Where Science Ends
by Jack Powers
“It’s not real wood, you know.” Kevin tilts his head. Smiles to take the sting out.
“The closest thing.” Ellis takes a sip of his cocktail, raps a knuckle again on the faux-wood bar, glances at Kevin, then returns his gaze to the stars outside the space station’s floor-to-ceiling window in front of them.
“Closest thing?” Kevin gulps his drink and winces. “Is that how it works?”
Down the long bar, well-dressed pre-travelers sit on alternate bar stools nursing their drinks. The cocktails differ in color only. Once they’ve finished, the travelers just wait for a departure slot.
“I’m calming myself.” Ellis swirls the straw in his glass. The drinks look exotic, but taste like castor oil. “I’m a nervous T-Porter.”
“First port? Me too.” Kevin offers a giant hand that swallows Ellis’s. “Kevin Perkins,” His blue suit stretches at the biceps and shoulders, pulling the sleeves too short at the wrist. “Heading to Jupiter 4 to fix the HVAC.”
“Dr. Ellis Marvel. Mars 11. To fix the noggins.” He squeezes his hand out of Kevin’s vise-grip. “And not my first trip.” His tan, tailored suit and horn-rimmed glasses highlight the patches of grey at his temples.
“A doctor? Huh!” Kevin shakes his head. “And you’re knocking on wood?”
“Neuro-psychiatrist. Just easing my anxiety.”
“But that’s irrational.”
Ellis laughs. “Irrational? How old are you, Kevin?”
“What?” Kevin says, not sure if he’s being insulted. “Twenty-six.”
Ellis nods, takes a sip and stares out the window. “I remember twenty-six.” A stream of white appears in the lower right corner like a toilet flush being sent into the cosmos. “See that?” he asks.
“Yeah. Weird. What is it?”
“It’s nothing,” Ellis says. “A visual effect. Something to make T-Porters feel like they’re blasting off. Irrational but effective.”
“You pulling my leg?”
Ellis shrugs, holds his nose, takes a big sip. “Twenty-six, huh? Married?”
Kevin shakes his head. “Waiting for Miss Perfect.”
“Miss Perfect? Hmm.” Ellis smiles. “At 26, I had a baby in the hopper. Married a year. Beginning to realize all I had to lose. Took my first transport with my mentor, Marcus Alder. He used to go to Mars when spaceflight took months.”
Kevin takes another sip, grimaces, wonders where this trip down memory lane is going.
“Notice the seam split?” Ellis points to the left side of the window. “It’s a vid-loop.”
“What?” Kevin furrows his brow. Takes a sip to stall, to decide what to trust.
“Repeats every twenty minutes. Theatre to ease your mind.”
“Look!” Kevin points at the screen. “I think I just saw it!”
“Anyway, the ladies next to us on that first trip kept babbling about people coming back half-mosquito or without arms. Sci-fi stuff. Probably from some movie. There was just these then,” Ellis taps his bar stool. “Tech’s all in here. Marcus soothed the women. Had a magic voice.” Ellis smiles at the memory. “Took deep breaths with them.”
Kevin laughs. “Crazy old ladies!”
“Not crazy, just... uncertain. Imaginative. That’s a sign of intelligence, actually.” Ellis raises his glass and clinks Kevin’s. “I spend a lot of time in people’s heads, Kevin. It’s not a rational place.”
“But this is science.” Kevin points to the T-Port heads over each bar stool. “Engineering. Cyber-Physics.”
“The showerheads?”
Keven tilts his head back and squints at the jets. “Huh?”
“More theatre.”
“What the...?” Kevin squints, scans the drinkers down the bar, wonders for a second if he’s on one those prank shows. They can hide a camera anywhere.
“When we learned the ladies never arrived,” Ellis says, “we were shocked. That’s when Marcus set all this up.” Ellis circles a finger to take in the room. “Can’t say exactly why it works, but dislocation dropped to almost zero.”
Kevin’s head snaps back. “All what?”
“Vids, showerheads, flush, cocktails—”
“Not the cocktails!” Kevin shouts. “I’m drinking this crap for nothing?!”
“Not for nothing, Kevin.” Ellis takes another swig, shudders and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “It relaxes you, makes you think they’ve thought of everything. Makes you feel lucky.”
“They think we’re idiots?!” Kevin face turns red. “Superstitious idiots?!” His neck veins throb. He scans the room as if looking for something to hit, then settles his gaze on Ellis. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Sorry.” Ellis shakes his head. “Nerves? Age? I don’t know.” He puts a hand gently on Kevin’s forearm, speaks in his soothing psychiatrist’s voice. “There’s a method here, Kevin. This isn’t HVAC. It’s people. Superstition starts where science ends. You need to be calm when you T-Port. Otherwise, things can go awry.”
“Like how awry?”
“Calm atoms reach their destination. Anxious ones, well...”
“Well, what?”
Ellis raises his glass to drink, then returns it to the bar. “Marcus was one of the last losses. Fifteen years ago. The problem with getting old is you’ve seen too much. Doubt creeps in. Can’t be certain of anything anymore.”
Kevin taps his fingers on the bar. Frowns.
Ellis sighs, raises his glass again, says, “To finding Miss Perfect.” He chugs it, knocks on the faux-wood, holds crossed fingers beside each ear. His body sparkles briefly and disappears. Out the window a flush bubbles then fades.
“Jesus,” Kevin says. He looks around, studies the row of nervous faces down the bar. “Hey! Anybody know the doctor who was right here?”
Voices mumble: “Doctor?” “Right where?” “What’d he say?” “Who’s the new guy?” Shoulders shrug. Heads shake. Eyebrows raise then lower. The drinkers return to their cocktails.
“Bonkers!” Kevin shakes his head and knocks twice on the bar.
A young guy in a baseball cap sits next him. “It’s not real wood, you know,” he says.
“Shut the hell up!” Kevin turns red. His neck veins pop enough to chase the young guy to a new stool at the end of the bar. “Shit!” Kevin barks, finishes his drink, holds his crossed fingers in the air and tries to feel lucky before he disappears.
Copyright © 2024 by Jack Powers
