The Space Between Stars

the blue dot

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I turned the key in the ignition. My baby grumbled, spat, and finally woke with a shudder as she conquered her inevitable end once more.

"'Atta girl!" I patted the dash, and buckled my seatbelt with a satisfying click. Working the clutch, the gas, and the gears, I eased her into reverse.

"Off we go." I sang softly to myself. Backing off of the short gravel driveway, I shifted my old gal into first and headed for the research center.

My old car's complaining had disturbed Stanley's laxidasical afternoon snooze, and the shock-white Shepard dog bounded after the old Subaru. He made it halfway down Daisy Lane, before pacing gruffly a time or two at his usual guard spot.

I watched this from the review mirror, just in case one day his bad leg would give out once again. Satisfied that my trusty partner would terrorize the local cats another day, I slid my aviator glasses into place and turned off onto the main road.

That was a theme with me. Pilots were pretty cool, despite being little more than a fantasy now. Aviator sunglasses, an aviator jacket, and well worn, brown leather combat boots. I thought it looked pretty sweet, but Richard would never admit something like that. I think he was just jealous. His barter and scavenging skills weren't as refined.

I turned left onto Whisper Wood Dr., signalling, despite the lack of fellow drivers today.

Along the gravel road to the station, tall oaks, maples, and black walnut trees shaded the road from the post-noon sun. I fiddled with my radio, tuning into channel after channel of static. Not a lot of trans-settlement communication these days.

It was a shame. Less than a decade ago, "humanity" went hand-in-hand with "kindness", "community", and even "civilization". These ideals dictated laws, science, and even love. But now, Earth felt bigger and emptier than ever.

Finally, a voice in the static. It was "I'll Still Be Loving You" on good 'ole Kiss Country, 99.9.

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Arched, jet-black eyebrows added a dramatic lilt to Richard's face. It was a nice face to look at, I had to admit to myself. "Hey dick."

I dropped my duffle (a briefcase would have been cooler, but far more impractical) at his feet. Richard, or Dick, as he hated to be called, shot me a glare. "That had better be a capitalized D."

I ignored him for the moment, moving toward my own table. Shifting through a few astronomical charts, I was able to locate the place I had left off last night. "Don't flatter yourself."

Richard scoffed, he was never too quick on the comebacks, and I heard a muffled whoomp.

"I hope you didn't just kick my bag." I could practically feel his smug look. "Don't blame me if your damned jelly doughnut burst."

The hurried screech of a chair on the linoleum floor was extremely satisfying. Ziiip, I heard my coworker gingerly set the box of pastries on his table and open them.

"There's no jelly you little..."

"I pray you won't finish that sentence, Mr. S." He didn't. The professor made his way languidly over to Richard's overflowing desk. The man surrended the box without question. The older man surveyed the assortment with a look of approval. "Thank you, Mr. Romero."

I nodded, "Sure thing, sir."

Our stationmaster plucked a chocolate-covered, sprinkle emblazoned doughnut from the dozen before retreating to his office. He wouldn't emerge from there again until hours after the sun had set.

I wandered over to Richard's lab-table-converted-desk immediately after. Normally, the Prof frowned upon eating in the library, but he didn't mention anything this time. I grabbed the one and only chocolate cake doughnut. That was the benefit of buying doughnuts for the office, the extra power that came with the flavor of choice.

I sat on a stool opposite from Richard. When he shot a disapproving glance, I waggled an eyebrow. "If you finish C3 from the Cygni belt, there might be a jelly one next time." It was my last section of the cluster to map. If he agreed, I'd be to watch for incoming transmissions.

He hesitated. Swallowing his pride, his adam's apple bobbed uncomfortably. "Fine." Richard groaned in defeat.

What a man would do for doughnuts...

I flashed a triumphant grin. "Thanks, Dick. You're not too bad after all!" Richard didn't grace my use of his unfortunate nickname with a response, he merely resumed his work.

I crammed the last half of my chocolate doughnut in my mouth, and paced around the table. Grabbing my duffle, I headed for the set of double doors opposite the entrance.

"Ey-er." I mumbled through chocolatey deliciousness, and pushed through the steel-tone doors labelled OBSERVATORY. I thought I heard Richard bid me farewell, but it sounded suspiciously like he had said "disgusting". Tough love.

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📻 Why would anyone want to come to earth? 📻

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Translation:

"Ey-er" = doughnut-speak for "later"