Summer of 69'

Summer of 2019

Dr. David Katz - not that kind of doctor – had always felt nostalgic for the summer of 69'. He had been born in 92', so it wasn't because those days were the best of his life; he just wished he could have been there, at the Apollo 11 mission control room, when the Eagle had landed.

But no matter how glorious that summer must had been, it was 2019, and David knew that he was fifty years too late. On the good news, NASA had recently started burning through a thirty-billion-dollar budget, sometimes literally (rocket fuel!) allocated specifically so that they could send humans to the moon again by 2024.

The Artemis mission being on such a tight schedule meant that NASA was recruiting heavily, and David, who had just been awarded his PhD in aerospace engineering, was thrilled to be one of the new recruits. The only downside was that the move from Pasadena to Cape Canaveral was quite challenging, and not just because it was a logistic nightmare. David had come to Caltech as an undergraduate in what seemed to him like last week, but somehow he was suddenly twenty-seven and had a Dr. before his name. He still wasn't sure how that happened.

It was David's third day at Kennedy, and he had officially become a junior member of the lunar lander team, responsible for building and maintaining Artemis' landing spacecraft. He was now sitting at his very first meeting, listening to the team veterans discussing the latest design suggestions.

Before said meeting had started, Joe Baker - David's new boss - introduced him to everyone whom he hadn't yet met. That was hardly unusual, but that supposedly routine social ritual had made David's heart race as if he were running an Olympic sprint – one of the people he had been introduced to was Benjamin Han.

The son of a Korean American father and a Jewish American mother, Han had long earned a place at the top of the "Jews cooler than David" list David had been running in his head since he could remember. All astronauts were highly accomplished – they were astronauts – but Han was a league of his own. The notion of him working with someone like Han made David feel wholly inadequate, like an impostor soon to be exposed.  

And it wasn't just about Han's achievements, thought David. An unwritten rule said that NASA astronauts had to be at least photogenic, if not outright handsome, and Han more than fit the bill. His height – 6'1 - would have disqualified him from becoming an astronaut in the old days, when the capsules couldn't fit people taller than 5'11, and his cheek bones were sharp enough one could cut himself on them. David used to have Han's official NASA portrait as his phone's wallpaper, but was sensible enough to replace it the day before he started at Kennedy. But regardless of his man-crush sitting just across from him, David told himself, he was perfectly capable of concentrating on the discussion at hand.

Being the newbie, David fully intended to talk as little as possible and listen as much as possible. That had worked well enough, until he noticed that one of the proposed changes could become very problematic if any of the astronauts were to press the button they were talking about at the wrong time during the descent to the lunar surface. David took a deep breath, waited for a break in the discussion, and spoke up.

Unfortunately, his boss disagreed with him. "They're astronauts, not toddlers. They don't make this kind of mistakes."

David stood his ground. "That's what they said in the sixties. There's a story about how Margaret Hamilton used to bring her daughter to work with her on the weekends, and one day the kid selected the pre-launch option during the flight simulation, making everything crash. Hamilton then wanted to implement an error detection recovery code, but everyone else thought it was unnecessary – until Jim Lovell had made the exact same mistake when Apollo 8 was orbiting the moon."

Baker raised his eyebrows. "How do you even know that?"

"I've read a lot about the original space race."

"Well, that's an interesting anecdote, and might have been relevant in the sixties, but it was a different era. There's no need today for such measures."

"Wait a second, Joe," interfered Han. "David has a point. I've seen many intelligent, well-trained people make stupid mistakes. I've made a few myself. We should take this into account."

"Are you saying that the lander should be idiot-proof?" Baker asked.

"I'm saying that the lander should be smart-people-who-sometimes-make-mistakes-proof."

Baker, though still looking less than convinced, wrote 'idiot-proofing' on the white board next to him. David breathed a sigh of relief.

David was packing his laptop back into its bag after the meeting had ended, when he heard Han's voice behind him.

"That was nerdy. Even for NASA".

Turning, David found Han standing close. He did his best not to hyperventilate.

"If you want to call me a nerd, go ahead. I've been getting that since I was two-year-old."

"Why since then?" Han sounded genuinely curious.

"That's when my mother had taught me how to read and write."

"Now that's hardcore. Even my parents had waited until the ripe old age of three."

David had long ago guessed that tutoring him was Mom's way of taking her mind off the then-recent death of his father, but he didn't tell Han that.

"She believes in the importance of education," he said instead.

"I can imagine," said Han. "Anyway, nice talking to you, but I have to get going. See you around."

David nodded, trying to come up with a clever and witty reply but failing miserably.

David was a responsible, mature adult, and by repeating that to himself over and over again he managed to wait till the end of the official working hours on Friday before he went snooping for the room where they had found the 007 and 008 space suits.

After fifteen minutes of wandering around, he started regretting not tying a thread to his office's doorknob. The place was huge. David stopped for a moment and was wondering whether he should go right or left, when he was suddenly grabbed by the back of his shirt. Giving a surprised yelp, he turned his head to find that the grabbing hand belonged to one Benjamin Han, who was studying him as if he were a murder suspect. This isn't good, David thought. He was sure that Han could break him like a twig, though he probably wouldn't - they weren't in high school anymore. He could, however, get David fired.

"What are you doing, sneaking around like that?"

David tried playing it cool. "I'm exploring the building."

"Exploring the building? Just after everyone went home for the weekend? How convenient." Yes, this was definitely an interrogation, and his interrogator wasn't happy with him.

"What do you think I'm doing? I'm not a Russian spy! We're past the cold war!" Okay, perhaps that was the wrong thing to say. If Han hadn't considered the possibility of David being a spy before, he was definitely going to now.

Han snorted. "Of course you're not a Russian spy. A Russian spy – any spy, really – would have noticed he was being followed ages ago."

"Then what's the problem?"

"The problem is that I suspect that you're sneaking around to search for little green men."

That was downright insulting. "That's nonsense!" David cried indignantly. "I'll have you know that I had read about the Drake Equation and the Fermi Paradox at the age of eight. And, while it was one of my biggest childhood's disappointments, I'm well aware that the chance of aliens visiting planet earth makes the chances of winning the lottery seem promising."

Han's face softened a bit after hearing David's rant, which David considered a good sign. He might be able to keep his job after all.

"Let's say you aren't looking for aliens. This leaves the obvious question."

"What am I looking for?"

"Exactly."

David took a deep breath. This was going to be embarrassing, but the alternative was Han thinking he was looking for freaking aliens.

"Are you familiar with the Air Force's Manned Orbiting Laboratory program? It was supposed to be an intelligence-gathering project, but was scrapped a month before Apollo 11 was launched."

"I heard about it. What does it have to do with you, though?"

"You see, in 2004 two security officers had discovered a locked room in one of the abandoned corridors of this complex, and it had a box inside. In the box there were two sixties-looking space suits. Blue suits. NASA hadn't used that color for spacesuits back then. Not in Gemini, Mercury or Apollo. And the best part? One of the suits had the number 007 on it, the other had 008."

Han's expression told David he was back to thinking David was, scientifically speaking, batshit crazy.  

"Google it," David dared him. "You'll see that I'm right. Richard E. lawyer was 008, we know that much - but nobody knows who was the program's James Bond."

Han, looking very doubtful, released his hold on David's shirt in favor of pulling out his phone and typing.

Two minutes later: "You're right."

David felt quite smug. "I don't want to say, 'I told you so', but…"

"I've already admitted you're right, no need to rub it in. So there's a room somewhere in this maze of a building where they had found those spacesuits. What I don't get is why you're searching for it. Obviously they're not there anymore."

"They're not," David agreed. "But you said it yourself: I'm nerdy, even for NASA. I live for this kind of stories, and I want to see the place for myself. Yes, I know that's weird."

"Hey, I'm the guy who will be travelling in a spaceship made from parts all bought from the lowest bidders, just to see the moon for himself. No judging. Just…you know that the room is probably locked, right?"

"I know."

"And you still want to search for it."

"Yes."

"In that case, lead the way. I'd like to see for myself as well."

"Actually, I'm not exactly sure where it is…"

"We'll figure it out," Han promised. He examined the right and left corridors before choosing the right. David wasn't sure what had made him choose it, but he followed.

After five minutes or so of silent walking, Han suddenly spoke.

"Your article is well-written."

"Sorry?"

"The article about ignition temperatures that has you as first author. It's quite innovative. How did you come up with the idea?"

David resisted his urge to jump up and down in excitement, but just barely. Han thought that his article was well-written and innovative!

"Well, at my first year as a doctoral candidate, I read an article by Williamson and Lee, and it occurred to me that…"

It had taken another forty-five minutes, but eventually they reached their destination. Success!

Han tried the door. "It's locked."

Okay, so not so much of a success. David sighed. "Well, we anticipated that."

Han nodded. "Yeah. Well, we tried. Come on, let's get out of here and I'll buy you a beer. You just survived your first week at NASA. This calls for a celebration."

Benjamin Han was going to buy David a beer to celebrate his first week at NASA. For His Life.

Three months later they were sitting on Ben's couch, eating pizza and having a heated discussion about NASA's current state of affairs.  

"All I'm saying is that we put too much effort into public relations and not enough into actual space exploration," complained David. "It's like I once read: NASA isn't a space agency with PR, it's a PR agency with a space agency! Even astronauts are recruited with the thought of turning them into poster boys and girls in mind."

Ben tilted his head. "Did you just call me a poster boy?"

Oh, no. David felt heat rising in his cheeks.  

"I didn't mean to…"

"It's fine, I'm not insulted or anything. It's just that I associate the term with being Christian, white, and straight. I'm none of the above."

David's cheeks became even more heated.

"Oh, I didn't know. Well, obviously I had known about your heritage, but…"

"But NASA doesn't list their astronauts' sexual orientation on official publications," Ben finished.

David gave a nervous chuckle. "Yeah, I guess it's not the kind of information that goes into press releases."

"What about you? You haven't mentioned a girlfriend or a boyfriend."

"Oh, I'm single. Definitely single. Used to consider myself married to my PhD, but now it's over, and I…I mean…would you like…never mind." Oh, God. He was about to ask Ben out. He had never asked a guy out before in his life, hadn't even thought of that. "I have to go."

"David, it's fine. We don't have to talk about this if you don't want to."

"I have to go," David repeated, practically running to the front door and trying to pretend he hadn't noticed Ben's hurt face. "I'm sorry."

It had taken David two days to calm down, and another four to make up his mind.

Can I come over? He texted Ben.

After a moment he texted again:

Please

Then he sat down and stared at his phone until Ben replied.

Fine

"I'm sorry," was the first thing David said when he entered Ben's apartment.

Ben shrugged. "You're hardly the first straight guy to gay panic."

"I'm not…"

"You weren't panicking?" Ben asked dryly.

"I was panicking. Still am. What I'm not, apparently, is straight."

That appeared to have taken Ben by surprise. "Go on," he said slowly.

"I think…" David paused, took a deep breath, then started again. "I think I have feelings for you, and not just in a bromance sort of way. I've never felt this way about a guy before, and I panicked."

Ben, much to David's relief, wasn't frowning anymore. "Are you saying you haven't known you're attracted to men before we met?"

David nodded. "I thought about it a lot in the last few days. I think…I think I was attracted to men every now and then, but I was also attracted to women, so I just rationalized my attraction to men as having 'man-crushes'."

"Man-crushes," Ben repeated. It was obvious he was trying not to laugh.

"Don't laugh!"

"I'm not! Well, maybe a little. So, what are you planning to do with your newfound knowledge?"

"You're enjoying this way too much."

"Sorry," Ben said, his tone telling he wasn't sorry at all.

"I would like to…ask you out, I guess. I'll understand if you say no. I know you have plenty of options…"

"Oh, screw options," Ben said, grinning. "Yes, I want to go out with you. And don't worry, we'll take it slow. No need for panic."

"You're never going to let me live it down, are you?"

"Nope. This is too good. Man-crushes!"

It had been three months since David had started dating Ben, and he decided it was time to fly back home for a visit and tell his Mom face-to-face that he was dating another man. He guessed she was going to be, at the very least, quite surprised.

After lunch, David decided it was time to come clean. "Mom, I've been in a relationship in the last three months. And, well, he's a really great guy."

Mom put down her glass. "I'm glad you're finally dating someone. What's his name? Where did you meet him?"

David knew Mom wasn't homophobic, but he wasn't expecting her to accept the news in such a casual way. "Aren't you going to say anything about me dating a man? It's not like I dated guys before."

"Honey," said his mother patiently, "straight men don't have a photo of another man as their phone's wallpaper. I've known for ages, but was waiting for you to catch up."

David facepalmed. "God, how could you have known before me? Unbelievable."

"Well, better late than never," Mom said matter-of-factly. "Now, when do I get to meet him? How does he feel about converting to Judaism? You could have Rabbi Levin officiating your marriage if your guy is open to the possibility."

"Mom! We've only been dating for three months! It's way too soon for that. And he is Jewish, according to the Halakha, anyway - his mother is Jewish. I'm dating Ben Han."

"The astronaut friend you've been mentioning on every call for the last three months."

"That's the one." And David couldn't help but grinning smugly when saying that, because yes, he was dating Ben.

"Honestly, I should have guessed. Anyway, him being Jewish is quite fortunate. Men aren't eager to convert to Judaism, you know."

"Can't imagine why," David murmured.

"Behave yourself."

"Sorry. Just…if and when I bring him to meet you, don't mention marriage. You'll scare him off."

"He's an astronaut. They're very brave people."

"Not that brave."

Summer of 2029

Almost ten years later, rather than five – the original plans hadn't taken COVID-19 into account – the spacecraft carrying Ben and the other crew members was hovering close to the surface of the lunar South Pole.

David, however, wasn't in the control room – NASA's policy forbade spouses from working on the same projects at the same time. He, his Mom, and Ben's parents were watching the landing alongside the families of the other astronauts. David was torn between excitement and fear – so many things could still go wrong.

Everyone watched with bated breath as the capsule slowly made its descent. When it finally reached the surface, the room exploded with cheers.

Forget the summer of 69', thought David as he clapped and cheered at the top of his lungs. The summer of 29' was the best time to be alive.