It turned out to be simple. Professor Trottelreiner had just had a drink or two and, slightly losing his balance, fell into a ditch. His behavior seemed incongruous with his status as the greatest scientist who stood at the forefront of astronautics. But that didn't satisfy me. I expected something more impressive from him, not such a casual, everyday fall into a ditch. A man who could change the future of humanity should not forget himself like that.
I looked at him suspiciously, but still extended my hand to help him up.
"Are you all right, Professor?" I repeated the question, trying to discern in his eyes at least a shadow of the genius I expected to see.
He pulled his jacket down again, buttoned it, and staggered a little, but still stood straight.
"Okay, okay," he said with a slight grin. "Just drifted away from reality for a minute. It happens."
I felt annoyed. This was not the man I had imagined. This unperturbed, slightly cheeky fellow with glasses and a cheerful look was far from the image of a hermit scientist who works tirelessly, burning with love for science and discovery. I expected greatness, but instead I saw an ordinary man who had become carried away by easy pleasures.
"Professor..." I started again, but this time with insistence, "I need to talk to you about the OMEN project. You have discovered a new theory that opens up new horizons for humanity, and I want to be a part of it."
He looked at me, his gaze becoming more focused, but then immediately returning to its former lightness.
"The project? Oh, yes, of course, OMEN. Do you want to be on the program?" he asked, almost as if he was joking, his voice less confident. "It's not as easy as it sounds. But it might be worth considering. Who knows?"
I didn't know what to do. Something inside me turned over: this was not just a meeting with a great scientist, but a meeting with a person whose ambitions and intelligence might not be so deep. But still, I decided not to give up.
"I am ready to do whatever it takes to get into your project, professor. I am not here for nothing, I believe that I can help."
The professor, his colleague Tarantogha and I boarded a bus full of people and immediately realized that this would be a journey no one would forget. The bus was cramped, crowded and noisy: conductors shouted their usual phrases, passers-by pushed their way through the crowd with difficulty, and the professor and I tried not to be too noticeable, but at the same time to stay in shape.
However, the professor apparently decided that this atmosphere was ideal for the beginning of the lecture. Before the bus had even pulled away, he turned to me and began to passionately talk about the OMEN project.
"Now," he began, brushing imaginary dust from his jacket, "what's important to understand in the first phase of the project is that we're using new methods of gravity that can..." and then his voice was interrupted by the conductor's shouts:
"Tickets, give me tickets, who doesn't have a ticket?!"
The professor didn't lose his composure and continued his lecture, despite all the external distractions, with such passion as if he was trying to convince not only me but the entire bus that this was a great discovery for humanity. I began to think that maybe he really was not himself and someone had accidentally replaced him with a double.
"My colleagues and I are conducting experiments that…" he began again, and then the bus suddenly braked, sending all the standing passengers into aerial acrobatics.
Tarantoga, who was sitting next to him, managed to grab the handrail, but the professor showed no emotion. Apparently, against the backdrop of his scientific ambitions, there was no room for ordinary human experiences. He continued to explain the concept of "parallel realities", not noticing how his lecture was becoming not only funny, but also completely inappropriate in this situation.
"So, my colleagues and I are looking for ways..." he tried again, but at that moment the bus skidded into a hole, and all the passengers, including the professor, swayed to the side, sending him straight into Tarantoga's knee.
Tarantoga, without losing his composure for a second, muttered:
"Maybe, instead of lectures, we should give the command "stand up"?"
But the professor was not distracted. He continued in his own style:
"Gravity... parallel dimensions... a completely new theory! But if you and I could really fly..."
I watched this with surprise and slight irritation. It seemed that the professor had not noticed that the bus had turned into a swaying concert hall, and his lecture into an impromptu scientific circus. But as soon as we finally arrived at the right stop, the professor finished his monologue with a solemn expression on his face.
"So, I'm sure we can change the world. Now, who's going to go next?"
I looked at his satisfied face and thought: maybe I really got into the project, but it seems that in order to get into OMEN, I need to master not only scientific terms, but also the ability to survive on crowded buses.
The professor, sitting on the bus, continued his lecture with such energy as if we were all gathered in a hall for scientific debates, and not in an overcrowded bus on the Bangkok highway. His colleague, Tarantoga, smiled and sighed strangely, and I tried to find the slightest chance to get out of this theater of the absurd.
"So," said the professor, choking with indignation at the conductor's interruption in mid-sentence, "the OMEN project! It's an acronym, yes, but what an acronym! It stands for Observational Methods for Establishing Navigation!"
I turned to Tarantog, who looked as if he had been listening for more than one time.
"It means that we are developing observation methods to create a completely new approach to space navigation!" the professor continued, his voice shaking with excitement. "With the help of advanced technologies, we will be able to track not only the vector of movement, but also predict space disasters! Rockets will become as precise as a drawing scratched with a ruler, do you understand?"
Tarantoga nodded as if he really understood, and I was even a little envious of his air of confidence. The entire bus seemed suddenly to have frozen in his professorial speeches. I just stared at his shining forehead, which seemed completely out of place among the mass of sweaty bodies.
"And finally, the most important thing!" the professor finished, clearly proud of his discovery. "In a few years, we will be able to travel through space as if on local routes! And who knows, maybe even on buses! Ha-ha! - he laughed, in response to himself, and several passengers picked up his laughter, not understanding what was happening."
I looked at Tarantoga. He wiped his forehead with a handkerchief and added with an imperturbable expression:
"And we will also analyze all the data to prove the theory of time travel... well, or at least check if it is possible to beat the clock on old buses in Bangkok!"
At this point, everyone on the bus couldn't hold back their laughter, and even the conductor joined in, making us cry with laughter.
"So," said the professor, "the OMEN project is in full swing. And who knows, perhaps in the future we will travel not only across planets, but also along bus routes, where I will give lectures right on the way!"
Finally the bus stopped, and at that very moment the roar of an orchestra playing a solemn tup came from the loudspeakers. It was precisely at that moment that I realized that I was entering a completely different world. Everything that was happening around me seemed to be part of some cosmic play in which I was just an actor who had accidentally ended up on stage. A crowd of people, all in suits, with important faces, were moving towards the new cosmodrome, and I, involuntarily carried away by its flow, found myself among them. For a few seconds I even forgot that I was not the only violator of normal public order on the bus.
"By the way, Professor, how are you enjoying it here at the cosmodrome?" I asked, turning to Professor Trottelreiner, who, as it turned out, had managed not only to cover all possible scientific horizons in his lecture, but also to find a common language with absolutely everyone he met.
"Oh, this is just the beginning," he shook his head with a smile, as if we had long been part of a great and important mission. "We have a whole galaxy of possibilities here! Hey, Tarantoga, look, that man in white, I think that's my new colleague. He was supposed to come to help us test the new experimental engine! There will be no questions. Everything will be checked! Purely scientifically!"
Before he could finish his sentence, I noticed a familiar person approaching us with a piece of paper, which clearly contained detailed instructions for all those who had arrived. Well, I was so carried away by this whole galactic atmosphere that I didn't even realize that I was already standing in line to register as a participant in the project.
I tried to hold back my laughter, but I couldn't. It all seemed so ridiculous and so important at the same time. At that moment I thought: well, here we are, the spaceport, Trottelreiner, a new project, and I, just a guy who a few hours ago sat on a crowded bus, simply missing the chance to find out what gravity really is.
Meanwhile, the professor had already disappeared into the crowd, discussing some details with Tarantog, and I was finally able to approach the building, where preparations were already in full swing for the launch of new research.
Finally, everything settled down. They explained everything to me, prepared everything, and I was already sitting in a chair in a spacesuit, feeling the weight of space reality approaching me. On the outside, I probably looked like a typical astronaut, but inside, everything was a little different. I was not prepared for what was about to happen. But then, who could possibly be prepared for a flight into space with such a set of previous circumstances?
The assistants were frantically fiddling with the fittings, connecting all sorts of wires and checking every element of the suit, as if if something went wrong the whole project would go to hell. One assistant, with a long, bewildered face, whispered something into the microphone, and soon a response came from the chief engineer. Professor Trottelreiner, meanwhile, was still busy with safety issues, smiling all the time and saying things like:
"No panic, everything is under control! Tarantogha and I have been checking all the systems for a long time. In the worst case, we have five minutes to land... or for something else, if, of course, something goes wrong."
And then, as if on cue, the question from Moddard, the senior assistant, pierced the air:
"Are you ready?"
For a moment, I thought he was asking me as if I were just about to step into an elevator, not a spaceship. But when I met his gaze, I realized that this question wasn't about preparation, but about the very essence of our plan. It was a statement: We're all here, and it doesn't matter that we still don't understand how this is all going to work. We're just ready.
I nodded. Yes, I was ready. Or at least I tried to convince myself that I was.
Moddard, still with that stern expression on his face, said:
"Station DAMIEN will accept you, and your mission will begin there."
I frowned slightly, trying to comprehend what kind of station this was. It seemed like it had to be something important and high-tech, since its name sounded so mysterious and enigmatic. Moddard, noticing my questioning look, clarified:
"It's short for Dimensional Astronautical Mission and Interstellar Exploration Network. Interstellar exploration mission, you know? We're not just going to space, we're going to explore new dimensions! And the station is a base for such expeditions. Everything there is set up for such research."
I quietly commented:
"Well, now it's clearer."
Moddard chuckled and looked away, apparently appreciating my enthusiasm. We rode in the rocket-or rather, toward the rocket, which was about to rise into the sky, leaving Earth behind. With each passing second, I felt myself becoming more and more consumed by everything that was happening.
I was brought into the rocket's cockpit, and immediately a strange feeling came over me - as if everything that had happened before was just preparation for something much more important and intense. The spacious cabin was filled with light and various flashing indicators, constantly reminding me that I was far from the only person who had been brought here. But despite this, I felt as if I were in the void, in the very center of space, ready to begin something grandiose.
Moddard walked over to the control panel and began checking the system. I watched his hands running over the buttons and levers, confidently interacting with this technogenic reality, while I stood to the side, holding my breath, trying to get used to this new world.
"You don't have to worry," he said, noticing my nervous shifting from foot to foot. "Everything will be fine. You're a volunteer, not an astronaut, so you don't have to worry about complicated maneuvers or systems control. We'll just send you into orbit, and the automation will do the rest. It's like a taxi ride, only in space.
I nodded, but of course it wasn't easy to relax. Everything that was happening seemed incredible and, frankly, wildly unusual. New messages and graphs flashed on the screens, and I felt my heart begin to beat faster. Listening to the voices in the headphones, I increasingly wondered: "What will happen if this doesn't work?"
Moddard finished his check and smiled. He took a few steps back to make room for the engineer, who came over and handed me a list of final instructions. In English, of course, in perfect order. Everything seemed so clear and obvious - instructions for refueling the suit, communicating with the base, and so on.
They wished me luck and got out, and the hatch, as if in response to their words, closed behind them with a terrible roar. Inside the cabin, I was alone. Everything suddenly became silent. Lightning fast and truly tangible. There was a ringing emptiness in my ears, and all the thoughts that this might not be entirely real began to spin in my head again. But there was no choice - I was here, at the launch site, in a rocket that in a few minutes was supposed to take off from the Earth and not return.
Numbers flashed on the screens in front of me, and the system began its countdown. But instead of anxiously watching the launch approach, I felt a strange detachment. It was as if I were in another dimension, a world where there was no time or space, just a vast empty "here," and that was where I was headed.
I sent my last thoughts to Earth, to my children, to dead Asia, but then I realized: none of it mattered anymore. I was sitting in this rocket cabin, with all this journey ahead of me, and there was nowhere to go back to. There was no point in regrets and memories, no point in attachments and hopes that someone or something would be waiting for me. I was in space. And now this was my home, in the only sense in which it could be called home.
My brain was desperate to connect with what I had left behind, but it seemed so distant, so alien, as if I was looking at my life through a fog. I thought about the children I hadn't seen in months, how they probably didn't even remember what their father looked like. And Asia… yes, Asia. She was already part of the life I couldn't get back, the world I had left.
The rocket swung again, and the screen in front of me lit up with a bright, almost blinding light. I swallowed, trying to concentrate. Liftoff was not a moment to prepare for. It was the moment when everything ended and began at the same time. Moddard spoke again.
"We begin the countdown. Launch in 30 seconds."
I looked at the panel and couldn't shake the feeling that this was some kind of last, most decisive attempt for me. There was no choice.
The countdown began. I watched the screens as the numbers slowly decreased, and the feeling of anxiety began to grow, just like tense strings ready to snap at any moment.
"Thirty. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight..." Moddard's voice sounded increasingly distant, as if he wasn't there, but speaking from the other end of the universe.
Everything inside me tightened. I tried to focus on the screens, but my attention kept slipping away. Space. It was still something that was impossible to grasp, impossible to understand. My gaze darted from the panel to the porthole, where the earth was flashing by, becoming less and less like a planet, and more like a small blue ball, almost inaudible and insignificant.
"Ten... nine... eight..." the voice became more and more monotonous, and then, when there were only three seconds left before the start, I felt a powerful vibration pick me up. The engines turned on.
"Five... four... three... two... one..."
A second of silence.
The rocket shot forward, and the space around me exploded with sound and shaking. I pressed myself into the seat, feeling the pressure build. My whole body tensed, every cell reacting to this power. Power that Earth did not have, but which carried me forward, into the unknown.
"Goodbye, Earth," I whispered, "hello, Space."
The rocket began to rapidly gain altitude, and I felt myself being carried away into the void. The darkness, the stars, the hum of the engines - all of this had now become a part of me.
I continued to fly, feeling the space around me gradually becoming more alien, more boundless. A quiet background wheezed from the speakers, and without thinking, I turned down the volume. All I could hear now was the hum of the engines, which was becoming my constant companion in this space.
The screens flashed numbers and graphs showing the rocket's course. And then, on one of the displays, it appeared - DELIA, the planet seemed so distant and at the same time so inviting. Its surface area was covered in shades of blue and green, like Earth, but with a certain twist, an echo of something older, unknown.
I stared at it, unable to take my eyes off it. Trottelreiner, with his meticulous calculations, had deduced the orbit of this planet with such precision that it seemed to me as if its path had been predicted millennia before us. It was his design, his brilliant idea. And now I, on board a rocket, was only a few hours away from this goal.
The planet slowly grew larger on the screen. And then, above its surface, in orbit, a station appeared - DAMIEN. I had to dock with it. The course appeared on the screen, and I began to watch how our trajectory was corrected, as if reality itself was adjusting to us.
DAMIEN was more than just a station. It was a place where explorers and scientists, and now me, could find answers to questions that had long been unanswered. And now, at this moment, I was going to be a part of it. Docking. All I could do was simply follow the course and hope that the station and I would become one, as planned.
I connected to the DAMIEN communications system and expected to be greeted as an important guest, as a member of the expedition, as someone who had finally reached this historic moment. But instead of hearing a warm human voice, a hoarse metallic sound came through the speakers, and then a robotic voice:
"Welcome to station DAMIEN. Please enter the command to continue docking."
I sat there, stunned. This was not the welcome I had expected. I had expected to be greeted with open arms, as a hero, as someone who had come a long way. But instead, I was met with a soulless machine. I was surprised, but quickly reined in my emotions. This was space, after all, not a warm welcome back on Earth. Perhaps their reserves of humanity had somehow run dry, too.
I typed the command provided for docking and waited for a response. The robot, without further ado, completed its task, checking my data and reported:
"Docking with the orbital platform DAMIEN is confirmed. Please prepare."
It's no surprise that I was greeted not by a living soul, but by a robot. Here, in this cold space, all I could expect was a system, settings, and algorithms. I glanced at the screens again, trying to gather my thoughts. I see the station approaching, everything around me starting to move.
I don't even want to think about what's next. But here I am, almost there. Time to meet what's hidden behind the walls of DAMIEN.