Stargaze

Prologue

     "Before you ask: No, I'm not related to Barry Manilow." Says the scientist.

     A few seconds of silence fall into place as the girl sips her soda. Her mouth leaves the straw with a small sigh and the liquid inside falls back down into the glass. "Who's Barry Manilow?" She asks.

     The scientist looks surprised— stunned, almost— "You've never heard of Barry Manilow?"

     "Sorry to rain on your parade, Dr. Manilow, but I haven't." The girl looks around the bustling diner as silence makes its rounds again.

     "Just call me Cassidy," Cassidy says.

     Another long sip of soda. "Goose. But you know that already." Goose sticks out her hand as far as she can manage, which isn't much, and Cassidy shakes it. "I suppose you are still wondering why exactly we're here."

      "Well, yes. You said you're going to die." Cassidy reminds her. "And you're going to tell me why?"

     Goose then picks up the half-empty glass and swirls the straw around. "Yes, well, I'll just be rattling off the wordy lecture my doctors gave to me here, but I hope you don't mind."

     "Not at all, go ahead," Cassidy insists. "After all, I am a doctor myself."

     "Of space. A space doctor." She says with a certain smart-alecky tone. A small smile forms on her face.

     "How did you know that?"

     "Oh, come on, really? The internet is an amazing place, Cassidy. You have some pretty cool scientific achievements if I do say so myself."

     Cassidy picks up her white mug of coffee and blows on it. "Well, Goose, as a doctor, I've had my slew of long, unpronounceable words. I'm sure I can handle it."

     Goose looks unsure, but Cassidy is left guessing whether that's true. Her face seems expressionless, almost. "I was born with a super rare disease called Fibrodysplasia Ossificans Progressiva, commonly known as Stoneman disease," Says Goose. "It's a disease of the soft tissues where injury and normal wear-and-tear causes them to ossify. That means that they turn to bone when healing. But you know that already."

     Cassidy didn't know that, but she knew about the disease. She watched a BBC documentary about it when she was in college. Their waiter comes by and hands them their food: two plates of lasagna with chunky sauce. Cassidy thanks him and then turns to Goose, who prods her plate of lasagna with a fork and then continues.

     "It usually starts before you turn 10, and begins at the top of the body and progresses downward, slowly paralyzing you until you're frozen in one position. I was three when it started, and for some reason, it started in my head, slowly moved down my neck and upper arms, stopped, and then moved to my feet and legs and is currently going upwards.
     "Normally people who have it die in their 40s and the lucky few survive some years later than that, because without major injury and proper management the disease progresses pretty slowly. But that's not the case with me.
     "My doctors are shocked, because in the last couple of years it's begun to spread super fast. In the normal progression timeline I should be in my mid-twenties right now, but I'm only 14. And the weird path it's taking makes it worse. My chest can't expand much anymore because my torso is almost solid bone, so I have to have an oxygen tank to give me the air I need to survive. That's what's going to kill me. Not the disease itself, but the side effects. And they don't know nearly enough about this thing to figure out something that would help me. And at this rate, I have a prognosis of about... A month. Two if I'm lucky."

     Cassidy sits with her coffee mug to her lips, not sure what to think. She stares down at the lasagna in front of her that's still letting off steam, trying to process what all she just heard. She couldn't imagine what it feels like to know that you're going to die before you even grow up. Her eyes silently trace the thin tube hanging over Goose's ears and looped under her nose. They move to her eyes, an exquisite shade of brown, like the sweetest maple syrup. Although her face doesn't express much emotion, Cassidy could tell that her eyes make up for that.

     She sits the mug gingerly back down on the table with furrowed brows. "And you think I could help you? Like you said, I'm a space doctor. I don't know the first thing about treating rare diseases."

     "No, no. I'm not asking you to find a miracle cure," Goose blinks a few times. "I'm asking you to help me with something much more important to me than fixing the unfixable."

     "And what would that be, exactly?"

     "I have something I've always wanted to see happen. Something that I've only ever seen in movies and read about in books. Something that could change the entire perspective of the world. Or at least a small part of it." Goose bends the top of her straw over and creases it, creating small cracks along the sides. "I want to see the night sky in it's true glory. For one night, I want to see every light off, and every person marveling at a sight we've been deprived of for so long. I want to see the beauty of the universe that my body will return to someday soon. And I can't do it myself, so I need someone crazy enough to help me."

     Cassidy's heart skips a beat. Is she serious? This could be life changing for so many people! So few have ever been able to behold the full beauty of a starry night, even herself. Even as an astronomer, the only way she could really see a sight so wonderful without breaking any laws would be in the middle of the ocean or up in space. And on the day she met Goose, her space-traveling future was sucked quickly down the drain.

    "So," Goose says, "Are you up for it?"

    Cassidy feels an excited smile grow on her face. "Hell yeah, Goose. Hell yeah." Her smile shrinks a bit. "But my question is: how are we legally going to do it?"

     "Legality shouldn't matter when it comes to a child's dying wish." Goose pushes her glass of soda to the side of the table, scrunching up a stray napkin. "And I've been thinking about it ever since that day in the grocery store. I think I know something that just might work."