Chapter 9

 

“So what's the deal with space elevators?” I held the ladder John was perched on. He cleared another box off the top shelf, handing it down to me to load onto a waiting pallet.

He looked down at me, a bemused smile playing on his face. “Could you be a little more specific?” He handed me another box.

“It's come up in at least four different books that I've read now, people casually referring to it as this commonplace thing, like, 'Hey, let's pop up to the moon. No big deal, we’ll take the space elevator.'”

John laughed and I went on, “You break down the words, and it isn't a mystifying concept. They refer to it like it's this fundamental tool. It seems like it's important.”

“And?”

“But it doesn't exist. Does it?” I had that momentary self-doubt that I was being obtuse but John looked amused. “It makes sense. I mean, 'elevator', I get that. But how would it work? What would you attach it to at the top? And would it need to go a certain speed?” The questions kept coming. It was more than simple conversation. This had been bothering me. John grinned and shook his head, reaching for the last two boxes and climbing back down the ladder.

The day after Halloween and our job was reversed. We were almost done pulling all the decorations, candy and costumes from the floor. As quickly as we could get one shelf emptied, another team would lay claim to the vacant space with all manner of harvest-themed goods. They waited now, impatiently tapping feet while John loaded the last boxes on the already heaping pallet. I unlocked the trolley, and between the two of us, we moved it back toward the stock area.

He didn't speak until we safely transported our load. Now tasked with unstacking the boxes, we were again free to talk during the monotonous crossings back and forth between the pallet and the back wall.

“It's still theoretical, but you're right, it would be an important tool to further space exploration. Right now, every time a space shuttle takes off it has to outrun gravity, pretty much use brute force to push its way through the atmosphere and into Earth's orbit.”

His words evoked the memory of every image I'd ever seen of a space shuttle launch, rockets hurtling upward in a fury of smoke and flame.

“The problem compounds itself,” John continued. “When the ship leaves it has to have all the fuel it will need for the entire trip in reserve. But the fuel is heavy. So, shuttles need even more fuel to propel themselves up at the start.”

“So the way it is right now is pretty inefficient.”

He nodded. “A space elevator would open new ways of thinking about space travel.”

“It could transport people and supplies into orbit?”

He considered. “Theoretically, yes.”

“What do you mean new ways of thing about about spacecraft?”

His physical body remained in the stock area but he was barely present. “With this tool, we could start building spacecraft in orbit. They would be ships designed for space travel that wouldn't have to cope with the heavy pull of gravity down here. They wouldn't have to be able to survive the journey in and out of Earth's atmosphere. We could move beyond ships only able to travel in low orbit and start exploring farther out into the solar system, maybe even different star systems.”

He grew more distant, his mind lost to thoughts of a different part of the galaxy.

“In a single lifetime, they could reach extra-solar planets, new homes we could colonize. With the right sort of ship, we could travel toward the center of the galaxy. Generations of explorers could travel thousands of light years to reach their destination.”

John stood still, his thoughts transcending anything this ineffectual little reality could offer. It couldn't have been more than a minute, but it felt like he stood there forever, an empty shell. I walked closer, hoping movement might wake him. Eyes unblinking, he was locked in an unseeing stare. I risked touching his elbow, and it was enough to startle him back to himself. He looked over at me and gave an embarrassed smile.

“Where were you?” I asked as gently as I could.

He paused a bit before answering, “I was thinking about how to make it work.”

“How far did you get?”

“Not far. There are too many problems and the technology isn't there yet,” was his honest reply.

“Problems to solve next week?” I asked but then regretted the sarcasm. “Sorry. Is it worth the time and energy to explain what you mean?”

“Probably not.” My instinct was to feel insulted but I noticed him checking his watch.

“Well then,” I said, handing him the last box from the pallet. “Let's get out of here.”

We walked in silence toward the time clock. John finished pulling his timecard through when I heard my name.

“Layla, would you mind stopping in here for a few moments once you've clocked out?” Brian stood at the door of his office. “I need to talk with you. Privately.” He directed an obvious look at John.

“Um, sure.” I turned to John, “See you Monday?”

John was watching Brian, forehead creased, trying to figure out if this was trouble or not. “Yeah. Um, yeah,” he stammered in response. I hurried to swipe my time card and felt him lean down to whisper, “Do you want me to wait?” John's eyes darted back to where Brian stood.

I forced my face to look nonchalant and shook my head no. “I'll see you Monday.”

In the office, Brian seated himself behind his desk, attention focused on the pen in his hand. He furiously clicked the cheap mechanism in and out until I seated myself across from him.

“Layla, I wanted to thank you for the excellent way you handled yourself yesterday.”

The atmosphere was so serious, I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. After an awkward beat, I realized this was it. I started to think that maybe I should respond.

“Thank you.” I hated that it came out sounding like a question.

Brian didn't speak, but this didn't seem like it was over. Finally, he said, “That was a potentially difficult situation and you managed it very well. The customer asked me to pass on how much she appreciated you stepping in. It, uh,” he paused, “it made my work a lot easier.”

I watched him, waiting. There was something more.

“You did a great job responding to a problem, but of course, I'm always curious how we can avoid problems in the first place. I understand what she described, but it would help to have you tell me what happened.”

I straightened in my chair. “She was in the seasonal department, pretty upset. She was looking for a specific item and hadn't found it there earlier. When she looked for it in housewares, she was told she would find it back in our department.”

“And then John told her she'd find it back in the housewares department?”

I nodded, “Which was correct, but not very helpful.”

Brian nodded. “So, you knew to offer help in getting the item to the customer. What I'm confused by is how you knew to direct John where to find it in the stock area. You told him to pick it up when he came by my office.”

I didn't know what he was trying to tease out, but it was putting me on edge.

“I saw the dishes back here when I was getting some other stock after break.” I managed to force my voice back down to a normal octave.

“You just happened to see them?” He watched for my response.

“Um, no.” I replied, “I—” From the look on his face, I knew he wasn't in the mood for vague answers. I curled into the chair, allowing my spine to rest against the back. “I saw Kyle bringing them back. I thought it was weird, he’s not really into heavy lifting. He was putting them in a weird place too. It made me curious, so after he left, I went over to look.”

Brian relaxed his spine too. “So you were suspicious. Why didn't you say anything?”

“He's the lead in his department. I figured he had a reason.”

“And afterward? Why not then?”

“You were busy, and I was so relieved it was over. I didn't want to cause trouble.”

Brian looked upward, processing the conversation.

I stared at my hands, folded in my lap. “He did it on purpose, didn't he? Sent her to the wrong place and then hid what she was looking for. Why? So she'd get upset with one of us?”

Brian shook his head no, that he wouldn't or couldn't answer that.

My gaze dropped back to my folded hands. “So what happens now?”

“What would you like to have happen now?”

One of my eyebrows arched upward in question.

He answered, “It was a sincere question and a fair one, I think, given how well you navigated a bad situation. I can't offer a raise or a promotion. What can I offer?” He closed his eyes, half-smiling. “Well, what can I offer that's legal and within my capacity to grant as a department store manager.”

I considered for a minute. “I'd like to never work the same shift with Creepy Kyle again.” I watched his reaction, curious how he would respond.

“All right,” he said, his smile looking more permanent. “That, I can work with.”

Dismissed, I rose to go. At the door, Brian added, “In all seriousness, Layla, you're doing good work. Keep it up.”

An outright compliment from Brian: rarest of treasures. That, and the promise of a Kyle-free work environment. I whispered a thank you and closed the door behind me. I didn't want Brian to see me throw my fist in the air in a silent victory celebration.