Proxima B. Pulvirenti Giorgio
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“They explained everything to us during the lecture. They’re recruiting the best pilots, soldiers, doctors, chemists and engineers of the world, and I’m part of this group. We must reach our decision within seven days. Then we must appear in Washington again. And I’m sure that the best choice is to say yes.”
It was hard for them to hear those words, especially for David’s wife, who was increasingly dumbfounded.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Gaia wondered. She leaned the spoon on the dish almost violently, and the tablecloth was spattered with some drops of soup.
“Listen to me, my dear…,” he said.
But he was abruptly interrupted by his wife, who asked him, “Are you aware of what you’ve just said?”
“Listen to me!” David tried to press her, who, however, would not listen to reason.
“Haven’t you thought of Leo and me? How long would it take to accomplish this mission?” she asked him.
“You got it! Actually, it’s a one-way travel! Once you’re gone, you can’t come back!”
Gaia opened her eyes wide as if she did not believe in what she had just heard. David made the most of his wife’s silence. So, he could finish his speech.
“Obviously, I saw to Leo and you, too. If the mission is successful at the first attempt, the spaceships will come back and other people, including the families of those who had left first, will be caught.”
Gaia’s expression changed for a moment.
“What do you mean?” she asked him. She was full of doubts.
“That’s so. Before leaving, we must sign a contract with the Government and New NASA Corporate that assures us that we shall live a new life on Proxima B!” David said finally with increasing certainty.
Gaia’s soup had gotten cold; moreover, she had lost her appetite due to the piece of news she had just heard.
What came out of her mouth were only the following words, “I don’t know what to say…”
“Listen, my dear. This mission aims to save the whole human race, and I feel compelled to be part of this project, sacrificing myself for my neighbor, just like I was taught by my parents and my grandparents,” her husband told her.
His words sounded differently from five minutes before, which made Gaia look less hesitant about the matter.
“We should talk about it with Leo, too,” the woman said, nearly forcing herself to speak.
“Of course. I’ll do it tomorrow morning,” the man added. Then he kissed her wife on the cheek; she stood up and leaned the dish, which was still half full, on the sink.
“I’ll go home. I’m exhausted,” she said.
“Okay. Tomorrow morning you’ll see this matter in a different light. Trust me,” David added, letting her get into bed. She deserved her own rest.
David sat down again and grabbed his tablet with both hands. On its monitor a document stood out. All information about the mission could be found there.
New York.
The noise of the cues hitting alternately the cue balls on the pool table was the background to country music and the soft murmur that resounded through the same old pub on the 44th street where Michael used to go. He was a regular by now. It was about 11 o’ clock in the evening and the man was sitting on his usual wood swivel seat. He was ordering his same old glass of whiskey.
“Another shot, Sten!”
The barman did not hesitate to satisfy Michael’s request.
“Hey, my friend, are you attempting to make up what you’ve missed lately?” Sten asked him almost ironically while pouring some other whiskey in Michael’s glass that he drank in one gulp.
“By the way, where have you been?” the man asked from behind the counter.
“It’s not your business!” Michael answered in his usual drunken man’s tone. Sten had known him for a long time and he could not take it out on him. Instead, he kept on insisting, regardless of him.
“Come on, my friend, admit it! You may have done some nice blonde girls!”
Michael glanced at him almost threateningly. Sten realized that he would rather give it a rest and devote himself to the wiping of some glasses with a tea towel before putting them back in place.
“Do you mind if I stay here a little longer?” the man asked him. His expression was getting sadder.
Sten looked at him carefully, and then he replied, “You know I’d never kick you off, Mr. Stateman… You’re my best customer!”
Michael outlined some kind of smile and raised his glass, which meant that he was asking for some more whiskey.
“Actually, I did meet a nice blonde…,” he said while he was looking for Sten’s gaze.
“Did you? Who was she?” the barman asked him.
“She was a doctor in Washington… I was there for a lecture,” he answered.
Sten started to look at Michael just like he used to do after his tenth glass.
“I was asked to be the pilot of a spaceship that is going to take part in a mission of colonization of another planet in order to save the Earth,” Michael confessed. His speech caught the attention of the five men playing pool. Sten laid the tea towel and approached the ex-pilot, pulling the glass off the counter.
“So, you should save the Earth, shouldn’t you? Very good, Mr. Stateman!” Stan said; he smiled almost mockingly at Michael while he was exchanging a few glances with the pool players that began to come towards the counter.
“I dare say that we already scored today…,” the counterman said finally while beginning to wash the glass in which the man had gulped down his whiskey.
“So, tell me: what’s with the mission, bro?”
One of the five men, a colored one, went next to Michael and put a hand on his shoulder, as if he, who did not believe anything he said either, wanted to mock him, especially given the condition in which the ex-Marine was.
“And to think that I was bothering about dying here on Earth while this hero is going to save us all!” a man mumbled snootily. He and other men were surrounding Michael, who was still sitting comfortably on his stool. Sten had already realized how things would go on, so he tried to handle the situation.
“Boys, let it alone!” he said, but another big guy motioned for silence.
“So, big man… If you can’t save yourself, how could you save mankind?”
As soon as the man uttered these words, Michael swung around abruptly, hitting him with his violent fist right in the face, which