“I will tell Sam to prepare for a slight sting.”
The astronauts are not given protocols on how to examine Sam’s gynecological equipment. The thought occurs to Helen, as she watches Sergei and Yoshi cut away Sam’s pants and then modestly drape Sam’s pudenda in preparation to treat an abdominal wound, that the noninclusion of Sam’s reproductive organs is, when it comes to her, accurate. There had been other options for the common fibroid tumors discovered a decade ago in her body, but why hang on to a uterus or cervix she didn’t need? One less place to get cancer, and with drugs she could fly through menopause without it interfering in her work. Anyway, for her and Sam, there is almost nothing left inside that particular area to see, or go wrong.
“It has been the day of the dead,” Yoshi says that evening, when they have gathered in the living space of Sergei’s room to study. During breaks they teach one another the ten-minute routines their physical fitness coach has devised for each of them. Sergei is surprisingly graceful, given his compact physique. He tells them that his younger son studies ballet and ballroom dance, and has won competitions. Yoshi demonstrates his ability to perform unsupported handstands. Helen can do the splits, but she does not perform them in her routine. Doing the splits in front of men has no upside unless you want to invite envy or desire.
“We will have talent night during mission,” Sergei says. “Helen, you play harmonica, yes? You will bring?”
“I will,” Helen says. “A buddy of mine at JPL made me one that only weighs about twenty grams.”
“It is good sound for space travelers,” says Sergei. “You can play cowboy songs. We will ask Prime to pack some beans for us, and make simulation campfire video. With simulated sleeping cows in distance. They can give us virtual cowboy hats.”
Helen enjoys it when Sergei makes gentle fun of Prime Space, although she does not instigate doing it herself. Throughout her career she has judged it safest to be the one laughing at the joke, rather than the one making it.
During Eidolon, each astronaut will have a thirty-minute segment in their daily schedule allotted to watching uplinks of Earth news collected for them by their Prime handlers, and they’ve been instructed to indicate programs, sites, and areas of interest. Sergei, Helen, and Yoshi talk through their selections so as not to double up on the same tech and science resources. All three of them want to follow the Chinese lunar landing of Weilai 3. On Sergei’s screen they watch footage released from Xinhua of the taikonauts giving an interview. Images depicting the Chinese flag on the moon are already flying over Beijing, Shanghai, Guangzhou.
“How are US flags doing on moon?” Sergei asks Helen.
“The last time anyone looked four of them were still up. But the UV radiation has almost certainly bleached them completely white.” On the screen now, the last surviving Apollo-era astronaut is speaking. The astronaut is being interviewed, but he is ignoring both the questions and the physical presence of his interlocutor and speaking directly to the camera. The astronaut is a man who has been to the moon, and he will squander no civility on his inferiors, i.e., everyone who has not been to the moon, i.e., everyone.
“I had a dream that I walked on Mars last night,” Helen says. “I carried an umbrella. I remember someone telling me that you should always ask people to interpret your dreams. You won’t learn anything about your dream, but you’ll learn a lot about the other person.”
“Was the umbrella open or shut?” Sergei asks.
“Open.”
“Then I have no idea what that means,” Sergei says. “I only remember that closed is bad.”
“I think it is a good omen.” Yoshi hands Helen a cup of tea. “An umbrella is a symbol of togetherness. There. What have you learned about us?”
“Sergei is a pessimist and you’re an optimist,” Helen says.
“I have learned that Yoshi is better at taking psychological tests,” Sergei says. “We should give him ours. At least you did not have dream of clowns on Mars.”
It has become one of their jokes: that Sergei is deathly afraid of clowns.
Later, alone in her room, Helen gives herself thirty minutes to attend to personal business. She will need to purchase gifts for friends and family members, presents for the birthdays and Christmases and anniversaries she will miss during Eidolon, and distribute them in advance of their occasions. Prime will assign her an Earth liaison who will be able to take care of this, but Helen has learned from the past that this can seem cold to certain members of her family. She consults the file she keeps of previous gifts given to friends and family members, along with one that details personal preferences, favorite colors, hobbies, and updated clothing sizes. Helen normally enjoys this process, but just now she is feeling restless. She tries to compose a short email to her daughter, and knows that her attempt is flat, but her half hour is up.