Marriage Cans Dangling From the Bounty

            The sky shone more and more a deeper and deeper red. It shined, it glistened, it danced across the entirety of North America. It was one in the morning, yet was bright as though the sun were just setting. It was growing brighter. The deeper the red the brighter the shine. The more distorted the shine the closer the star seemed to get.

               It was no star. No, just a rock of ice. A rock the size of Texas moving so fast if you were to stand upright on the side facing the planet the thrust gravity would crush you like a boot against a gnat. Not a cockroach or a tick, those might survive, but our fragile bodies would be crushed instantaneously. Our bones ground to dust and our flesh loosely holding it all together before its entry into the atmosphere burned the sack holding our crushed bodies into our component atoms.

               When the asteroid pressed against the planet it wasn’t known what exactly would happen. Many said great meteorological and geological phenomena would be the real dangers, not necessarily the impact. Tsunami waves almost half a kilometer tall would circle the planet dozens of times sweeping away any and all development and human progress that survived the impact. The amount of ice burned to water into the atmosphere would create centuries of hurricanes while the great force against the tectonic plates would burst volcanoes like shaken up cans of soda, other fault lines would release hundreds of thousands of years of tension creating earthquakes beyond our measurements of magnitude. Or at least beyond what we have yet measured.

               Some scientists speculated that the force would knock the planet out of orbit headed for the sun. Modern orbital physics could only get so accurate, and no modern theory could really tell if the asteroid had enough force to go against orbital force.

               What was guaranteed was that no humans on the planet could realistically survive. Personally, I believed that small, insignificant pockets would survive on newly formed islands and adapt. It seemed, as long as the planet wasn’t sun bound, that plenty of deep sea animals were mostly safe. The problem of overfishing would more or less be solved at that point so it makes sense that evolution would take care of the rest as sea life’s greatest predators would be wiped out. After a few decades of famine and horrors, fish would make their way to the surface or humans would make their way down the abyss to find food. Mind you, if I had to guess, only a few individuals scattered around the Gobi Desert on the opposite side of the impact would be those survivors. Already the region was arguably the most inhospitable place to live. No usable farm land or significant other food sources that didn’t depend on the grass not being drowned by great storms, so it’s debatable how sound my reasoning was.

               I, and about thirteen and a half million people would survive in much less desperate conditions. Great spaceships, large enough to hold three hundred thousand people, would launch into space just in time to avoid the impact. Exactly forty five were built using metals harvested from the asteroid belt and Jovian moons and each would launch at nearly the exact same time in all directions aside from to the sun. The only ones to secure their seats were the world leaders, wealthy industrialists, and the most important scientists. It was as a scientists I secured a seat on one of the ships.

               My contribution to science was the design for the very ships that would carry most of surviving humanity. They were designed to be self sustaining cities, able to survive in the vacuum of space. Each was powered by a supercollider wholly contained on the thrust end of the ship holding over three hundred thousand people. The design made it stand almost a kilometer in height and a quarter that in width. The material of the hull was platinum harvested from the asteroid belts and synthetic carbon polymer that had been rapidly fabricated for their construction. The carbon was gained from whatever material could be mustered. From volcanic debris, to the bones of animals and humans alike, our blood, sweat, and very material was poured into our salvation, a conscious choice of my own design, born of necessity and appreciation for its appropriateness. I was given the Earth and her outer reaches to save our species, the greatest engineering projects in history was under my direct command, but who got to go was not a decision I had any influence in whatsoever.

               Ever forward thinking, our politicians elected themselves and their families first, then those that would support their rise to power in the vacuum, then the educated and able bodied, leaving those with even the most minute condition disqualifying would be survivors from safe passage. The fear was that they would pass those genes on. The vacuum would be hard enough without issues of cancer or scoliosis taking half our resources just to keep alive. A sentiment I may have been more inclined to believe in a lifetime ago. When using the very bones of my parents and brother into my new home was not a disturbing thought but a passing comment, maybe I would be one of the barriers to their entry, when I thought my loved ones would be exempt from the threat of remaining on our doomed planet.

               Carmina was the most important person in my life, whether she knew it or not. I designed our new home, the Bounty, personally for her. She would see what I was willing to give for her, what I was sacrificing all my time for. My work began long before we all knew our doom was coming, and it wasn’t like I could tell her. My Carmina, ever lonely as I could no longer come home and hold her at night, would leave me six months before the news was broken to the world. The first thing I did was try to get in touch, but it was no use, shortly after she left she would fall and break her lower back, paralyzing everything below her navel. She forgave me, but knew she would never be allowed safe passage.

               Even for I, no exception would be given. I begged and begged the captain, but then others would demand similar treatment. Perhaps I spoke to the wrong man. When the Bounty launched, his son was left behind because he needed heart medicine. Why would I deserve an exception more than him?

               She was supposed to be left to die, and I couldn’t let that happen, so I turned to the one other option.

               On the day all forty five void cities would launch, I brought Carmina to a spot ten kilometers west of the Bounty. I pushed her in her wheelchair while she held a large backpack in her lap. She was dressed in layers of winter clothes despite it being spring, more cushioning or protection against the cold of space I thought when I dressed her. To the east, the Bounty stood above all else, pointing to the glowing red sky. The comet was much bigger now than when it was first able to be seen by the naked eye. But we were at the remnants of one of humanities greatest parties. The ship was built just outside of San Antonio, and the city grieved in the faces of those fortunate enough to survive by throwing a great, lawless, and godless million man party. Where we were was a crowd of people in the middle of a major stupor. It was a medium sized concert area set up in a flat field surrounded by a thin tree line with nothing but a dirt road leading there. Some slowly walked, keeping their balance so as not to fall, but most just lied there, groaning loudly in puddles of their own bodily fluids.

               We weaved through the piles of post orgy bodies sticking out like soar thumbs. I was dressed in my finest suit, the same one I used to present the ships to world leaders when we learned of the asteroid, while Carmina was dressed in layers of fur and winter clothes. Her wheelchair was hard to move around the people and her chair didn’t move easily through the dirt, but we made it through the crowd.

               Hidden in the tree line was the last resort for those not able to make it on the void cities, was one of the three thousand single person cans. A can was, for lack of a better term, a scam set up by some of the engineers on the design teams. They were insulated canisters just big enough to fit one person and the clothes on their back. Padding gel was glued onto the sides but to think one could survive the seven g’s of thrust gravity that they generated to break orbit was optimistic at best. They were made of three inches of alternating sheet metal and ceramic to protect from vacuum, and possessed no air filter or real heating system, meaning the air that you went in with was all you had. Assuming everything went as planned and nothing pierced the shell that meant a fully grown adult had maybe twelve hours before the oxygen ran out. The cans were tethered to the main ships with anywhere from one to three kilometers of steel wire hidden underground connected just above the thrusters of the ships. The idea was that when the ships took off, the cans would drag behind them, and at some point the engineers would reel them in. In exchange for whatever they thought they could get out of desparate individuals, they would give person the keys to the can and typically assume they would die on take off.

               This one was how I discovered the scam in the first place. One of my engineers was working on the tether to the ship, and when I caught him he offered me the can and a thorough explanation. I’d worked on this one myself. The padding on the inside was further bolstered and a small air recycler was installed on one of the corners to expand the timeline to twenty hours. The survivability was still small but any chance was worth taking in my opinion.

               I stepped ahead of her to the spot the engineer said to go. I removed the branches in the way and popped open the door. I gestured her over.

               “Quickly, quickly! I have to make it back to the ship soon.”

               “This is it?” She asked with a sad smile. “It’s a trash can.”

               “Yeah, it’s a… can? It’s safe enough.”

               “No. Hank, stop.” She rolled over to me, behind her, the bodies of the partygoers began pairing off and stumbling off together. “This isn’t worth it. Just leave me behind.”

               “Why would I do that? This place will be flattened in thirty six hours. This is the only way you survive.”

               “It is not safe. It’s okay!” She grabbed my hand, pressing my knuckles to her cheek. Her skin was cool, and a tear rolled onto my dry skin. “When I left, I was deeply hurt. I though you would dedicate yourself to that stupid dream of yours and forget about me.”

               “To be fair, that very dedication is the reason that this isn’t the end, but I see where you’re coming from.”

               “They truly are amazing. And I understand why you couldn’t tell me. The past two years, watching you work and having you take care of me, spending our time together. Even though we knew the end was coming we were together, and that’s all I wanted. There’s no need to try and drag this out. I’m satisfied. Just let me go.”

               “I can’t, I don’t want to. These ships, my work, they mean nothing to me without you on board.”

               “So you’d trade the whole of humanity just for me? It seems a bit dramatic don’t you think?”

               “It most certainly is, but I don’t feel anything wrong with it.”

               She gave a shouting laugh with her chest then shook her head. “You’re quite the romantic aren’t you.” She turned her wheelchair around and watched the crowd for a moment. They were almost all leaving now, either in pairs or groups of three walking away under the growing red star. The one’s that stayed were either passed out or just couldn’t wait for a moment of privacy I suppose. “I’ll go.” She said solemnly. “But I need you to know, that this will almost certainly be our last time seeing each other.”

               I got down on one knee to match her height, clasping her hands in mine. “I couldn’t go on living if I didn’t try.” I kissed her hands while looking into her eyes, then her lips deep and passionately while she cupped my face.

               “Goodbye Hank. I love you with everything I am.”

               “And I love you. If I don’t see you again, please find me in the next life.”

               We hugged for a long time before I lifted her into the can. Because of the padding and her winter layers I had to stuff her inside. “I love you.” I said, one last time teary eyed.

               “I love you too.”

               We kissed again, and I closed the door. Turning around I started wailing in anguish, but only for a short while. Eventually a sense of hope or denial took over and I convinced myself that she would survive. That in the vacuum I could tell the captain about the cans and reel them in. There were twenty tied to the Bounty and I couldn’t see why twenty extra passengers was something we couldn’t accommodate for.

               It was about an hour trip to the ship where I made it through the automated security and to my quarters. I shared it with another man, an engineer of some kind who I believed would be kicked out when Carmina was brought abord. We talked for three hours before takeoff. About our families, our fear, he was intently interested about my contribution to the void cities and surprised I would need to share a bunk. I also was, but never much cared because I was busy being distracted by Carmina not being able to come along. I didn’t mention the cans but did talk extensively about my wife. About how I nearly abandoned her in my desperation. In my obsession with saving humanity. Somebody else could’ve finished the Bounty without me, but I insisted on being a part of it. I could’ve spent my last days on Earth, knowing that we would die, but we could’ve been together.

               But she would be okay. I fought hard to not say she was coming along to the engineer. It felt soon but I wanted it to be true so bad.

               Takeoff started with an announcement to be in our cushioned beds, then finished with a countdown from ten. At one, between seven and eight g’s of force was pressed against me. It felt like my lungs were being pressed down by an angry doctor, I was aware of all my organs at once and unable to move my body. Like being hit by a car but feeling the force continuously.

               After ten minutes of thrust gravity, anti nausea and blood thinning medication, and now complete denial coming out in the form of euphoria, the thrust stopped, and I started to float.

               I took deep breaths for I don’t know how long. Long and deep. My muscles were incredibly soar but I could move them now. The engineer, overwhelmed by the feelings of launch and sudden weightlessness, panicked for the bag at his side and threw up, having to spit out the last bit in a disgusting blob to catch in the bag.

               I made my way over to the captain on the far side of the ship, and told him about the cans. I told him the scheme of the cans and that Carmina was on board. He was annoyed but understood that there wasn’t much he could do.

               “We noticed those foreign objects attached to the vessel…”

               “And? Are they okay?”

               “Yes. We don’t have any firepower on this so the crew was going to cut them off momentarily.”

               “Have they yet?”

               “No. Since there are people inside, I suppose we aught to bring them in.”

               “How many are there?”

               “Eighteen in total. Hurry up to the cargo hold.”

               I jumped with joy, forgetting the lack of gravity and hitting my head. It took a few minutes but I made it there as the doors were closed and the airlock cycled. Me, and twenty other families ran down looking for our cans. Some shrieked, seeing their loved ones turned to ice. Others cheered, seeing their loved ones miraculously alive and well. The two families who’s cans were lost before making it to orbit wandered through each can hoping that they missed whoever it was they smuggled with them.

               I just stared in terror. Her body was turned in a way that was impossible for a living person. She looked like she was curled into a spiral and her arms switched sides. Her neck had snapped and her head turned fully around. When I stuffed her inside the can, apparently the side facing away from the bounty wasn’t the back. The can was looped around some trees when it was built, making the direction of gravity actually in the direction of the ship. Her head was caved in by seven g’s of force as soon as launch began. I wanted to say she laid there peacefully, but the only word I could describe her position in was complete collapse.