Space Box

Space Box

EarthSourceMedia Reports for May 7th, 2010

Space Box

By Joey Racano

Search the cosmos, near and far

Neath the axis, star by star

Seek for eternity and when you’re through

You’ll find the flower grows next to you

                                                  -jr

 

Deep space travel was cold, boring and lonely, but on Beta Phi, it is our sworn duty to answer the call. In fact, on all planets outside Milky Way, such answers to the call are deeply hard-wired. Our scientists and researchers say this is because we never developed a cerebral cortex atop the medulla oblongata, as is the case on inner planets, which lay inside the galactic womb. There, the stardust is thick and warm, forming a cosmic maternity ward, if you will and the civilizations that arise can exhibit wildly reckless behavior.

Our brains had stayed largely reptilian, which cost us a bit in emotion, but also spared us the follies of inner-planet civilizations like the one now threatening the peace.

We stood waiting at the Phi portal in our redwear, ready for a long journey of the utmost importance. We had no idea it was going to be this big, and weren’t briefed until we were underway. My girl Sandrafive had made the long trip from our moon to Phi portal just for a chance to see me off and burst into tears as soon as our eyes met, though she tried to be brave. Our palms met on the glass, and we mouthed the words, “Go with luck”, to each other. It was the first time I had ever worn or been seen in redwear, the special travel suits reserved only for galactic emergencies and the deep-space travel they require. I was proud.

Suddenly, the floors vibrated, signaling to all it was time to board the starspear.

Fifteen days travel for Sandrafive, for 15 seconds of togetherness, and that, through a glass, darkly. I watched her out of the terminal, and boarded the starspear. My position was forward right, and I made my way through the fuselage. Like a giant squid, my chair signaled me with red flashing light. The closer I got, the faster the flashes became. When I sat down, the chair straps wrapped themselves jealously around me. The flashing stopped, and my seat released a pleasant aroma of Lilac, my favorite. I placed my palms flat on the armrests, and the chair administered a prescribed dose of mood enhancers that would see me to slumber for fourteen years. Considering the round trip, we would be traveling near lightspeed for almost thirty years. Sandrafive would age normally, and I not at all. It was for this reason I had chosen a girl so much my junior- in case this day might come. I surrendered to the onrushing wooziness, and entered a dreamstate netherworld, where time, space and intuition meld for a decade, squeezed down into a few seconds.

My eyes popped open sometime later as my chair began to release her protective grip. I curled my upper lip, pressing it against a silicone assembly which opened my observation membrane. And there she was- space. Black as pitch and cold as death, space somehow maintained a beautiful countenance.  Far off in the inky blackness, pinpoints of light emanated from the other starspears on the mission with us, each juxtaposed to perfectly encapsulate our precious cargo- the giant structure that would bring death to one world and salvation to many others. Made of nickel-iron and painted white against the stars, the gargantuan device resembled a bowling ball bag, replete with giant round magnets at its circumference. It was by changing and then reversing the polarity on these electromagnets our squadron of starspears was able to herd the huge beast along, using them like interstellar electric cattle prods.

The closer we got to space zero, the thicker the debris field became, and the disease of the target planet was apparent. Discarded space craft, satellites, radioactive bundles of space-garbage, and fossil fuel-generated space bubbles all formed an ominous mine field of danger to anyone on the open space highway. The Commodore gave orders for microspears to depart the mother spear. Our mission was to zap deep-space exploratory probes and vessels, and anything else that had its origin on the planet in question. No prisoners, no samples, no dialogue and no attempts at contact of any kind. This was a class O planet, the most dangerous type, and full containment was imperative. ‘O’ stood for ‘oil’, a type of propellant formed from dinosaurs, and used by all developing planets. But it is abused by a small minority of under-civilizations, whose political systems, for whatever reason, fail to allow for the periodic recalibration needed for the good of their own, as well as the galaxy. Judging from the size, toxicity and decay of the debris field this one was a doozy.

We banked away from the solar system ahead, homing in on tell-tale beacons from the planets most remote spacecraft. We dispatched them one at a time using radio waves to cook the occupants from the inside out.

Our job done, we circled back to observe the starspears as they worked their electromagnets in tandem, swinging the giant containment structure to bear.

As the planets hapless occupants bought and sold their own life support systems –a jungle for a soy farm, a redwood forest for a pool deck, ad infinitum- for the very last day, our job as Beta Phi, or ‘BP’, for short, was almost finished. We brought the giant encapsulation structure into place, half from the north, half from the south, and it slammed shut with the force of a solar oil blowout, non-sound reverberating to the edges of the galaxy.

Smoke, oil and soot continued to escape from the titanium seams, mute testimony to the reckless holes drilled through the now dying planets mantle. But we had obtained the 85% containment target, and so it was done.

We re-entered the starspears, where rapidly flashing chairs greeted us like wombs, wrapping their motherly arms around us, and we floated into a dream as we traveled, sea otters wrapped in kelp at a frothy cosmic shore. Threat contained, and slumber embraced, we were going home.

Joey Racano  May 7th 2110

Dedicated to the Gulf Gusher oil catastrophe of 2010

 joey racano

our founder

Tags: bp, oil, oil spill, gulf gusher, louisiana, shrimping, shrimpers, shrimp boats, barrier islands, petroleum, fossil fuel, oil companies, solar power, british petroleum, dutch shell, oxydental, chevron, exxon, exxon mobil, chevron texaco, electric car, zev, oil platform, deep water horizon,

One Response to “Space Box”

  1. BothEyesShut says:

    Dear J.R.,

    Favorite thing you’ve written so far, maybe. Real classic, completely well-envisioned and revised, exquisitely concise. Stories like this aren’t really done, anymore. You’re an expert of the short piece.

    Wish I could write with brevity. Even my blog posts have five chapters.

    Thanks for this, it’s an entirely good time.

    Cheers!

    Yours Truly,

    -BothEyes (S.)

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