• Phinneas Fulcrum leaned against the pillar that sustained his spotless glass window, overlooking a plain of green flora, shadowed by clouds that lay hazily over the fields as if they were placed as an afterthought. A single dandelion stood among the tall uncouth grass and lethargic shrubbery that amounted the volume of the acres of park. A short pleasant breeze ensured that a seed fell from the dandelion that gracefully engaged in a dance with the wind, not unlike a snowflake falling from the clouds. A dance that apparated the seed in the peripheral of Phinneas’ observant gaze. I wonder if its mother grieves its loss, or does its mother acknowledge the purpose of the loss, and keeps marching on knowing that its offspring would have to do the same, and it will let the loss take it in stride. No, it cannot think, cannot acknowledge. It doesn’t exist for itself. They say that blowing the dandelion seeds signifies good luck. Would the dandelion be saddened that its sacrifice stands for mere pleasantries. No it exists for us, we exist for ourselves.

    - So what has got you standing all quiet? asked Aaron Apostolatu hailing from the doorframe serving as an entrance to the looking room. Dare I say you are preoccupied with the implications of our trip?

    - No, no. I wouldn’t say the implication, more of the appreciation of our home. That is not an epiphany, or second-guessing of our means, it is an affirmation that we are leaving, replied a mellow Phinneas. I am growing anxious, this anticipation seeps through me in every way I once thought possible. My veins know that I am leaving.

    Aaron bore a face of lingering confusion, unsure of what to make of his friends obtuse tongues. Phinneas’ vigilant gaze lay witness to the transformation of Aaron’s discontent face to that of glee and satisfaction.

    - Oh I see, I see. You are being facetious. My dear old friend, you aren’t dismayed with our haste, you appreciate it, Aaron posed victoriously. I know your type. You had me worried that your discontent would interfere with our ambition.

    - On the contrary my friend. It is I who knows your type. Your flamboyant assurances and cocky swagger does not amount to much. It is merely a clever means of hiding the grievances you so wrongly accused me of having. No my time for that has already passed, Phinneas explained patiently aware of Aaron’s stubbornness and unwavering yield. You are like a brother to me, and I acknowledge that, but I daresay I possess more sentiment than you ever did. You however more than likely take that in your stride.

    - Perhaps, Perhaps. But am I wrong in saying that you voice is accusatory? No you are too saintly for that. All insults must be laced with a philosophical quandary I suppose. Aaron did not look angry. His brow wasn’t furrowed but his cheeks were light in color. Phinneas observed that under the playful mockery in his eyes a smile brew. Phinneas speculated what lay beneath that smile, but game to engage in games of drivel.

    - You think everyone who is partial to philosophy has a hidden confessional beneath every word breathed. Tell me Mr Apostolatu; does my engagement with you on this venture puzzle you? posed Phinneas, Do you forget that is was originally my idea?

    - Assumptions, Assumptions. If assumptuous were a word, you would embody all meaning of it, cried a faux indignant Aaron. Ai gamisou! You’re not listening.

    Phinneas’ neck was arched up at the sky. He was no longer facing Aaron, but rather facing out the open window. There were more clouds occupying the vast blue above them. The sky was magnificent in a grand way, but never a personnel one. Phinneas pondered. Maybe that was why it piqued my curiosity when I was a child. Only birds were given the privilege of dance among the cloud. However, like all things, knowledge had taken the place of curious childhood imagined ingenuity. The instutitutes had long since told them that the skies were not a symbol of freedom, the sky was a cage. An effective umbilical cord. Our tether to the ground. Only the night would show them the true frontier. Space! What an ambiguous term. Only fitting because that is what we always thought of space. What we think of space. Well what else do you call it? What do you call a black vacuum, deceptively sprinkled with life? But no, lightly sprinkled at best. Humans were more efficient with their naiveté. Yet we would have cured it anyways, we pushed ourselves on to the knowledge. We were just discouraged that is all. There is life, something beyond. We just gave up in realizing the vastness of which we are dealing. What we will be dealing.

    - When you are finished with gazing off in space, get some sleep friend, said Aaron whose current position suggested that he was teetering away from the room ever since his conversation with Phinneas was cut short due to an introspective disposition. Well I’ll be anyway, we’ve got a big day ahead of us.

    - Hmm? It is only day, shouldn’t we wait until night? asked Phinneas.

    -Aye, but we will occupy the night soon, might as well savor our preconceived notion of it, said Aaron.

    - Ah Aaron, your idiosyncratic logic never fails to amuse, responded Phinneas kindly. But sleep is meant to provide rest, not in of it itself. Never the less my anticipation will urge me to look through the telescope once more.

    The sky was black, but not completely, as many stars and planets illuminated it, all appearing in a high concentration. But it was perhaps that which caused the means for our journey in the first place. It was deceptive. If we had learned anything it was this: space is big. As a four year old, I was in awe of how great space was. As an idea it is great, and just seeing all the stars and planets occupying that inky blackness there was something mystifying about that. What it infers is that there is another piece to the puzzle that is bigger than our home and us. Where from? That is always the question that follows every answer. We are here. Where from? From the apes in which we came from through natural selection, like all of life. Where from? Broadly the amoebae, from the water. Where from, Where from? With each one it gets more vague. And once we answer life, how do we answer matter? Questions abound. They speculated right to the very origins of the universe. A mere dot of matter that spontaneously exploded, giving birth to all. And what do they expect your kid’s response to that? Easy. Where from?

    - Lets go, lets go. And I believe you claimed you were the impatient one, urged Aaron.

    - To the contrary, I simply thought you claimed we were leaving in the morning, responded Phinneas.

    - I was under the impression it would be more dramatic at night, Aaron justified. We spend so much time stargazing, I thought to myself: My, wouldn’t it be great to watch as we immerge ourselves among the stars.

    - Your logic once again manages to amuse me, stated Phinneas. But I see the string where this is coming from. I believe it was your unique association in your consciousness that allowed us to get to this point.

    - Well, in all truth, I believe it was your ingenuity that allowed us to reach the deporting stage. Aaron replied half in jest but half in sincerity.

    Phinneas and Aaron advanced outside their house and made their way to their land outside. Acres of land, and with every step Phinneas and Aaron took, the more the land around them became more dense with trees, and the higher concentration of trees, the more dense and foreboding each individual tree became. It wasn’t long before they became completely shrouded with trees, the more menacing given the time, which they were walking about the recent forestry. But they walked assuredly, on path in which countless visits made it entirely route. We’re almost there. Phinneas’ increasing apprehension, due to their eerie current exposition, disappeared off his face with a look of pleasant familiarity that reflected satisfaction. They had arrived at a clearing where a tinfoil, but large in scale rocket ship lay. Tall as the trees and painted red, of course. Aaron hurriedly ran up to the rocket and gave it a light slap in loving adoration. Phinneas staid back with a smile, in recognition of their feat. This is a rocket ship. Not a pandering collection of new wave aesthetics, all in mind of technical productivity. Those poor, ignorant fools. Why even a child knew that what the rocket ship looks like is critical to its success. Now what stands before me, is a rocket ship. Not a heartless space shuttle, it doesn’t need additional rockets to make the trip to space viable, it is a rocket. A single cylinder with a cone on top, that doesn’t quite fit, but that is all part of the aesthetic. It has some flaws, rust in some area, the paint job amateurish. The fools at NASA did not understand, pristine is not synonymous with perfect. No wonder they could never build a ship that was capable of leaving the solar system. Our ship will do it; those idiots even forgot to put the tails on their ships. And they called us crazy for thinking we could build a rocket ship, capable of leaving Earth and exploring the worlds above, right here in our backyard. Elowyn had said

    - I can’t believe its true. They says to me that a Harvard boy and a Princeton boy thought they could build a rocket ship in their backyard using nothing but a couple scraps of metal and whatnot. And I think to myself either the Ivy League schools have gotten much more rigorous or their standards have lowered dramatically.

    - We both majored in literary arts madam. Scientists are too stupid to build a real rocket ship, Phinneas replied calmly, consciously trying to avoid over exciting his elderly neighbor.

    - You’re both crazy then, why I remember when the first rocket ship was built. Kennedy said it would go to the moon. Even back then it cost millions of dollars, replied Elowyn grasping the further reaches of her knowledge. I thought it was hogwash back then yet they proved me wrong, but forgive me in saying I’m not expecting you boys to do the same. Why would you even want to reach space, it looked real dreary on my television, and we had color, of course we had many things our neighbors didn’t back then. I thought that streak was long gone, but it appears it isn’t. I still have more common sense than you too.

    And yet the neighbors remained indignant. I have trouble believing they got a hold of Von Schuiterburg, prestigious rocket engineer, just to spite us.

    - You don’t possess the materials, I mean; you are wasting your resources. If you kids are curious, our labs give tours. But at your age to be engaged in such nonsense. It is rather unthinkable. I just don’t even know where you think you can start. I mean first you have to consider the metal, and then measure the density in juxtaposition to… So he spluttered on, incredulous to our invention.

    - All you need is ingenuity and a good eye to make a real rocket ship, Phinneas responded somewhat exacerbated. Every one knows that.

    The fist time they displayed the rocket ship; it wasn’t a ship per se but rather a shuttle. A planet wasn’t the objective, just data for weather patterns. They got it all wrong. Why waste our efforts on Earth. We know Earth. We cannot advance without the ingenuity and good will to do so. Nay, we need to move on, but how did they expect to do so when they cut down the number of buttons, they say the shuttle ran itself. And our taxes were funding these idiotic ventures. Every Man, woman, and child knows a ship needs her pilot.

    - Its time to go old friend, Aaron informed Phinneas.

    - In good time, but we would regret haste, Phinneas told Aaron. We had agreed that this trip is permanent, did we not?

    - Aye, that we did Phinneas.

    - Then wouldn’t we regret acting in haste for something so final? Especially for something as trivial as impatience in face of novelty, explained Phinneas.

    Aaron remained silent in acknowledgment of Phinneas’ wisdom. Forever was a daunting word. Phinneas gazed serenely at his surrounding, aware that this would be the last time he would ever see them. Phinneas had always been blessed with the gift of good eyesight, so when he squinted he found a Dandelion at amuck the tall grass, even in the dark. Why nearly all its seeds are gone, it remains mostly an eyesore. But wait does not the dandelion exist because it looks nice, because it gives us good luck. Why, then, would it still be alive? Does the dandelion ever question why it existed? No, it could not do that. The humans’ inquisitive disposition is a curse than. It would be grand to never have questions that could not be answered. A dog could live life, as life was intended and never have a care in the world. Old dogma, maybe we didn’t name you in irony after all, dear pal. You were blessed with having only sensory impressions. You weren’t given our lust of introspection. You would nuzzle Aaron every time he said dinner, because all you ever knew was food and play and company and love and curiosity.

    But not the curiosity we were cursed with. The lust for answers that we would never have. Now we came up with an answer to the phenomena. We called that the church. The church – the church had answers. But what use were the answers without the questions. Why even if the church managed to stumble upon the answer, we wouldn’t understand it because we don’t have the question. Phinneas halted; he looked at the old measly dandelion. Why the answer is probably staring at us bald faced. And the dandelion had it. But it couldn’t understand it. Maybe or curiosity is not such a curse after all.

    Phinneas took a deep breath. This is it. His head moved slowly, with machine-like precision and a machine’s lack of fluidity and grace. The trees looked positively grand in their professional stature, the birds chirping provided an ambient rhythm to the grace to plants swayed in the wind. A cricket was calling for its mate, a true virtuoso. An owl’s hoot marked the presence of itself swooping overhead. All of them unaware that the home they belonged to was not on Earth. It was to space and her pioneers that mother nature was bore from. It was presumptuous that she was the ultimatum; she was not a product of Immaculate Conception. No, the apotheosis of life cannot be found here, it will be out there.

    - Well are you done with your stipulating farewells? asked Aaron. In case you forget: we have long awaited salutations we had a lifetime to prepare.

    - Fear not Aaron, I am ready to leave as you speak, replied Phinneas.

    - Well come on than, can’t be waiting here all day, said Aaron, increasingly giddy in antics and mannerisms.

    Aaron opened the front hatch for their admittedly shoddy looking rocket, and climbed in. Phinneas followed suit. Inside there lay two rooms, which were difficult to get in and situate one’s self as the rocket lay upright. One room had a couch squeezed in between the wall of the cockpit and the wall separating the “lounge” room from the combustion chambers. Insider the cockpit there were many buttons and gizmos strewn on the dashboard, many of them did not actually serve a purpose other than for show. Aesthetics was one of the single most important factors in a successful rocket ship.

    - Want shotgun? asked Phinneas.

    - How about I drive first, proposed Aaron.

    - Well that sounds just fine.

    - Why? asked Aaron a little suspiciously. Phinneas wouldn’t likely give up the opportunity of driving their rocket, when virgin to the wonderments of space.

    - To be honest I don’t want to be preoccupied the first time. I want to take everything in, and not have this experience bastardized by trivials such as driving.

    - Fair enough, I suppose. But I wonder if you can call it driving, pondered Aaron.

    - In the broadest sense of the term, yes, I believe you can call it driving, Phinneas smiled, remember we don’t have autopilot. Aaron too smiled in recognition to that of which Phinneas was referring. Everyone knows that a rocket can’t fly without a proper pilot.

    - I have to admit though, before we leave. I cannot help but feel like Odysseus leaving for Troy, Aaron confided.

    - I see where you are coming from, dear friend. But I beg you to keep in mind that Odysseus was planning on returning, and a vast majority of the gods weren’t in his favor, responded Phinneas.

    - So you believe the gods have us in their favor? Is not this venture contradicting him?

    - I don’t think so. In fact, much to the contrary: I believe we are the first people to take God’s words seriously enough to bother validating them. We are doing God a favor.

    - This time, Phinneas, it is your logic that amuses me. But alas, I sincerely hope you are right.

    Both Phinneas and Aaron laughed. Our own audacity is what I find amusing. The roar of the ignition, the drone of the fires sprouting from the nozzles quickly rendered their laughter’s volume moot. Looks of incredulity dawned both their faces. And the said it couldn’t be done. I knew it could be done, but still, seeing it actually happen is something different altogether. I feel as though life’s answers are already at my fingertips.

    Phinneas contorted his head out the side window to witness their ascension from the ground. The trees of their backyard were already becoming less visible, their house, and their neighborhood all came into plain view. A minute passed and their town became easily visible, along with the neighboring suburbs. We are leaving the world on a ship that we didn’t spend twenty-five dollars on, built purely on a good eye and a handful of optimistic ingenuity. It is the artists and literary’s who will find the answer to life. The cold hand of science was not given that privilege. That is what the people could never understand.

    Phinneas looked over at his lifelong friend, Aaron Apostolatu, piloting their rocket ship. He’s quiet. I’m glad he shares my sentiments. Talking would ruin this experience. But this is it. This is it. It won’t be long. I wonder though, where shall we go first? Should we visit Mars, or should we just book it to the universe beyond. Well, it matters little I suppose. Though we achieved the means, the ends seem of very little significance now. This is the next big step for humanity. One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind. But we are the ones making the giant leap, so the weight of what this means in conjunction to mankind is immeasurable. Nature did not expect us to reach where we did. We have used its resources to do things not thought possible, until we proved them wrong. But we have outgrown Earth. But to occupy another planet, when our existence is tailor made for the one we live in. It is extraordinary, and shows we have no bounds. Our only parameters will be exceeded. Potential no longer tethered to worries of overpopulation, drained resources, and affecting environment. Excitement flew through Phinneas Fulcrum’s veins. He moved his head from the window, and put his full, undivided attention toward the approaching stars. Well the stars were not getting bigger as they were spreading apart. Years gazing at this attractive wallpaper, we are now about to be engulfed by it. Yes, this is it. We no longer belong to Mother Earth, but we are the mistress to space and its fancies. We are now-

    A loud ringing noise over boar every conception of sound, even though patterns. The crash vibrated through every nut and bolt on their rocket. It shook in the bones of Aaron and Phinneas.

    - Mother Mary! What is the meaning of this, Aaron cried. Phinneas noticed the windows.

    - Look at the windows! They are completely shattered, yet for some reason we can breath, exclaimed Phinneas who was now sweating profusely.

    - My gods! Look, Aaron pointed outside of the very nose of the ship, or at least what once was the nose of the ship. Phinneas looked in horror. Jesus Christ, I cannot, will not…

    The ship had crashed into a wall, a black wall, inferring an impossibly large dome. They were supposed to be leaving earth’s atmosphere. Phinneas looked at Aaron, and they acknowledged each other, with a simple nod. The atmosphere was thin; they were not yet in gravity’s jurisdiction. Phinneas and Aaron opened their doors to their broken contraption and jumped out. They floated haphazardly, slowly back to Earth, and their home. Like snowflakes wistfully falling down to the ground, falling from the heavens above.

    Philip Cheek