“I get that it’s not him,” Mireille had said, about the ashes. “But I just think it would be nicer if he were outside.”
Helen had disagreed with the idea that the ashes weren’t Eric. They couldn’t be more him. They were nothing but him. Other physical traces of Eric existed in the world for weeks after his death: fragments, indications, hair on the shoulders of his jackets, a toothpaste tube dented to the proportion of his thumb and forefinger. Memories of Eric in the minds of the living, yes, but these were already diluted and would become more so. Things Eric had bought or selected, but these were more Things than Eric. All lesser yields of Eric than Eric himself. He had written books, but his books were highbrow historical mysteries, and Eric always talked about the difference between craft (good) and self-expression (bad). There was Meeps, half of whose genetic code had also been written by her father. But no, the thing most like Eric on Earth had to be his ashes.
“He should be outside,” Meeps had said. “Under the trees. Under the sky.”
When she thought about it, Helen realized she did not associate Eric with nature. A very beautiful cabinet seemed exactly right for him. But death was an event that only the living had to deal with, and Helen would have done anything just then to make Meeps feel better. She had never been the primary parent and now she was the only parent.
“I agree with you,” she said to her daughter. “But your father wanted a mausoleum rather than a grave and we should respect his wishes. But.” She had suggested that they each take a scoop of the ashes and find a place in nature where they could scatter them.
Helen had not yet scattered Eric. She had him still, in a box. And Meeps had never found the right place and had only transferred Eric from one box to a prettier one.
? ? ?
YOSHI RETURNS WITH the flashlight and they take up their positions. Helen does not think that her ruminations about Eric are evidence of another mind-slip. She’s good. She’s good to go.
“Okay, this might be the problem,” she says. “Look.”
“Ah, I see. The casing. Can it be snapped up?”
“I think so. Let’s hope this is the only place where it’s loose.”
Helen, afraid of forgetting about the need to make a recording for Meeps, has left a note for herself on the pillow of her bunk. The thing will be simpler and faster to do if she knows what she is going to say and so she has been planning. Sometimes she can sound mechanical when she is following a script, even if she is the one who has written the script, so she also needs to be aware of that.
It is a tricky business. The casing of the Chute needs to be held in place while it is being taped, requiring four hands in a narrow space. Helen holds the flashlight between her teeth; they switch positions and roles. It is easier within a crew to switch roles than it is within a family.
The solution, when tested, turns out to be good; the Chute is working, for now. They can move on.
They have a great crew. A great crew.
Bursts of euphoria are not uncommon at this level of sleep deprivation.
Before moving on to her next chore, Helen does a few exercises and runs through what she plans to say in the recording for Meeps.
Hi, Meeps. I just wanted you to know that I will be thinking about you a lot today. I remember the day you were born and how your father held you in his arms. We both felt so lucky that you came into our lives, and you gave your dad so much love and joy during his life. He would be so proud of all the things you are doing and the lovely woman you have become. I love you!
She should write it down and look at it before recording. There was something not quite right about it. The ETCS erupts into another round of cacophony most unpleasant. It is getting pretty hot in Primitus.
The noise is actually much worse, much louder.
“Something else,” Helen says to Yoshi. Two more warning alarms are sounding underneath the ETCS. Yoshi takes the solar array issue, and Helen moves to the Galley to work the problem with the freezer. They only have one and they need it for medical supplies. Following the protocols for removing things from the freezer so she can fix it is exacting business. She can’t rush this, no matter how much she wants to. One of the reasons Helen is on this crew is that she has this kind of control.
She cannot think of a time when she had thrown up her hands and said, “enough.” The most stressful, dangerous, and fatiguing moment of her life had been an eight-hour spacewalk to fix a tear in one solar panel on the space station, which she would also categorize as the most exciting, satisfying, and exhilarating moment of her life. People always say day child was born, or wedding day, and certainly those were wonderful too, but they had not required any unique skills on her part.
Eight hours, fifty feet along the solar array, suspended by her feet at the end of the Robotic Arm, and she hadn’t reached a breaking point. She had finished the job.