Cover Story

Cover Story

ESCAPE FROM
PLANET EARTH

Story and illustrations by Ken Avidor

Jeff Anderson woke up at 4 on Monday morning with the feeling that something big had happened while he slept. Jeff’s wife, Linda, was still asleep so he was able to rule out fire and tornadoes. They lived in Minneapolis so he could cross earthquakes and hurricanes off the list. Jeff reached for his glasses and bathrobe, carefully rolled out of bed and tip-toed to the kitchen.
He turned on the television in the kitchen. The news was on but it was a repeat of last night’s ten o’clock edition. Jeff listened for a few minutes to the usual reports of war, scandal and the ups and downs of the stock market before switching it off. By now, Jeff was wide awake and still convinced that the premonition he had was real.
The lanky, red-haired inventor had learned to trust his premonitions. It was a similar flash of early morning intuition that gave him the idea for the Space-Based Digital Laser Communication System that made him and his partner, Bob Brookes, a fortune. Jeff and Bob were roommates in college. Jeff studied engineering and Bob was a business major. They were both “Star Trek” and “Doctor Who” fans. They could recite hours of dialogue from their favorite shows. Jeff was convinced that the salvation of the universe depended on the invention of all the technical wonders of his favorite sci-fi television shows. While he never discovered a power source for Hyperdrive or the formula for time-travel, he stumbled on several innovations that NASA was very interested in buying. Bob Brookes suggested they both drop out of college and start a company.
Ten years later, Jeff was disillusioned with the partnership. The rapid increase in funding for NASA, The International Space Station, and defense-related space projects kept the Anderson Brookes Corporation very busy, but Jeff was losing interest in space travel since the birth of his son two years ago. Now he wanted to improve the quality of life on Earth. In his shop he devoted more time to inventing lighter, more efficient human-powered tools and vehicles such as a sleek, carbon-fiber recumbent bicycle for himself and a utilitarian tricycle that could be manufactured cheaply in poor countries from bamboo fiber.
Bob Brookes on the other hand was very happy with the direction the company was going. He found he enjoyed his close proximity to powerful people; playing golf with senators, eating lunch with generals and flying in Lear jets. Bob and Jeff were on opposite ends of the political spectrum and they argued about nearly everything.
Jeff had an idea that the premonition had something to do with the company. He decided to get dressed and bike downtown to the office.
Jeff pushed his bike down to his corner office, the derailleur clicking loudly in the empty hallway. After he leaned the bike against the wall, he noticed a small electronic device on his desk, a little bigger than a laptop computer. It was one of two prototypes for the new Space-Mail Communicator the company was developing for NASA It was already connected to the rooftop satellite dish cable so Jeff just needed to push the power switch and the Communicator’s flat-screen monitor lit up. There was one message for Jeff. It was from Bob.
BobBrookes@SV38-16 to JeffAnderson@Earth1
Hello Jeff, just in case you haven’t heard the news yet, I’m orbiting around the Earth in a space shuttle. I would have let you know about “Operation Noah’s Ark” earlier but the bigwigs in the Inner Circle swore me to secrecy. Now that OpArk has launched successfully, I’m free to tell you what happened.
Do you remember when we signed the contract in Washington for the Proton Micro-Jet Propulsion System for NASA? Two days after you left, I was invited to a top-secret meeting at the White House. Some of the most powerful people in the country were there; the top CEO’s, military brass and intelligence chiefs. We learned that the International Space Station and the Strategic Defense Initiative was a cover for a massive black-budget program officially called Operation Noah’s Ark, but referred to by the Inner Circle as OpArk.
We were given a briefing by the CIA Director about CIA research that predicted the imminent collapse of the Earth’s ecosystem due to overpopulation, Global Warming, food and water scarcity, pollution and the proliferation of weapons of mass destruction. The CIA report held out no hope for life on the planet and recommended that the best and brightest Americans prepare to abandon the planet and perpetuate the human race on a space colony I orbit around the Earth.
The Director of the Inner Circle told me about the accounting tricks that they used to hide the existence of the program from the American people. Even the War on Terrorism was used as a cover to divert billions of dollars to OpArk.
The Selection Committee of OpArk told me I was chosen because my profile fit the criteria for a space colonist. They told me I had superior intellect, physical stamina and emotional stability. Later on I learned that my generous political campaign contributions were the deciding factor.
I was concerned that the selection criteria would include a lot of older women who would be unable to bear enough children to perpetuate the species. The Director assured me that every man in the Inner Circle would have a mate no older than twenty-one years of age. A modeling agency in New York was being used as a cover to enlist healthy, beautiful, young women for OpArk. I looked around the room and saw a lot the guys smiling and nudging each other.
For years I worked in secret for the OpArk project, waiting for the signal that would give us twenty-four hours to report to our designated launch sites. Saturday night, I received the signal. I had just enough time to drop this Space-Mail Communicator off before I was driven to the airport to board a jet to the secret launch site in North Dakota.
The crowd outside the gates of the launch facility was huge. Apparently news of the migration had leaked out. I showed my credentials and I was waved through. An elite corps of soldiers who were told they would follow us into space protected the facility. The Inner Circle had no intentions of taking along a bunch of lowly privates and non-commissioned officers. The Inner Circle even went through the effort of building dummy shuttles to dupe the poor bastards.
Our launch vehicle was an SV38. It looked like an enormous space shuttle without wings and no heat-resistant tiles for re-entry. It held about forty passengers and a two-man crew. We suited up and waited for lift-off. We blasted off just after midnight.
We’ve been in Earth orbit for a few hours and I’m just beginning to adapt to zero gravity. Tomorrow we’ll rendezvous with the space colony, Exterra 2 and begin a new chapter in the history of mankind.
I’m sorry I had to leave you behind. I hope you can forgive me for not telling you about OpArk. I know how you feel about your family and I doubt you would have left them if I had gotten you accepted by the Inner Circle. You do understand that there was no choice at all for me. I’m sure all hell is breaking loose down there without the nation’s leaders to keep things under control.
Good luck to you and Linda,
Bob

Jeff Anderson@Earth1 to Bob Brookes@SV38-16
Bob, I hope things are going okay for you up there in space. I’m happy to report that the anarchy you predicted hasn’t occurred. While you and the Inner Circle were working on your secret OpArk project, another secret organization, the Committees of Sustainable Governance were monitoring your activities and planning to take over the government when the Inner Circle blasted off into space. It was a completely nonviolent coup. The CSG control the airwaves and they have been on radio and television, day and night with reports on the crimes of the Inner Circle. The entire nation has been listening to the broadcasts, transfixed by the reading of documents describing the diversion of trillions of dollars to the OpArk project.
I have contacted the Minneapolis Committee of Sustainable Governance and offered my support and the resources of the company to set the region and the nation on a new course.
I have to let you know that there is a lot of resentment in the company for what you’ve done. It’s not just that you abandoned us, but there are allegations that you looted the company’s pension plan. I’ve handed over the company records to an auditor from the CSG.
Good luck with the rendezvous.
-Jeff
Bob Brookes-SV38-16 to Jeff Anderson@Earth1
Jeff, after I joined the Inner Circle, I decided that I would “invest” the entire pension plan in a dummy retirement fund we set up for OpArk. A pension plan is only good if there’s a future and let’s face it, there’s no future for people on Earth.
We’ve begun our final approach to Exterra 2. We’ve got a pretty good view of the space colony on the navigator’s monitor. Exterra 2 looks like an enormous wagon wheel, nearly two miles in diameter. The hub is the docking facility; the spokes are tubes connecting the docking facility to the outer rim. The rim is a giant pressurized tube made from a lightweight, magnesium and titanium alloy. The surface is covered with the solar cells we developed. The area where we’ll be living is covered with acres of high-tensile carbon glass. Using the telescope, we are able to see the houses, parks, roads, farms and vehicles, all tied down until the loading of supplies and colonists is completed. The wheel slowly rotates to simulate gravity. With all the stress that vibration and centrifugal forces puts on Exterra 2, it would quickly rip itself to pieces if it weren’t for the tens of thousands of Anderson-Brookes Proton Micro-thrusters studding the surface of the giant wheel. You’d be pleased to see your computer-controlled micro-thrusters keeping the giant facility as steady as the Rock of Gibraltar.
There are at least two dozen shuttles lined up to dock with Exterra 2 and off in the distance we can faintly see Exterra 1, the experimental space colony turned into a construction and support facility for Exterra 2. Exterra 1 has that ancient, Twentieth Century design, no gravity or spacious living space, not to mention the 4-star luxury creature comforts this elite bunch are used to back on Earth.
Jeff, I wish you were here. Exterra 2 is a masterpiece of engineering and a good chunk of that engineering is yours. Too bad you won’t get a chance to see it with your own eyes.
-Bob

JeffAnderson@Earth1 to BobBrookes@SV38-16
Bob, I’m glad the rendezvous went smoothly. I can’t say I’m proud that my inventions made it possible for you and the Inner Circle to live in luxury high above the Earth while we have to clean up the mess you and your friends left behind. The Committees of Sustainable Governance has set a date for a national referendum. The referendum is a radical break with the past. Once the referendum is adopted, the rule of corporations will finally come to an end; ecology and social justice will be the guiding principles of government.
An investigating unit from the CSG has asked my assistance clearing up a mystery for them. Apparently, in the rush to get aboard the shuttles to Exterra 2, the technical support staff for the space station was left behind. According to them, 39 technicians are required to operate the space colony. There should be 10 on Exterra 2, four on Exterra 1 and the rest on various shuttles. The manifest for your shuttle lists five technicians among the passengers. Can you verify whether other technicians replaced them?
-Jeff

BobBrookes@SV38-16 to JeffAnderson@Earth1
Jeff, the past couple of days, I’ve had a chance to meet and talk with my fellow passengers. Not one of them is a technician. I can also report that they are not the “Best and the Brightest.” Most of these passengers are military or intelligence chiefs. I suspect these thugs muscled and elbowed their way aboard. In addition to the guys with the buzz-cuts, there’s Ralph Murphy, the CEO of Trans Global Newsgroup, his bodyguard, a blond, six-foot tall New York supermodel named Chantella and myself.
You remember what a loudmouth, sonofabitch Murphy was on Earth. I regret to say he’s just as big a loudmouth sonofabitch in space. He complains about everything from the toilet to the zero gravity. He doesn’t complain about the food because he brought his own, which is completely against the rules. When some of us asked him to share some of his caviar and pheasant, his bodyguard, an enormous ex-football player named Ike glared at us and patted a pistol shaped bulge in his spacesuit.
I’m sure the missing technicians won’t be a problem. I’m sure they built some redundancy into the plans in case some of the shuttles failed to lift off.
As you can imagine, I’m getting pretty anxious to dock with the space colony. We’re last in line for docking. The Jumbo SF41 Shuttle with the girls from the modeling agency docked an hour ago and all these middle aged guys can talk about is what they’re going to do to perpetuate the human race. It’s like listening to thirteen-year-old boys.
-Bob

JeffAnderson@Earth1 to BobBrookes@SV38-16
Bob, what’s going on up there? We’re getting reports from amateur astronomers that the space colony is disintegrating.
-Jeff

Bob Brookes@SV38-13 to Jeff Anderson@Earth-1
I saw the whole disaster; the space colony began to vibrate slightly at 0235 space-time. We heard reports from the technical staff onboard that passengers who had recently docked were running around the outer rim unsupervised. They apparently didn’t know that everything tied down on the outer rim needed to stay secure until all the docking had been completed. Some of these middle-aged idiots were racing around in vehicles to impress the girls. The micro-jet computer was overloaded with data from the gyro-sensors. The skeleton crew of technicians had their hands full keeping the computer from crashing; there was nobody to chase after the idiots in their golf-carts. The vibration turned into a full-fledged wobble at O250. The micro-jet computer failed at 0257 and the technicians switched to manual and blasted the emergency thrusters. The inertial forces were too powerful. The structure immediately began to tear itself apart and fling its contents in all directions. A pink mist trailed from the wreckage—all that remained of people vaporized by the rapid decompression of space. Seconds into the disaster the space colony resembled an expanding spiral nebula of space junk. Small pieces rattled off the sides of our shuttle and we held our breath as bigger pieces passed dangerously close to us. I watched in amazement as a vintage Rolls Royce hurtled toward us, turning end over end. The captain blasted the shuttle’s thrusters and the classic car missed us by a millimeter.
I started shouting that I couldn’t believe some idiot had enough pull with OpArk to stow a Rolls Royce aboard a supply rocket. “That was my Rolls Royce,” Murphy replied from the back of the shuttle. I walked back to punch his fat face in, but Ike pointed his pistol at me and I backed off.
We have just enough fuel to rendezvous and dock with Exterra 1. There are four technicians there with a space shuttle that’s capable of returning to Earth. Wish us luck.
-Bob

Jeff Anderson@Earth1 to BobBrookes@SV38-16
Bob, I’m sorry to hear what happened. I’m also sorry to let you know that the four technicians on Exterra I left the space station yesterday and crashed their shuttle in the Everglades. There were no survivors. That means there are no launch vehicles we can use to rescue you. The Space program has taken a back seat to other programs like National Health Care and Sustainable Transport. I think you can forget about a rescue mission at least until we get the nations priorities in order.
Your best chance of survival is to remain on Exterra 1 and make the best of a very long stay. If you successfully dock with Exterra 1, you’ll find a complete instruction manual on the main computer. I’ve attached additional information about how to extend the capacity of Exterra’s facilities such as using the slime mold in the grow-lab for food. You and your shipmates should be able to survive for quite a long time on slime mold. Of course, you will need nutrients to feed the slime mold…I suggest recycling sewage from the privy. It’s dirty, smelly work, but you’ll get used to it after a while. The key to survival in space is to waste absolutely nothing.
Hang in there as long as you can. I’ve sent an e-mail to the director of the Russian space program. They might be able to rescue you.
-Jeff

BobBrookes@Exterra1 to JeffAnderson@Earth1
Jeff, we just made it to Exterra 1. We barely had enough fuel to make the journey and complete the docking procedure. We had to turn off all essential systems including the climate control and the main computer. By the time the hatch opened, we were turning blue from oxygen deprivation and the freezing cold.
After we crawled aboard the space colony, Murphy announced that he was taking command of Exterra1. Chantella was the colony’s First Lady and Ike was his Chief of Police. They took possession of the most spacious and comfortable part of the colony. Murphy said he doesn’t want to go back to Earth and he and Chantella are going to perpetuate the human race themselves like Adam and Eve. The rest of us use the older part of the colony. There is no artificial gravity and it’s as cramped as a submarine.
Two more of the surviving shuttles have docked with us. Murphy wanted to refuse permission to dock, but the commanders of the shuttles threatened to ram us if he didn’t let them aboard. Now, there are 120 of us onboard and we’re packed in like sardines.

JeffAnderson@Earth1 to BobBrookes@Exterra1
Bob, the Referendum passed by an overwhelming majority of Americans. Government has been radically transformed. The reign of corporations is over and democracy has been restored. There is a lot of celebration going on.
I just got word from the director of the space program in Russia. He says they don’t have any plans to send up a rescue ship. The Russians are planning to respond to events here in America by reducing their spending on weapons and unfortunately for you, their space program.
Hang in there and I’ll try the Japanese, the Chinese and the European space programs.
-Jeff

BobBrookes@Exterra1 to JeffAnderson@Earth1
Jeff, Murphy ordered the killing of 20 men last week. Ike and his gang of thugs stabbed them with homemade knives. I was spared because I’m in charge of making the slime mold biscuits everyone survives on. The toilet keeps malfunctioning and the place reeks. Everyone has diarrhea and malnutrition. Sometimes a guy goes crazy and tries to open the hatch and we have to kill him.
I can’t sleep at night. I lie awake at night clutching my knife…this is what prison must be like.

JeffAnderson@Earth1 to BobBrookes@Exterra1
Bob, we’ve signed the Climate Change Treaty and we expect to reduce our emissions of Carbon Dioxide by sixty per cent…of course the Europeans, Japanese and Chinese will be monitoring our emissions from space and they can’t spare any rockets to supply or rescue you.
I’m very sorry, Bob.
-Jeff

BobBrookes@Exterra1 to JeffAnderson@Earth1
Jeff, there was a coup last night. Ike deposed Murphy as the leader and sent Murphy to carry “honey-buckets” for me in the grow-lab.
Ike was tired of taking orders from Murphy. He wanted to play Adam and Eve with Chantella. Ike was in for a big surprise when he discovered that Chantella was just another Adam with hormones and implants. We all had a laugh at Ike’s expense, not too big a laugh, of course. Ike’s still got that pistol.
Thanks for trying to save us, Jeff. I’m not sure we’re worth saving. We’ve all committed unspeakable crimes up here; rape, murder, cannibalism. If we were rescued and returned to Earth, I’m sure we’d all wind up on Death Row.
It’s almost like we’ve made our own Death Row right here in space. By passing the death sentence on Earth we put the noose around our own necks and nobody on Earth will mourn us when we die.
The batteries are almost used up on this machine. This will probably be the last message. Good Luck.
-Bob

The End. pulse