There’s a girl on the pavement, an old phone to her ear. As I click along the street she turns and watches the camera as it passes. It’s like she’s staring right at me. She looks like a ghost, moving through the series of sequential photographs that tie together to make the Google Earth images. I click back and zoom in. She looks around my age – maybe fifteen or sixteen – with red hair, a long fringe and bangles around one wrist.
I wonder what her name is; who she was talking to on the phone. I wonder if she remembers the day that a Google Earth car drove past and she turned to look, her picture caught in their records for all eternity. I wonder if she knows who I am.
I take a screenshot and leave her picture open on the screen while I tidy up. I stare at her, imagining the conversation we might have.
“Excuse me,” I’d say. “Sorry, I know you’re on the phone, but I was wondering if you knew the way to the cinema.” I’ve always wanted to go to the cinema. It looks fun. Popcorn. Slush Puppies. “I’m Romy. What’s your name?”
She doesn’t answer.
DAYS UNTIL THE ETERNITY ARRIVES:
362
I’m feeling a little happier by the time my emails arrive the next day. It’s no big deal, I decide. Sure, it was a shock at first, but I know that I can live without audio files. It was a nice bonus, but it isn’t vital.
Then I read Molly’s latest email – which is in text format again.
From: NASA Earth Sent: 24/06/2065
To: The Infinity Received: 28/02/2067
Romy,
I’m afraid that the situation with the Deep Space Network has worsened slightly. We will be completely out of communication with The Infinity for the next three days.
There’s nothing to worry about at this stage – it will definitely not impact your mission. This is purely a political matter. International disputes have unfortunately affected the control of the DSN antennas, but this should be resolved shortly.
I will keep you informed as to how things unfold when communications resume.
If all goes well, I will be able to catch up with you soon.
Molly
Molly’s messages usually feel like a soft, steadying touch on my shoulder. This one feels like a punch.
I have no idea what the message means. What is Molly talking about? What is happening?
I try to keep track of Earth politics by reading the latest news reports, but it’s so hard to understand what’s going on between countries on a planet I’ve never been to. There’s a cultural shorthand that I just don’t understand, full of terms like “stock market futures” and “Electoral Colleges” and “FDA regulations”. It’s a foreign language with a whole vocabulary that I have no way of clarifying.
Besides, by the time it reaches me, the news is all out of date anyway.
I send off a quick reply asking for more information, but I know it’s hopeless. It’ll be ages before I get an answer.
I hope that whatever is happening on Earth doesn’t last long. I need Molly.
From: The Eternity Sent: 28/06/2065
To: The Infinity Received: 28/02/2067
Dear Commander Silvers,
I apologize for getting back in touch so quickly. I had assumed that, outside of emergency scenarios, we wouldn’t need to use the communications systems between ships regularly. However, today I received a message from NASA Earth saying that transmissions are stopping for a while.
I wonder whether the news raises the same warning bells for you as it does for me. It seems odd that transmissions would be cut off only a week after my ship has launched. What if something goes wrong with The Eternity while it settles into the voyage?
I haven’t prepared for this in training. I admit that I may have skipped some of the more unlikely emergency procedures (I really don’t think we’re going to come under alien attack any time soon!) but I think I would have remembered anything that mentioned the possibility of cut-off data transmissions.
It’s really ****ed up, if you’ll excuse the language.
Regards,
Commander Shoreditch
PS I can’t believe NASA have a line in their coding that censors swear words! Doesn’t that go against the First Amendment? Can you swear in your transmissions?
From: The Infinity Sent: 28/02/2067
To: The Eternity Predicted date of receipt: 10/06/2067
Hi Commander Shoreditch,
I got the message too. I agree, it’s unsettling. I don’t know what I’m going to do without my messages from Earth. It’s never happened before. Did they give you any more information about why it’s happening?
Oh, why am I even asking? You can’t answer!
Romy Silvers
PS I don’t think I’ve ever tried swearing in a message before, so here goes nothing. Shit. Hah! Looks like it’s only you who’s censored! NASA must have updated the telecommunications software after The Infinity was launched. Sorry.
PPS Do you think my dad had a habit of swearing in his messages? Were NASA so offended that they introduced censorship settings? That would be very funny. If so, I apologize on his behalf.
DAYS UNTIL THE ETERNITY ARRIVES:
361
I can’t seem to do anything today. The news from Earth has thrown me so off balance that my chores seem pointless. I need to change my bedding, finish my schoolwork, check the status of the gene bank, separate my rubbish into different materials for recycling and prune the plants in the sun room, as well as about thirty other things. But I don’t want to.
I don’t want to read anything, or practise my piano chords. I don’t even want to rewatch any films on the hard drive.
I’ve seen nearly everything on the hard drive – except some of the more grown-up stuff, which I accidentally found when I was thirteen. I suppose it’s unethical to send astronauts into space without some source of sexual outlet, but the videos just looked gross to me. Even the kissing, which I usually think looks lovely, was all wet and nasty-looking. In fanfic it’s always much nicer.
I don’t know what to do with myself. I wrap my blanket around my shoulders, wandering through the living quarters and rearranging things at random.
I pick up a model of The Infinity that I made from food packets when I was four. It’s one of the last times I can remember doing something fun with my mother, before everything went so badly wrong. The model is bumpy with spots of glue, the thick green paint peeling away from the plastic surface.
“The ship is a spinning circle, see, Romy?” my mother had said, while I applied homemade glitter and paint. “The spinning makes everything stay on the ground instead of floating in the air. Can you point out the engines?”
I push away the memory, annoyed at my brain for reminding me of her.
I move the model from a shelf in the kitchen to a low table in the lounge area, then decide it’ll get in the way there and move it back.
I change my toothbrush to a new one, then remember I only replaced it last week. It would be a waste of resources to get rid of this one already.
I fluff up my pillows, tug the edges of the bedding straight and pick a dead leaf off the basil plant on my bedside table. I put it in the kitchen bin, ignoring that it’s overflowing already. Taking it to recycling just seems so much work right now.
Finally, I give up any attempt at productivity and sit on the floor of the lounge area. Legs dangling over the edge of the padded grey sofa set low into the floor, I eat three packets of dry cornflakes in a row, until my mouth is too parched to chew any more.