In Space, No One Can Hear You Pray.
"... I mean it God... if you get me out of this one, I'll be a good boy from now on" I whispered between my panting.
The gauge on my wrist told me I had ten-more minutes of oxygen left and I was still good way off getting back to
the capsule.
The eye-aching blue planet that was full of air rolled on below me and even though Mission Control still calmly chattered
in my ear-piece, I knew I was alone and I knew that I might not ever set foot again on that place I called home.
'I bet Darla is crying right now' I thought to myself and gulped back the sudden need to sob.
"This is Mission... stay focused Issue One" the tinny-voice strained in my ear and I kept my response in my head.
'Go screw yourself'
"When is 'from now on'?" God said from somewhere behind me and being in this ridiculous stuff called space, I couldn't
turn around. "...What I'm saying son, is when are you going to be that 'good boy'?" he asked again and I'd swear he was
being sarcastic right then.
Of course, I wouldn't swear... it's wrong to use your oath in such a fashion, so I just nibbled my bottom lip and stared
towards-where the face-plate met the side of the helmet.
"Is that you God...?" I asked in my best earnest tone "...Is it really you?"
"Issue One... we're picking up unusual activity in your area, please be aware of possible passing debris" the person I'd began
to call 'Nasal Man' -said. The cold, uncaring universe waited in the lonely queue with me for the next moment.
Nine minutes of air.
"It seems you've stumbled into a bit of a dilemma, you've made a promise and then trampled upon it at the first-chance you had..."
God said with rolling fat-plum tones "...It's a dark-dark day for little Chuck, no?"
The capsule looked awfully close now -I thought and wondered if this craziness was due to the stress of possible death by suffocation.
I set my gaze on the shiny-steel surface of Issue One and hoped my training would stop this madness.
"Well-well, your prayers were formed from nothing more than panic..." God asked with faux concern "...and the rigorous schedule you
took part in to leave the home that I provided is the one talisman you cling to. In some circles that would be seen as noble, would it
not, Chuck?" God chided.
'If I can just move a few feet closer, I can possibly reach the broken solar-wing...' I thought. 'Oh God I'm close.'
"Yes I know" came the low-voiced confirmation.
Eight minutes.
I enrolled in 2003 with NASA and due to my previous experience with the USAF, the company looked to me for a fast-track 'run-through'
of the programme and with a five-year outlook to get me into space. It was something to do with the budget, you see?
My gloved hand brushes the meshed-solar panel and it lumbers by once more.
"I truly apologise for interrupting your self-congratulating musing, Chuck, but can we get back to the 'promise' discussion I was attempting
to massage earlier?" God said and right then, I was sure I felt someone grab my suit from behind.
I would swe... I was sure. "It is important Chuck" the Omnipotent One reminded softly.
Seven.
"This is Mission, can you confirm that the debris field is not a hazard, Issue One?" Nasal-Man asked and clearing my throat and easing my
laboured breathing, I answered. "Mission... I have the capsule in my sight and the debris is not a problem. Over" I reported and watched
the solar wing come around from behind the tin-can that would take me home.
"It's all getting quite scary..." God hissed and pulled at the backpack of the spacesuit "...A lamb may call out for the Shepherd when he's
n a pickle, but if that lamb feels it's bonds loosen, then it's adios Big-Man... see yer' -when 'ah need yer" the words bounced about inside
my helmet as I reached for the life-line.
Nearly there.
Six minutes.
Got it. Grabbed and hanging on. Now if I can get to hatch-door, I can...
"Are we calling it a day on our talk of blind-faith versus casual religion...?" the Host Of Hosts asked lightly. "... Are we foregoing any
revelations in our existence?" he whispered into my $43,000 composite head-bucket.
"I'M SORRY, OKAY...? I'M SORRY I FAILED YOU!" I roared and the high head-splitting feedback from my ear-piece made me twist my
face as I turned the hatch-door release.
Five.
As a huge chunk of metal shot past my head, I felt the vibration through the heavy fabric of my glove and knew that the door was opening.
There was plenty of oxygen on board and I knew the re-entry programme would kick-in within a few minutes of my intrusion. I was saved.
"Issue One... Issue One, are you okay? Over" Mission snapped in my left ear and grunting with exertion, I pulled the hatch closed behind
me and responded. "Mission, I'm aboard Issue One and I am prepping the ship for coming home" I'm sure the relief in my voice was
obvious to all down there.
The lights of the console flickered and then stayed on as I fired up the the ship for re-entry and unsealing my helmet, I felt that I'd somehow
released whatever terrifying force that had been trapped in the helmet with me.
Mission came on-line two minutes later and the guy I had secretly known as 'Nasal-Man' spoke once more.
"We were getting quite worried there -Issue One. The monitors on the capsule were showing the passing debris passing very close to you"
One minute to Thrusters.
I reached over to where the food-packs were stored and fumbled for whatever freeze-dried delight may be stashed at the top of the
silver-gauzed bag. "Yes Sir, that was quite a manoeuvre you pulled off there" Nasal-Man said with a short laugh as I pulled at the
oblong-object.
It was a book. A book by Graham Greene called 'Brighton Rock'
"...If you hadn't somehow hauled yourself back like that, the object that we now believe is part of the cooling-system off the old Sky-Lab
-would have taken your head off!" he said and I read the words on the page of the open book.
'...You cannot conceive, nor can I, of the appalling strangeness of the mercy of God...'
"You be careful when you're out here Son..." God said softly "...and keep your promises from now-on"
I closed the book and with a lowered head, I whispered ''Yes Sir''.
"... I mean it God... if you get me out of this one, I'll be a good boy from now on" I whispered between my panting.
The gauge on my wrist told me I had ten-more minutes of oxygen left and I was still good way off getting back to
the capsule.
The eye-aching blue planet that was full of air rolled on below me and even though Mission Control still calmly chattered
in my ear-piece, I knew I was alone and I knew that I might not ever set foot again on that place I called home.
'I bet Darla is crying right now' I thought to myself and gulped back the sudden need to sob.
"This is Mission... stay focused Issue One" the tinny-voice strained in my ear and I kept my response in my head.
'Go screw yourself'
"When is 'from now on'?" God said from somewhere behind me and being in this ridiculous stuff called space, I couldn't
turn around. "...What I'm saying son, is when are you going to be that 'good boy'?" he asked again and I'd swear he was
being sarcastic right then.
Of course, I wouldn't swear... it's wrong to use your oath in such a fashion, so I just nibbled my bottom lip and stared
towards-where the face-plate met the side of the helmet.
"Is that you God...?" I asked in my best earnest tone "...Is it really you?"
"Issue One... we're picking up unusual activity in your area, please be aware of possible passing debris" the person I'd began
to call 'Nasal Man' -said. The cold, uncaring universe waited in the lonely queue with me for the next moment.
Nine minutes of air.
"It seems you've stumbled into a bit of a dilemma, you've made a promise and then trampled upon it at the first-chance you had..."
God said with rolling fat-plum tones "...It's a dark-dark day for little Chuck, no?"
The capsule looked awfully close now -I thought and wondered if this craziness was due to the stress of possible death by suffocation.
I set my gaze on the shiny-steel surface of Issue One and hoped my training would stop this madness.
"Well-well, your prayers were formed from nothing more than panic..." God asked with faux concern "...and the rigorous schedule you
took part in to leave the home that I provided is the one talisman you cling to. In some circles that would be seen as noble, would it
not, Chuck?" God chided.
'If I can just move a few feet closer, I can possibly reach the broken solar-wing...' I thought. 'Oh God I'm close.'
"Yes I know" came the low-voiced confirmation.
Eight minutes.
I enrolled in 2003 with NASA and due to my previous experience with the USAF, the company looked to me for a fast-track 'run-through'
of the programme and with a five-year outlook to get me into space. It was something to do with the budget, you see?
My gloved hand brushes the meshed-solar panel and it lumbers by once more.
"I truly apologise for interrupting your self-congratulating musing, Chuck, but can we get back to the 'promise' discussion I was attempting
to massage earlier?" God said and right then, I was sure I felt someone grab my suit from behind.
I would swe... I was sure. "It is important Chuck" the Omnipotent One reminded softly.
Seven.
"This is Mission, can you confirm that the debris field is not a hazard, Issue One?" Nasal-Man asked and clearing my throat and easing my
laboured breathing, I answered. "Mission... I have the capsule in my sight and the debris is not a problem. Over" I reported and watched
the solar wing come around from behind the tin-can that would take me home.
"It's all getting quite scary..." God hissed and pulled at the backpack of the spacesuit "...A lamb may call out for the Shepherd when he's
n a pickle, but if that lamb feels it's bonds loosen, then it's adios Big-Man... see yer' -when 'ah need yer" the words bounced about inside
my helmet as I reached for the life-line.
Nearly there.
Six minutes.
Got it. Grabbed and hanging on. Now if I can get to hatch-door, I can...
"Are we calling it a day on our talk of blind-faith versus casual religion...?" the Host Of Hosts asked lightly. "... Are we foregoing any
revelations in our existence?" he whispered into my $43,000 composite head-bucket.
"I'M SORRY, OKAY...? I'M SORRY I FAILED YOU!" I roared and the high head-splitting feedback from my ear-piece made me twist my
face as I turned the hatch-door release.
Five.
As a huge chunk of metal shot past my head, I felt the vibration through the heavy fabric of my glove and knew that the door was opening.
There was plenty of oxygen on board and I knew the re-entry programme would kick-in within a few minutes of my intrusion. I was saved.
"Issue One... Issue One, are you okay? Over" Mission snapped in my left ear and grunting with exertion, I pulled the hatch closed behind
me and responded. "Mission, I'm aboard Issue One and I am prepping the ship for coming home" I'm sure the relief in my voice was
obvious to all down there.
The lights of the console flickered and then stayed on as I fired up the the ship for re-entry and unsealing my helmet, I felt that I'd somehow
released whatever terrifying force that had been trapped in the helmet with me.
Mission came on-line two minutes later and the guy I had secretly known as 'Nasal-Man' spoke once more.
"We were getting quite worried there -Issue One. The monitors on the capsule were showing the passing debris passing very close to you"
One minute to Thrusters.
I reached over to where the food-packs were stored and fumbled for whatever freeze-dried delight may be stashed at the top of the
silver-gauzed bag. "Yes Sir, that was quite a manoeuvre you pulled off there" Nasal-Man said with a short laugh as I pulled at the
oblong-object.
It was a book. A book by Graham Greene called 'Brighton Rock'
"...If you hadn't somehow hauled yourself back like that, the object that we now believe is part of the cooling-system off the old Sky-Lab
-would have taken your head off!" he said and I read the words on the page of the open book.
'...You cannot conceive, nor can I, of the appalling strangeness of the mercy of God...'
"You be careful when you're out here Son..." God said softly "...and keep your promises from now-on"
I closed the book and with a lowered head, I whispered ''Yes Sir''.
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe.