Proxima B

Gaia and David met when they were both about twenty-two years old during a mutual friend’s birthday party. They immediately got on well from the first moment they had met. They would never split up. The decision to have one baby only originated from an ancient tradition in David’s family and his wife finally accepted after some afterthoughts; she loved her husband and it was rationality that let her come to this decision.

The family was finally sitting at the country-styled kitchen table. They were all ready to taste a savory pie that Gaia’s hands had prepared with love after reciting a prayer to thank God for their food. When this ceremony was over, the three people began to eat.

“By the end of the month, you will succeed in delivering the building, won’t you?” his wife asked him. David did not hesitate and answered, “We will, darling. Philippe has assured me the plans of the flat are ready next Monday. So we should succeed in delivering the building in time.”

The woman did not say anything else.

“And what about you, little man? Have you cleaned the rabbit cages as you promised,” David asked the boy, who answered, “Of course, dad! When lunchtime is over, I’ll let you see what I’ve done!“

David showed Leo his approval and Leo kept on eating and smiled.

By the time the family had lunch, Leo was already standing; he was waiting with impatience for his father to see the result of the work that he himself had asked him to do. “Come on, Dad! I’m sure you’ll be satisfied!”

Leo could not wait any longer. David was about to stand up when suddenly Gaia stopped them before they could go out.

“David, I’ve received a letter for you this morning. I have leaned it on the piece of furniture at the doorway.”

“It’s the same old letter from IRS,” her husband said finally. He looked almost disappointed.

Leo had already gone out while David stood in front of the piece of furniture that his wife mentioned, the one upon which there was an envelope with two seals that caught his attention. The man grabbed it and began to look at it more carefully. He realized that it was not addressed the person that he had imagined. On the upper right side of the envelope there was the New NASA Corporate logo with its address; on the lower side there was a phrase, “For David Garcia. For the benefit of all!” At that point, David was devoured by curiosity as to the content of that envelope, when his son’s voice interrupted him once again, saying, “Dad! Are you coming, or what?”

David kept on staring at the envelope and tried to get rid of his son quickly.

“Go ahead, son! I’ll come in a minute…”

Leo did not add anything and went ahead, but his expression was unhappy due to what he was just told. Then David opened the envelope and its content was finally revealed. It was an official invitation from the U.S. government and New NASA Corporate to appear before the seat of Washington.

New York.

A man had just left a pub after an entire evening drinking whiskey and scotch. Former American Army corporal Michael Stateman was an excellent pilot on leave in his fifties, his hair was graying and his athletic silhouette was the result of a lot of time spent at the gym; when he was at home alone, he did not hesitate to drink and dwell on his wedding, which broke up due to his impetuous character. His long, dark coat and his typical hat used to protect him from the cold nights (night had come already) while he was going back home. The streetlights were lighting the sidewalk where the ex-corporal was walking. Suddenly he was stopped by an elegant man wearing a gray suit and a black coat who appeared behind a corner.

“Gentlemen!” the mysterious guy said firmly. Michael turned round suddenly when he noticed that he was there, but he did not say anything.

“Michael Stateman, right?”

Michael just nodded. After asking for confirmation about his identity, the man wearing the gray suit delivered him a sealed envelope with two seals: a seal of New NASA Corporate and a seal of the American government.

“This is yours,” he told him and after friendly greetings he got on his black sedan – he sat down in the backseat – and he disappeared just like he had come. Michael was puzzled and at the same time curious to know what that envelope contained. After a few seconds of consideration, he put it through the pocket of his coat and went his way back home.

Once Michael returned to his flat, which was dingy and messy, to say the least, he took his hat and his coat off and threw the door keys in a bowl on a small piece of furniture. That evening he looked more thoughtful than usual, which made him even more eager to drink some whiskey. He recalled the envelope that he was given by the mysterious man wearing the dark suit shortly before and walked towards the coat to grab it. Once he had it in his hands, he looked at it more carefully than he did when he was outside the pub and decided to open it. He pulled the sheet out of the envelope and began to read. He realized that it contained an invitation to appear in Washington or, more precisely, before the seat of New NASA Corporate, but he did not know why. But he was struck by a writing at the bottom of the sheet: For Michael Stateman, for the benefit of all! When Michael took the sheet and put it on the table near the cigarettes and the half-empty glass of whiskey, he noticed that the envelope contained some flight tickets. Departure date: in three days. He, who was perplexed and contemptuous, put everything back in the envelope and let it fall to the floor. Then he lay down on the sofa and tried to sleep. He looked at the ceiling that appeared to be moving to the left and to the right. But he realized that it was the result of one too many glasses of whiskey, or maybe more, and his mind was immediately filled with memories and fragments of a happy past that had abandoned him a long time ago. The memories of his walks by the lake, hand in hand with his wife, filled his head as if a film in black and white were being played out for him. She, who was a gorgeous brown-eyed woman with honey-hued hair, looked at him and smiled as if that moment had to last forever. The air and his lungs were filled with her scent that was like flowers in the desert; he got completely lost in her gaze. Excess alcohol got gradually in his system and Michael gradually closed his eyes; the images in his mind faded gradually and were finally replaced by a deep dark and a regretful heart.

Michael’s night had passed in the blink of an eye. Morning came.

“What time is it?” he wondered. He was stunned by alcohol.

“Fuck! It’s too late!” he said. He stood up in a hurry and tried to get back to his feet. That same morning he would have a job interview. He did not even have time for a shower. But he could not miss his coffee. He poured a little in a cup from the coffee maker in the kitchen and drank it like it was water. Finally, he was ready.

He got to the meeting point, which was the hall of a five-star hotel on Avenue 147, in New York, half an hour later than arranged. The former corporal met Mr. Gale, who was a rich businessman that wanted him to be the pilot of one of his own drones.

“Hello,” Michael started by saying awkwardly; he almost stuttered when he saw the man sitting on a very comfortable and elegant eco-leather armchair in front of him.

“Sorry for coming late. The traffic is terrible in Manhattan,” he added to try to explain. The rich man looked at him for a few seconds, and then he pontificated, “I’m sorry, Mr. Stateman, I won’t stand it. What I stand least is your delay! Without a doubt! How have I become what I am, eh? Being late? This could have been a great opportunity.” Then he cried out, “Goodbye!” he stood up with his co-workers and went away. Finally, Michael was there alone. He was furious with himself.

San Diego, California.

“Open no. 2!”

The woman’s voice who uttered these words resounded through the 60-square meter hall; it was almost muffled by the mask that covered her mouth. Five neon lights were attached to the ceiling, a floor lamp with seven lamps lit a body’s patient who was lying on a table, a row of monitors surrounded the smooth walls around the place, a special machine with mechanic arms moved on the body that was lying on the table directed by a team of surgeons standing at one end of the room, inside a sort of gazebo, behind a desk, they were all busy steering little levers on a keyboard. The place was one of the San Diego Health Sulpizio Cardiovascular center operating theaters, and the hospital was one of the most modern hospitals of the whole California. Doctor Amelia Fisher, who was the chief surgeon of the center, with her team, was carrying out one more robotic heart surgical operation that day.

“Keep on widening. Jenny, keep on widening.”

Jenny Andrew, Amelia’s vice, began to turn some casters in the keyboard in front of her, and some arms of the machine started to move. Amelia was regarded as one of the best surgeons in the State even if she was thirty-eight. She graduated from the USCF School of Medicine of San Francisco with full marks and had always wanted to be a doctor, specifically a heart surgeon, since she was a little more than a girl. His career path was marked by several difficulties, such as her parents’ premature death and the fact she was an only child. However, thanks to the fondness of her friends and her colleagues and her great determination, Amelia had attained her objectives.

“Very good. We can say that’s enough.”

This sentence was uttered every time a surgery went well, like this time. Amelia took off her mask and left the rest of the team work in front of their computers.

“I’m done for today. See you outside,” the doctor said. Then she left the room.

After leaving the operating theater, the woman got ready for communicating the outcome of the operation to the patient’s relatives.

“So, how was it?” the woman’s mother asked the doctor. She was scared and full of anxiety. Amelia leaned a hand on the lady’s shoulder to reassure her.

“Do not worry, your daughter is fine. The operation has been successful.”

After these words, the woman burst out an almost liberating sob, which was the result of the anxiety she had accumulated during the time of operation; she did not give up thanking the doctor; she wanted to hold her tight somehow. Amelia was accustomed to such scenes, but their effect on her was always good and they made her feel good. After all, these situations had contributed to her being a heart surgeon.

“I’ve only done what I had to do. You only have to stay by her side now. And everything will be okay.”

Amelia’s words were always sweet when she talked with the patients’ relatives that she operated, since she knew very well what the loss of someone that is loved meant. After the last goodbye to the woman, Amelia left the room. She was walking through the long corridor to her ward.

“So? How was it?” Thomas asked, stopping her. He was one of his colleagues as well as one of her dearest friends.

“It was more complicated than expected, but in the end we succeeded,” the woman answered. She looked tired but she was satisfied with the results.

“Excellent! You’re coming to Manuel’s party tonight, aren’t you?” the man in a white jacket kept on saying.

“Well… actually, I’m a bit tired. I’d rather stay at home…”

A strange expression entered Thomas’ features. Amelia captured it very soon.

“Listen. I really don’t feel like it. It’s been a rough few days for me. Tell him I’m sorry,” Amelia tried to explain herself.

“Okay. But just know that he will take offense,” Thomas said finally. He had been walking once again. He was walking in the opposite direction to his colleague. So, they went their way.

Once Amelia entered her room, she took off her white coat and arranged it into a locker on her right. After checking her mailbox, she took some sheets and secured them in a folder. She switched the computer on her writing desk off; she took her jacket and her bag from the coat rack and got ready for leaving her room.

She walked through the hallway, took the lift and finally ended up on the ground floor where, after a quick greeting to two receptionists, got ready to pass a special card through the sensor of a picket-shaped metal device just in front of the main exit in the building. Another workday had just passed.