no doubt will pepper me with questions.

"Hey Mom!" I exclaim unconvincingly.

"What's happened Camy? Why do you sound like someone shat in your bowl of Wheaties and made you eat it?" She demands.

Lovely.

"Real nice, mom. No one shat anywhere near me, I've just had a rough day at work. Stevie's put me in a terrible position."

"What'd she do, shut down your old bitty project? What was that satellite for again? Taking pictures of old women in their homes?"

"Jesus Christ, where do you come up with this shit? Do you listen to what I tell you about work while taking your shrooms?" I ask. I'm equally amused and exasperated by her.

"For the hundredth time, Camy, I'm micro-dosing! You act like I'm a shroom addict. The doctor suggested it for my poor nerves." She scolds, as though I've wounded her.

"I know, I know Mom. And to answer your question from before, no it's not an old bitty cam. It's just a satellite to expand internet streaming services in Naples, Florida."

"Same difference," she sniffs. "Anyway, what's going on with work? And what does Stevie have to do with it? I thought she worked in a different department?"

I quickly fill her in on the reality show, Joe, and the possibility of space.

"For fuck's sake Camy, what's the problem? You've been wanting to go to space your entire life; this is everything you've worked for! What's holding you back now?"

"I don't know this man, Mom. He's a random NFL player who happens to have a biology degree and apparently nothing better to do. Do you know how complex space travel is? How many things could go wrong? Of course, I want to go to space. But I don't want to die there. I can't trust this outsider with no technical background to be able to properly assist me if and when something goes wrong out there! This boils down to a life or death decision." I blurt out without stopping for breath.

"Camden. They aren't going to just send you both to space tomorrow! They're going to train you for months, first. Besides, what kind of astronaut training do you have to date? You may be an engineer who's tinkered with satellites, but it's not as though you have been training for this for a decade." Ouch—she may have a point there.

"Okay, sure. Let's say I take a leap of faith on his intelligence, and I go through with this. The other glaring problem here is the reality tv aspect. You know why I can't go through with that." I hear my mother sigh. I pull into my driveway and turn my car off.

"That was a long time ago, sweetie. I know that it was traumatizing, but I don't think this would be like that. I think—."

"Mom, I can't. I can't open up those wounds again. Knowing the entire nation is watching would just compound it all. It's insurmountable. Forget the reality tv aspect, too. I don't know Joe Burreaux, no matter how much the media loves him. I don't know his true motives for accepting a reality tv deal with NASA of all places, and I don't want to get caught up in that surefire shitstorm."

"I don't know what you want me to say if your mind is already made up. This could be an amazing experience and a chance to finally have your dreams within reach. But if you're determined to shut out a fortuitous opportunity, don't let me stop you," she practically huffed.

"There's one other problem. We'd have to get to ten million views per episode by the fourth release for the launch to even happen. Without that viewership, there isn't enough money for the launch. I don't think I could handle the cataclysmic disappointment that would follow."

"Camden, dear. You'll never score a touchdown if you don't risk an interception."

So wise.

I hang up with my mom feeling more unsure than before.

I drag myself inside my house and throw together some dinner. I'm not much of a cook, so I heat up some left overtake-out teriyaki chicken and rice. As I'm tucking into my food and starting my favorite movie, Pride and Prejudice, (2005 version, of course) my phone buzzes. I groan. I am not up to talking about that with my mom again. I grab my phone unfamiliar number pop up. Curious, I open the message.

Hey, it's Joe.