Chapter Two #4
Vivian nodded. “Exactly. That’s my point.
All of this money that they’re spending—hundreds of millions of dollars.
And for what? To send a few men to space?
Just think of all the good that money could do elsewhere.
How many people could be helped. I think we should be doing a better job of asking ourselves if the risk is worth the reward or if we’re allowing the Soviets to tie us up in this whole business simply because our egos can’t stand the possibility of the United States coming in second. ”
Joe gaped at her. “You—you don’t think we should go to space? That we should, what, abdicate the Space Race?”
He looked so flabbergasted by her comment that he resembled one of those cartoon characters with how comically overdrawn his expression was.
And then she remembered a salient point she had conveniently forgotten.
The Mercury Seven all had one thing in common:
They were former fighter pilots.
“I’m not saying that exactly,” she hedged, feeling a bit churlish for diminishing his profession, especially considering the lack of interest she’d shown him all evening.
“I’m just saying perhaps we should think about it more, consider whether it’s really the best use of our resources when there are so many other issues in this country that could be addressed with those funds.
Quite frankly, it seems like we have enough problems on this planet before we turn our gaze to space. ”
Joe’s expression shifted slightly, from gobsmacked to earnest.
“Are there needs that must be addressed? Of course. But that doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t dedicate ourselves to space.
Just think of the scientific benefit, all we can learn from space.
We could use that information for medical advancements, to offer solutions to problems here on Earth.
There’s so much about the universe that we don’t know, so many questions that could be answered.
Not to mention, it’s a matter of national security.
Did you hear Khrushchev’s speech last year?
Do you really want to hand space over to the Soviets?
To just lose the Space Race? You’re right, there is a bit of ego involved.
But it’s more than that. If the Soviets can put a satellite in space, how long will it be before they’re putting missiles up in space, nuclear weapons?
Do we really want Soviet nukes soaring over the United States? ”
“Of course not. But the issue is more complex than that. It’s easy to garner support when you’re positioning it in such a dramatic manner that invokes fear.
No one is going to say that they want a Soviet nuke pointing at them from space.
And that’s how they get the funding for the entire project, isn’t it?
That image compels Congress to open their checkbooks.
But maybe no one country should control space.
If there is truly such great scientific benefit to exploring space, then perhaps it should be shared for the benefit of all.
“And if the goal was getting a man to space, as you said, the Soviets have already won,” Vivian added. “Yuri Gagarin accomplished that. We’re still on the ground.”
Joe’s expression flared at that statement, and it became very clear that like so many, he was upset the Soviets had sent a man to space last week.
“That’s just one goal, though,” Joe countered.
“There are other things to look toward, other ambitions to have. The science of this stuff is completely unknown. We’re learning as we go.
Gathering information from our mistakes.
We’ll get there. And eventually we’ll go beyond what the Soviets have accomplished.
One day in the not-too-distant future, we’ll put a man on the Moon.
What message would that send to the Soviets if we got there first? ”
“I don’t profess to know much about space exploration, but the Moon seems like a lofty goal. A giant leap considering we can’t even produce a capsule capable of carrying an astronaut to space.”
“You’re a skeptic.”
He said “skeptic” like it was a very bad thing indeed, and she couldn’t help but laugh at the fact that he looked flummoxed by the turn their conversation had taken.
“I suppose I am.”
If she’d had an idealistic bone in her body, it had been excised a long time ago.
He shook his head. “It is a giant leap. But that’s the whole point, isn’t it? If you’re going to take a risk, why not take a big one?”
“Spoken like a man who flies fighter jets and races motorcycles for fun. Life feels like enough of a risk as it is. For many, far, far too many, just surviving is a lofty enough goal these days.”
“Exactly. You’re absolutely right. It’s difficult to wake up to the daily news and not feel like the world is falling apart.
Maybe this is something we can do that unifies us, something that gives people a common goal to root for, a cause that unites us as Americans.
I—” He broke off for a moment. “To be up there, to see Earth from space—to learn more about the universe than we’ve ever understood—is an incredible possibility.
Is there life out there? Someone else who is trying to communicate with us?
It’s an opportunity to find our place in the world, maybe to understand more about how we fit into this giant tapestry of life, to understand the relationship between space and time, if time travel is truly possible, to understand why—” Joe flushed.
“Sorry, I—I get a bit passionate when I’m talking about space.
” He laughed, the sound altogether too charming and self-deprecating. “It’s easy to get carried away.”
Vivian’s heart thudded as she felt a bit lost in the conversation, but at the same time she felt a bit found. Then, she realized that the entire time he’d been speaking, she’d been moving closer to him, so close that they nearly touched.
She took a step back.
And then another.
“You’re a romantic,” she accused.
He laughed again, and really, no one should have a laugh like that.
“You say ‘romantic’ like it’s a bad thing.”
“No, it’s not. It’s just surprising.”
What else had she gotten wrong in her assessment of him? And why did it matter?
“Why? What’s more romantic than space, than flight?
I’ve never felt more at peace, more in awe of the world around me, of life, than when I’m in the air.
There’s a poetry about it, a simplicity and beauty to how very small you feel when confronted with the vastness of the universe and your place inside it.
It humbles you, I suppose. Or makes you feel like anything is possible.
Maybe that’s the humbling part. I can never decide. ”
Oh God, he was charming. And altogether too earnest. She could see how he’d commanded so much attention at the bar, why everyone had been so entertained, and why when he walked away, it had seemed like someone took the air out of their little group.
It was definitely time to go home and watch Perry Mason before this—was it attraction?—feeling toward him grew, drink be damned.
“I think I’m going to—”
Before she could finish the sentence, the bartender finally slid their drinks in front of them.
“Sorry for the wait,” the bartender apologized. “It’s a busy night.”
“Busy” was an understatement; in the time she and Joe had been talking, the crowd had increased dramatically.
Maybe she could stay until she finished her martini. After all, it would be rude otherwise. At the very least, she should help him carry the drinks back to the table.
They wove their way through the crowd, Vivian moving slowly to keep from spilling the three cocktails she juggled. Joe had tried to take one of them from her, but considering his injury, she’d offered to take the rest.
When they reached the table, Polly and Frank were nowhere to be found.
Vivian sat down opposite Joe, and then her gaze drifted to the makeshift dance floor near the bathrooms. Her roommate was dancing with Frank, her cheek on his jacket, her eyes closed, and the sight of them together filled Vivian with happiness for Polly and a quick but fierce sense of longing for something she’d never had.
In her previous relationships—sparse that they had been—Vivian had never looked or felt as at ease with another person as Polly did now.
Dating had always seemed like an awkward dance where two people were trying to lead at the same time, stepping on each other’s toes and struggling to make small talk.
Even though they’d just met, there was something about the way Polly and Frank moved together that appeared so easy and natural.
“Frank’s a good guy,” Joe told her, his gaze not on the couple, but rather on Vivian. “We’ve known each other about ten years now—since we went through pilot training.” He smiled. “It looks like they’ve hit it off.”
“It does.”
Vivian struggled to think of something to say, grasping for a topic to fill the silence building between them.
Anything to distract herself from the way he was looking at her, an intent gleam in his gaze.
Had his attentions shifted so quickly from Polly to her since her roommate was now otherwise occupied?
Did he shuffle through women with such ease that they were replaceable diversions to him?
She couldn’t decide what to make of him.
Joe took a sip of his drink, studying her over the rim of his glass. “Why television?”
“Pardon me?”
“I shared with you why I love to fly. I’m just curious—what was it that drew you to a job in the television industry?”
She opened her mouth to tell him that she thought it was interesting, that television was a new medium for reaching audiences, that there was so much opportunity, an open frontier. It was the standard answer she gave when asked about her career.
She began to tell him all that, and then, she just…didn’t.
He looked so interested in her answer, and he’d described flying as poetry, and so the truth slipped out instead.