The Most Beautiful Thing Redux
According to Joanni’s Earth calendar, it was now springtime. April, almost May. In space, however, with no movement of her distant home sun to discern, nor any breeze, nor rain, each day felt like a week, each week like a month. Yes, it was almost May, but there would be at least four months slowly passing through its march of days, it would seem, before June and summer arrived. And how would summer manifest differently than any other season within the confines of the majestic but sleek metal alloy cage of the Eridanus. Despite this unaccommodating aspect of time, the mood aboard the ship began to lift as the diplomatic corps and crew finally approached their mission goal, the planet Oreana.
Captain Chipman pushed the intercom button on the panel to the side of his command chair. “Ms. Neiswender, report to the bridge.”
A few minutes later, Joanni stood beside Chipman on the bridge of the massive galaxyship, full of excitement and anticipation, rising up and down on her toes, unable to keep still. She turned to her captain. “Thank you for taking us to Oreana.” She smiled at him, knowing he understood both her appreciation for everything he had done for her and her humor in downplaying the enormity of the situation. They both got it and each other.
“Excited?” he asked.
“You know I am. To see things that no one, well, no one from Earth has ever seen before . . . the unknown, the dangerous, perhaps; the beautiful.” They were united in this, these two explorers at heart. It was as if her father had returned from the vast nothingness of space into which he had vanished to give them his blessing.
Chipman ordered Helmsman Wynde to increase magnification on the forward screen, and Oreana—Joanni’s destiny—came into visual range. Small and far away still, but growing steadily larger, a silvery sphere with violet hues swirling over its surface. Its luminance at this distance gave the appearance of being generated from within its core rather than being a reflection of its solar system sun. It was beautiful to Joanni. The most beautiful thing. She closed one eye and held up one hand in front of her, imagining she was holding the planet in the palm of her hand. There followed a period of silence as she and the captain both watched the view screen; their thoughts were kept to themselves, but they were comfortable with and remained connected within that silence.
After Joanni received news of her mother’s death, Tom Chipman never left her side again—not in a physical sense, of course, he was gone quite often—but emotionally. The night after she had broken down playing the piano, he stayed with her, the two of them lying together on her bed with her head on his shoulder. “It’s okay, we’ll work things out together,” he told her again.
Joanni was silent for a few moments, then said, “I feel as if you’ve made a decision.”
“Yeah?” Silence again except for Joanni’s soft breathing. “Well, what decision?” he demanded gently.
“I’m probably wrong.”
“Try me.”
“To lower your shields rather than raise them.”
Tom propped himself up on one elbow. “How’d you know that?”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing.”
They decided then to commit to one another, to marry at some future point when the logistics could be worked out and bureaucratic obstacles addressed. “You’ll lock yourself in tighter, you know,” Joanni told him.
“I know.”
“I will only ever have two requests of you, but they’re big ones: don’t die and always love me. Everything else is negotiable.”
They both laughed at this but, underneath it all, they were serious. They realized and accepted the limitations and compromises of their partnership. They would each try to rein in their individual insecurities rather than indulge in them. There were major obstacles ahead, but they were not afraid of the unknown, or the future, their future.
It was perhaps ironic that as Joanni strengthened her ties with her spaceman, she experienced an increasingly heightened nostalgia for Earth. A sweet, strong longing; so strong at times it hurt. A longing for summer heat and balmy wind. For May to turn to June. She ran fantastic thoughts through her mind, concocting exquisite fantasies of living off the land—the captain a farmer of the verdant countryside, Joanni his helper and mate: And she ran into the field where he was hard at work, tilling the soil, sweat soaking the shirt covering his strong back, a flock of blackbirds overhead waiting to swoop down and capture upturned grubs, and showed him the tomato she had just picked, a tomato so carefully cultivated that was now ripe and red. She held it up and smiled and said, “It’s perfect.” It was perfect, and they had made it together.
As the Eridanus drew closer to Oreana, the captain and Joanni continued to stare at the viewing screen in silence, Joanni getting so nervous she could feel her heart beating in her chest. Chipman looked over at her and concern raced through his mind that the pull of this planet, the power it had over her, could take her away from him. Would she remain of this world or be drawn into and captured by the one ahead.
“Prepare for orbit entry, helmsman,” he said. “And open communication channels, Lt. Morrison, with Oreana.”
Image source:
Left: British Library digitized image from “Man: Palæolithic, Neolithic, and Several Other Races, Not Inconsistent With Scripture” by Nemo. Dublin, 1876. Edited by J. Weigley (See also, Chapter 5, The Most Beautiful Thing).
Right: British Library digitized image from “Pre-Adamite Man; or the Story of Our Old Planet, etc.” by Mrs. George John C. Duncan. London, Edinburgh, 1866. Edited by J. Weigley.