The rocket was shaking, but not as violently as Richard would have expected. It wasn’t really shaking at all – it was closer to vibrating. This was accompanied by a sound that Richard could only describe as a low roar, which was getting louder. Across the room from the main console, a digital meter was rising along with the volume of the roar. It was labeled with values from 0% to “100%,” with different colors for different parts of it – 0-70% was red, 70-85% was yellow, and 85-100% was green. As the vibration and volume increased, the level of this apparent power meter climbed rapidly. Immediately next to it was some sort of speedometer that looked very similar to the other meter. It had no unit of measurement, and it rested firmly at “0.”
The rocket lurched abruptly. Richard peered out the small porthole. The ship hadn’t left the ground – yet. He glanced over at the power meter. It was in the yellow, and moving quickly towards the green. The ship was actually shaking now, and the roar was deafening. Since he couldn’t see the outside of the ship, Richard couldn’t tell what was causing the roar. He figured it was some sort of fire used to propel the ship, like what you see coming out of the bottoms of US rockets, but he wasn’t entirely sure. This was probably some sort of alien craft, and it might use a propulsion technology he had never seen before. Heck (he barely even noticed his use of the word this time), it could even be powered by squirrels running on little wheels, for all he knew.
Suddenly, the rocket leaped into the air, knocking Richard to the ground. He tried to get back up again, but the geeforces held him down. The rocket must be taking off, he thought – the roar was deafening now, and all the shaking had stopped.
With great effort, he managed to pry himself off the floor. He could see the sky moving by outside – or rather, space, and all the stars that filled it. He looked over at the power meter again. It had moved into the green and was hovering close to 100%. He looked out the again. The rocket was slanting a little bit in its course from the moon – he couldn’t tell if that was supposed to happen or not – and it was in such a way that he could see the moon’s surface. Looking down, he could see his cabin. He had shut the front door when he left, but he forgot to put out the fireplace again – there was still a thin column of smoke rising from the chimney. He hoped that the fire wouldn’t cause any problems later, but he chuckled to himself at the thought of befuddled scientists using satellites or telescopes or whatever they used to look at the moon and wondering what the heck was causing the smoke.
He stopped. He was shocked – he had never found humor in the discomfort or confusion of others. Maybe he was being a bit harsh on himself – no one was actually getting hurt in his hypothetical scientist situation – but still… he had never felt that way before. He tried to make himself solemn, but no matter how hard he tried, Richard just couldn’t keep himself from smiling.
Looking out the porthole again, he saw that the moon was moving away now. He peered over the edge of the window, straining to get one last look at his cabin, but it was out of sight. He sighed, and climbed into the swiveling chair near the main console. It was strange – he had only been on the moon for two days, and it certainly wasn’t a pleasant experience, but he realized that he was going to miss it.
The rocket shuddered, and an alarm began to sound. The main screen was flashing “POWER LOW.” Richard whipped around to the power meter – it was in the red and dropping quickly. He frantically looked around at all of the screens and buttons, trying to find some way to stop the power loss. He turned back to the main screen. “How can we be out of power?!” he cried, panicking. The screen flickered. He stared at it, and it changed to an image of the earth with a ring around it, the rocket, and an arrow pointing from the rocket to the ring.
“Huh?” Richard said. The screen seemed to react to his question, and a messages appeared:
“WILL ENTER PLANETARY ORBIT. SELECT SPLASHDOWN LOCATION.”
Richard was still confused. “That doesn’t solve our power problem!”
The console chirped, almost as if it was annoyed.
“POWER NOT NEEDED TO MAINTAIN ORBIT. SELECT SPLASHDOWN LOCATION.”
Before Richard could respond, the roar suddenly stopped, and the alarm faded away. He looked at the power meter. It was at 0%. The speedometer, however, remained where it was – “225.” Since it wasn’t labeled was units of speed, he couldn’t tell if that was 225 miles per hour, 225 kilometers per hour, or 225 inches per hour; he couldn’t even tell if it was slow or fast. He assumed it was fast, since he could still feel the geeforces, although he was somewhat used to them.
The console chirped again. It still said “SELECT SPLASHDOWN LOCATION.”
Richard looked at it. There was an image of the earth spinning, with sections of the oceans outlined – he figured the computer must have determined all of the safe locations to land or rather, splash. He thought about this. He had seen all the footage of US space shuttles falling into the ocean with parachutes trailing behind them, but there was still something that didn’t make sense. So far, the console had responded to his questions, so he decided to voice this concern as well. He cleared his throat.
The console chirped.
Looking at it sideways, Richard said,
“So, uh… if we’re out of power, how can I control where we land?”
He couldn’t figure out why he felt compelled to say “we.”
The console responded with
“SMALL AMOUNT OF POWER RESERVED FOR REACHING SPLASHDOWN LOCATION.”
Richard cleared his throat again. The console chirped again.
“If we’re already out of power, then how would we ever reach someplace in another part of the galaxy? You gave me that option, but wouldn’t we run out of power before getting there?”
The console chirped several times, as if it took offense to all his doubting questions, before displaying
“POWER CONSUMPTION CALCULATED FOR FASTEST ROUTE TO CHOSEN DESTINATION.”
Richard thought about this. That would mean that if he had chosed to go to Mars, it would have taken proportionally longer because of more effective use of power. He sat back in the chair. He was satisfied.
The console, however, was not. It chirped again.
“SELECT SPLASHDOWN LOCATION.”
Richard sighed. Looking at the spinning globe, he touched a location in the Atlantic Ocean near the east coast of the US. A ring began to pulse around it, almost like a radar beacon, and the question appeared: “LOCATION CORRECT? Y/N.” He tapped the “Y” and the console chirped in acknowledgment: “LOCATION SET.”
“When will we splashdown?” Richard asked, but the console didn’t answer. He repeated the question and still received no response. Frustrated, he kicked the base of the machine.
It chirped and displayed:
“DO NOT DAMAGE EQUIPMENT.”
Richard sighed and sank into the chair.
