TLI burn halfway through breakfast. Most demoralising. Mutinous mutterings about how Helicorp’s PR job seems to have vaporised into thin air now we’ve been safely stowed on board.
A last look back at Earth. By now, it’s looking pretty small, and the real scale of what we’re about to attempt is really starting to come to us. Jay has been uncharacteristically silent for most of the day, moodily shooting various shots of the Arrow’s interior from all sorts of contortionistic angles. Helen, meanwhile, is furiously planning out our voyage. The amount of paper she’s getting through is quite worrying, especially as we (or rather, the people who forked out for us to do this) are having to pay around $50 per kilogram of luggage.
It soon becomes obvious that transporting helium is a highly profitable business to be in. I have been given the honour of having a guided tour of the CEO’s private apartment, conducted by the man himself, Oz Simpson. Simpson is quite a surprise when I first meet him, having the appearance of youthful social networking tycoon more than a seasoned businessman, who has negotiated the shark-infested waters of international space treaties and governmental red tape. Slung underneath the Arrow behind the drop-ship bay, the centre of Simpson’s empire is a huge cabin, complete with glass floor, drinks cabinet and four-poster bed. And a Steinway, stuffed in a corner.
“I just love to customise my fleet,” he says, making a gross understatement. Last year alone, Simpson’s company spent over $11 million in developing a re-entry-proof paint and decal system, presumably to ensure the powerful advertising effects of the massive fleet when it lands on Earth. I ask him if share-holders have ever complained about his blatant enjoyment if the high life at the company’s expense.
“Not to my knowledge,” he replies, with a dismissive flick of the hand. “As long as I provide them with champagne and private jets they don’t seem to mind all that much.” We leave with a distinct sense the age of the oil-fuelled oligarchy doesn’t seem to have died out with large crude oil supplies. Or maybe I should say heligarchy…
Decide on an early night to catch up with my journal. Get woken up rudely, only a few minutes after falling asleep, with a resounding crash coming through the wall behind my head. Find out later that it was Jay jumping into bed after forgetting all about zero-g conditions. Must remember to torture him with the memory of it sometime.
YOU ARE READING
Around the Solar System in 80 Days
Science Fiction"Inspired by the great travel literature of centuries past, intrepid TV presenter N. Arraytor and his long-suffering camera crew set off on a spaceship-crashing, budget-busting adventure to visit every planet in the solar system in 80 days... "It's...
