SUNGLASSES AND ROCKETS Part 1 : New Moon

HUMAN

It was in vain; I was too alert. So, I finished getting up, and I went towards the ladder and started to go up it.

At that point I just went through the motions. Brainlessly. The feeling of horror had turned into resignation, that left me in an autistic state, in a manner of speaking; a total absence of mind. I indifferently contemplated, several feet away from me, the nose cone of one of the most amazing rockets developed during the Cold War, the modified Atlas-Centaur G, known also as the Bat.

Fortunately, I hadn't lost my ability to reason: I knew that one false move would lead me straight to my death.

Felix went before me in the climb up: he went up with all the equipment on his back. He had unfurled a roll of wire, tying an end of it to his waist. To my surprise, I noticed that the wire reached down to the base of the rocket. In the abysmal bottom, I managed to make out the diminutive figure of the doctor trying to catch hold of it.

The only weight I had to carry was that of my own body, which seemed fair to me. Although I would have preferred for someone to carry me...

Somehow, when I reached the roof, I got into position so I could lock my feet onto the slots in the hatch, just as Felix had explained to me. I supported myself on some kind of tubing and managed to observe that there was a huge gap that ran alongside a narrow rectangle. It was clear that the hatch had only slid open an inch or so before the electrical current gave out.

I positioned myself underneath the opening and got ready to exit.

Once again, a hand grabbed my shirt collar. Pre-warned, I prepared myself for the violent pull I was about to suffer. The hand tugged me, tearing the material. I looked up. Felix's hand came back again. It smashed against my forehead; it gripped me firmly by the hair and started to pull again.

A moment later I found myself outside of the silo, lying in the middle of a pool of mud.

"Are you okay?" Felix asked, shaking a handful of hairs from his hand.

They belonged to me.

"I think so," I guessed.

My response was sincere. Although I had lost a bit of hair and my body was bruised, the sudden feeling of open space with the hot, salty fresh air blowing through the tropical vegetation made me feel good. With my spirits half rising I got to my feet.

Naturally, Felix had already gotten back to work. He methodically took tools out of the black box. I took advantage of the chance to have a look around.

I was amazed. In the distance you could make out a serene, turquoise-colored body of water joined to a navy-blue sky by way of the geometric line of the horizon. It was the Caribbean Sea. The sun had surely already gone down; it was 6:15 p.m. The last flickers of afternoon light emerged from the west, refusing to leave. They tinted the sky with whimsical gold-colored hues that merged with the dark blue of the east, where several bright stars were already starting to glimmer.

The view from the summit of that cliff was simply dazzling; romantic. Marvelous, I thought, made ecstatic by the sight. If only Vanessa...

"Bring the twigs and roll out the cables," I suddenly heard.

The unexpressive voice of Felix brought me back to the mission. In scarcely 45 minutes we would set off a small rocket-launch: the thin twigs tied together with adhesive tape would serve as a support structure and the rocket was, in reality, three flares, each 30 inches long, joined with plastic cement.

Tied to its base, the small rocket had a fifteen-caliber wire that was securely spliced to connect it to a cable hooked up directly to the combustible tanks belonging to the rocket, more than 300 feet away, and to another cable that connected it to the gigantic magnetic solenoids of the silo's hatch, about 60 feet away. According to the plan, when the rocket reached a height of 990 feet and made contact with the first clouds, it would produce an electric discharge in the wire, generating enough of a current—some ten amps—to start up the rocket's motors and, at the same time, completely open the hatch to the silo.

At exactly 7:19 p.m., Felix checked his watch; he had already taken care of the last few details. He had not become distracted, even for a second.

Thirty-six minutes to go until the window of time for take-off began.

Finally Felix got up and shook the mud off his hands.

"Ready," he said.

Next, he aligned himself with the groove in the hatch. I followed him, excited; proud to have taken part in building that ingenious space device, I turned around and shone some light on it so I could take a last look. It wasn't long before I was worrying about something else.

"Felix!" I called, suddenly alarmed. "How do we launch the rocket? Do we use the remote control?"

We hadn't found any kind of sensor. Just an ordinary switch at the base of the shuttle.

"We'll do it the old way," he explained, shining light on two fine wires that stuck out of the rocket. "Once we get to the control center, we'll make contact."

Without saying anything further, he made a sign that meant I should get into the slot.

"I think it would be better to use the remote control," I stubbornly insisted.

It was no time for blind obedience. There was still the possibility that Felix had missed that helpful possibility.

"Impossible," he responded dryly. "The silo's concrete sheathing blocks radio signals from getting through."

"Of course," I admitted. "Radio signals..."

Burning with shame, I got quickly into the slot. I firmly grasped hold of the rope and went down.

Safely on the narrow bridge that joined the tower to the Bat, I marveled at Felix's rhythmic, steady descent. His movements were forever sure. His unquestionable training, along with his steely temperament, made him the most appropriate character to accompany the insane Moses Masterton on his mission to the dark side of the Moon, in an abandoned rocket that may or may not be working. He controls his surroundings, I thought as I watched Felix elegantly lock his boots onto the rope, his surroundings do not control him.

Suddenly, the rope snapped. It tumbled down, Felix and all. In one instinctive movement, I got out of the way so he wouldn't fall on top of me.

"Arrggg," he cried as he crashed spectacularly to the floor of the bridge.

I was perplexed. Felix was human.