Orphans

23

23 There is no sleep after the massage. And there won’t be, so I head into the Simulator Room, put on a motion capture suit and goggles, and step in front of the green screen. A small robotic belch emerges from above me. “What shall we do today sir,” the E.C. says, “do you want to fly across the cosmos or swim in the deepest seas?” “I would like to kite-surf,” I say, “across the Martian desert. Can that be arranged?” “Of course sir, one moment,” the E.C. replies. It is quiet for a moment, but then there is wind in my face, harsh wind, biting and granular, the sand blasting into my cheeks, and an unexpectedly stifling heat baking my forehead. Soon I am holding my kite, my feet flat on my board, shifting with the sand’s constant undulations. The wind is coming from a variety of directions. I am gliding up and down the dunes, crossing valleys of all heights and depths, cutting through the sand like a knife and bouncing across the random streams of salt water carving errant crevasses across my path. I am free. I am greatness. I am suddenly at the bottom of steep dune. I start to climb, my calves and forearms aching, the sand biting my face, the sky as purple as a bruised plum. I begin to crest the top of the dune, and as I reach the peak I find myself hurtling into space, soaring and beautiful, a cosmic explorer, tiny and glowing, just another star to anyone on Earth. B E N TA N Z E R 79 I close my eyes and I take a deep breath. When I open them again I am standing alone in the Simulator Room alone with the green screen and the motion capture suit. “What happened?” I say in barely a whisper. “We will be arriving shortly, Mr. Radd,” a voice says, burping to life somewhere above me “Please gather your belongings and buckle-up for the final descent.” ...