Chapter 1

Countdown

Edward sat in his plastic white chair, staring into a long mirror as he delightfully took bites from his Cocoa Rocket chocolate bar. Cookie crumbs and candy bits collected on his pants, but he didn't seem to notice. All around him the room glowed bright and pale. A sign over the doorway read in large letters:

NO FOOD OR DRINK ALLOWED

Edward glanced at the sign and kept on chewing, reveling in his favorite treat. He looked back at his reflection and saw two tufts of dark hair that wreathed his balding head, and his hazel eyes were like tiny brown marbles pushed into his round plump face. He wondered if he’d showered that morning, or was it the day before? It might have been two days before; but he couldn’t remember, and he didn’t really try.

Edward saw in his reflection that his belly dangled out beneath his ivory shirt and rested on his thighs. The uniform had seemed to get smaller since he wore it last. Chocolate flecks sprinkled all over his shirt and pants, but he didn’t seem to notice. In this quiet moment of private indulgence, he had forgotten all about the reason he was sitting in the Prep Room.

Besides the chair and a small table, the room was mostly empty. The furniture and floors all glimmered under the bright light, and absolutely everything was white—even Edward’s uniform. On the longest wall, a row of six framed photos had been hung; all of them were spaced evenly and neatly with the one beside it. In each picture, a stoic figure posed sternly but heroically. They all cradled a bulbous pearl helmet under their right arm. The frames were all golden metal with nameplates bonded to the bottom of each. Nearby, a red light pulsed on an intercom fixed to the wall.

As Edward slowly and methodically enjoyed every morsel of his chocolate treat, he suddenly remembered his mission. He frequently put it out of his mind entirely, hoping someone might just cancel the whole event. In one scooping motion as if landing a toy airplane, he swung the chocolate bar down through the air and hovered it over the little table in front of him. His eyes panned from left to right and then back at his reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall. He leaned in close to the candy bar and whispered to himself.

“He’s back…ladies and gentlemen,” Edward said. The Cocoa Rocket candy bar was nearly devoured now; only a small nugget of chocolate poked out of its yellow and brown wrapper. He wiggled it in sync with his words like a puppeteer as he continued on.

“Edward is home, and I’m sure you all have a bunch of questions. But he is very tired and very hungry. I know you all want to talk about his mission, but he needs to rest now.” Edward waved his other hand as if pretending to settle a demanding audience and an onslaught of media inquiries. 

“Please calm down everyone!” His eyes narrowed as he searched for the right words. Language was not his greatest strength, but he tried to sound directive and professional. Edward unsheathed the rest of his morsel and held the last bit of chocolate out in front of him.

“Edward will not be taking any questions today. In fact,” he said. He grinned at himself having just thought of something new to say. “He is going to take a vacation now, for at least…a month. And he will be totally not available for questions or interviews or commercials or…anything,” he said flatly.

Despite rehearsing this speech many times before, he had trouble remembering it all now. In this way, he tried to act out the role of a representative addressing the media, but of course, he knew it was all imaginary. He pursed his lips and scanned around the room trying to collect his thoughts. The chocolate pinched between his fingers was melting into a waxy goo.

“So, no one can talk with him today…or tomorrow,” Edward said firmly, sounding more authoritative. “Because as I said…he will be on vacation. You should probably just forget about it for a while. Or maybe someone else who works here can talk to the reporters.” He was sounding more brusque now, and he paused again briefly before blurting out, “Plus, he doesn’t like questions very much. Reporters can be very rude and very nosey,” Edward snickered. He had forgotten the rest of his monologue and was just improvising now.

Edward shifted his plump frame to sit straighter up in his chair. The chocolatey crumbs had now dribbled and stained the front of his entire uniform, but he didn’t seem to notice. After a while, he spoke again. “Thank you all for coming. Edward is very hungry from his long trip. As you know, outer space doesn’t have any buffets…or takeout…or pizza…or anything delicious at all.” He was growing impatient with himself, and the rest of his Cocoa Rocket bar had melted down to its cookie core. He licked the chocolate from his fingertips, meaning to finish up his soliloquy quickly now.

“Okay, seriously, everyone needs to leave,” he paused again and tried to think of how you might remove a room full of reporters and journalists. “In fact, if you don’t all leave right this minute, we’re calling…the cops!” Edward grinned widely and raised the chocolate nub higher into the air, speaking more aggressively. “This is private property! If you do not leave the area immediately, you’re all gonna get arrested!”

Edward chuckled childishly to himself and dropped the rest of the candy bar into his mouth, satisfied with his fantasy press conference. He licked his fingers clean and patted the rest onto his uniform, smearing it brown. Just then the intercom’s red light flickered to green, and a female voice poured out.

“What are you doing in there?”

Edward jolted backward in his chair and dropped the Cocoa Rocket wrapper on the floor. At first, he didn't say a word or move a muscle, but instead sat very still and looked around the room. He was wondering if Mary had just seen his very private moment with the chocolate bar and the make-believe media event. 

He looked towards the ceiling, the corners of the room, and finally at the row of photographs near the door. He squinted suspiciously at the people in the picture frames. For a moment he wondered if someone had put tiny cameras into the eye sockets of the photo's subjects. ‘That’s something those clever scientists would totally do,’ he thought to himself. But he couldn't be certain. He glared suspiciously at them.

“Edward? Are you awake?” The voice came again sounding softer and caring. 

He looked at himself in the mirror again. His belly was still hanging out beneath his shirt and he felt a little ashamed of his appearance; but only very briefly. Feeling less certain that she could see him now, Edward pretended to be waking up; he stretched his arms out, and putting on his best drowsy voice, he feigned a big yawn.

“I—I’m sorry, Mary. I must have nodded off a bit there.” He yawned a second time quite loudly, but it was unnatural and unconvincing.

Mary sighed, “You aren’t eating in there, are you?”

The Cocoa Rocket wrapper was still lying on the floor.

“What? No!” he yelped. “I—I was asleep, like I said,” trying his best to sound persuasive.

“You know if Simon finds out, you’ll be in trouble. You’re not supposed to eat before takeoff,”Mary said. Edward laughed nervously and glanced back up at the red sign by the door.

NO FOOD OR DRINK ALLOWED

“Oh no, Edward…” Mary sighed quietly over the intercom. Her tone was like a Mother talking to a child who she knows is lying.

“I told you before, if you eat before takeoff, you could get sick and make a mess in the capsule. Simon will come by soon to make sure you're ready. If he finds something in there—and I mean anything at all—well, I don’t want to think what he’ll do.”

 In truth, Edward was used to seeing No Food or Drink signs all over the building. After a while, it seemed less like a rule, and more like a loose suggestion. But Mary was right; if Simon had found out that he was eating in there, he might ration Edward’s snacks, or take his comic books away. To Edward, outer space seemed pretty boring, and there wouldn’t be much for him to do floating around a planet with nothing to read and no Cocoa Rocket bars to savor. A deep panic then washed over him and he shot up out of the chair and scanned the area for the yellow wrapper. He spun all around and eventually saw that it was stuck to the bottom of his boot. He reached down to grab it, wiggling his stubby fingers as he stretched. But Edward was a corpulent fellow and more than just a little out of shape. After several moments of grunting and labored breathing, he laid down on the floor, rolled to his side in a fetal position, and crunched and contorted himself to reach his foot. With one final effort and a lick of his lips, he bent his leg upward and peeled the wrapper from his boot. Utterly exhausted and panting from the feat, he sprawled out on his back feeling very pleased with himself. He wiped his glistening face but didn’t notice there was still chocolate on his hand; and a brown streak of melted candy now brandished his forehead.

Despite Edward's theory, there were no cameras inside the room, but Mary knew him well. He snacked on Cocoa Rocket bars in every staff meeting, lunch break, mission briefing, suit fitting, safety test, training session, and every other preparation one must undergo before embarking on their galactic journey. Most of the time, food had to be taken away from Edward, and he was always told to leave his snacks in the cafeteria.

“In the hall,” she started slowly. “there's a trash compactor.” Each time she spoke, the intercom lit up green and clicked back to red when she stopped.

Edward was still laying on the floor, beaming at his candy wrapper. He felt quite proud of himself for collecting it. After a long delay, his eyes moved back to the intercom. He was flummoxed. “Trash…compactor?” He asked aloud.

“Put the food…in the trash compactor,” Mary replied earnestly. “Before Simon finds you.” She knew clear and simple instruction would be necessary to keep Edward focused. She did her best to guess what he might be doing next, and she waited patiently.

“I’ve got it, Mary. I’m going to the hallway now.” He said at last.

Edward rolled over and pulled himself up. He skipped to the door, and his paunch jiggled out from under his tight polyester outfit. As he did, his attention was pulled away toward the photographs on the wall. It troubled him greatly that the scientists might be watching him with their secret cameras. He put his chocolate-smeared face up to the photo nearest to the door, and examined it: the picture was his great-grandfather, Martin Pieman. He inspected the picture’s eyes for camera holes, but he didn’t see anything. Edward always thought his grandfather Martin looked the most unpleasant of the group. If Martin could see his grandson now, he probably wouldn’t be impressed. His eyes seemed to look through Edward in shame. Staring at the photo made Edward uncomfortable, and he shuddered.

Edward craned his neck a bit to glance at the other picture frames on the wall. He finally decided if there were cameras, the scientists probably hadn’t put them in the photographs of these prestigious and important men. He scanned the room for other evidence. In this way, Edward believed himself to be very clever and observant. As he stood there probing the space, a wave of adrenaline and excitement swept over him. He imagined that he was a detective hunting for clues and evidence. He dreamed of busting down the door of the sneaky scientists who’d found him eating there; they were probably holed up in a dark room somewhere with their little televisions spying on him even now. In Edward’s fantasy, he delighted to think what it would feel like to find them and arrest them (if he actually had any authority to do so).

‘I’ll have the last laugh,’ he thought to himself. He grinned with pride and satisfaction. As he immersed himself deeper in his own imagination, Mary’s voice came over the intercom again.

“Edward?” she asked persistently, feeling confident he was still there. She’d never heard the door open or close. “Please focus.” He jumped backward and spun around to face the green-lit intercom.

“Yes,” he yelped. “I’m focused! Thank you very much! Don’t worry, Mary,” he continued on, seeming confident with himself. ”You can count on me. Thank you for checking in on me, but I don’t like the intercom very much. It’s quite frightening to me. It reminds me of telephones with their unexpected ringing and buzzing. It makes me nervous. But thank you for calling.” This was his usual style: prattling on anxiously while trying to remember what he’d forgotten to do, and redirecting the conversation away from his lapse in memory.

“Trash compactor,” she said flatly. “In the hallway. Hurry!”

Edward abandoned his fantasy of being a private detective and opened the door at once. This time he would be sure to rid himself of the candy wrapper. It was in this moment he realized that it was not at all such a bad thing if there were cameras in the room. Mary was looking after him, and he trusted her implicitly.

The hallway was empty and bone white. It was every bit as minimalist and barren as the Prep Room he’d just left. The corridor walls were mostly empty, save for giant blue arrows that glowed on either side and repeated down the hallway out of sight. There were many long ivory cables and pipes that ran the length of the passage, neatly tucked into the corners of the ceiling. Muted sounds of mechanical humming could be heard from all around. There were several other doors and passageways that branched off, but nothing else could be seen.

Edward hugged the wall of the corridor for a moment, believing he could hide from anyone that might see him. After all, this was a highly covert operation now. He looked back at the door to the Prep Room as it slowly shut. After a while, he relaxed and released himself from the wall. He intended to stay focused this time, and he whispered to himself repeatedly as he tiptoed down the hall, “Trash compactor… trash compactor… trash compactor.”

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

As he snuck down the hallway, Edward kept his eyes peeled for Simon. He crouched down ineffectually, stretching his arms out wide, and he tiptoed along. He resembled a large panda bear, wandering around suspiciously in the hall. If someone had found him there, Edward hadn’t bothered working out an explanation for himself. Throwing away trash would be a simple task for someone like you or me; but for Edward, it required his full attention and focus. The thought of being caught by Simon made him most anxious, and as he crept along, he hoped very much he would go unnoticed.

Most of the doors along the passageway were shut, but some were cracked open, though none of them ajar enough for Edward to see into the rooms. He heard muffled typing and talking behind them as he went by. He knew several of the people who worked there, but he talked to them in briefings that he’d been required to attend. It was not uncommon for him to doze off in the back of those meetings, snoring and wheezing while other attendees looked on in exasperation. He always put his head on Mary’s shoulder when he slumbered off; at least until she poked him in his belly with her pen to rouse him. Edward was very fond of Mary, if for no other reason than her unconditional tolerance of him. Everyone else treated him like a nuisance, which in many ways he was.

As Edward searched for the trash compactor, a sudden and deep dread washed over him. He froze in the middle of the hallway.

“Uh, where’s the wrapper?” he whispered to himself.

It seemed Edward had left the offending trash in the Prep Room—or so he believed. Have you ever thought you’d lost your eyeglasses, only to find out they’d been resting on your face all along? In a way, that’s just what happened to poor Edward. In that moment, as he held out his arms like an acrobat, it never occurred to him that he’d been carrying the candy wrapper since he’d left the Prep Room. He spun around and hurried back, trying to remember what he’d done with it along the way.

Double speed Edward went, tracing his steps back down the long hallway, crinkling the candy wrapper in his hand. I’d like to tell you that he stopped himself and realized his error at once. Unfortunately, he made it all the way back to the Prep Room that he’d started in, scanning the space for any sign of the burdensome candy wrapper. Edward was positively indignant now, desperate to free himself from it.

“Mary, I’ve uh…I’ve lost it,” he said out of breath. He looked frantically all around the shiny white floor of the room. But there was no response from the blinking red intercom. Edward sighed frustratingly, and after a while, he seemed to give up finding the wrapper. He threw himself into the pearl white chair he’d sat in earlier, starting to wonder if it might be serendipitous that he’d lost it. After all, if he couldn’t find it, then neither could Simon. He chuckled to himself and looked at his reflection once more in the mirror.

“Well, that’s a blessing in…,” he said to himself confusedly. “A blessing in…what is that word? Blessings are like…that blessing is,” he mumbled to himself, trying to rearrange the words. “Count your blessings!” He couldn’t finish the first idiom, so he thought of another. “Whatever it is, it’s gone now.” Edward smiled at himself satisfactorily. Of course what Edward had meant to say is that a missing candy wrapper he’d intended to secretly dispose of had now seemingly abandoned him, and so the situation had worked itself out; it was a blessing in disguise. Indeed, for a very brief moment, it appeared fortuitous that Edward needn’t worry about concealing the evidence of his infraction in the Prep Room.

Just as he settled back and reclined into his chair, Edward saw in his reflection (after several exhaustive moments catching his breath) the chocolate bar wrapper still crumpled up and poking out of his fist. His eyes widened and his heart began to race. He lunged out of his chair and ran to the door, determined to be rid of the cursed candy wrapper. Under his breath, he said again, “Trash compactor…trash compactor…let’s go!” As he reached for the knob, it seemed to turn on its own, and Edward stepped backwards startled. The door swung open, and Simon walked in.

After all of the trouble Edward had endured, it would be hard not to feel pity for him. Disposing of trash is child’s play for most of us. If such a simple errand can impose so much hardship for a grown man, it boggles the mind to imagine how Edward dresses himself, or bathes himself, or walks to the bus station, or keeps his bedroom tidy. Virtually any ordinary task that you or I take for granted was an extraordinary challenge for him, as I’ve previously alluded to. This story does not delve deep into the routine habits of Edward Pieman, but rather the unexpected and remarkable series of events he found himself in. And all of that began at that very moment with Simon—a man very different from Edward.

Simon was quite small and slender, with bright blue eyes and short blonde hair. He wore a red necktie and a buttoned white shirt tucked into tan colored pants. His trousers always looked neat and pressed with long creases down the front. No one had ever seen Simon wearing anything else. It was possible his entire wardrobe was filled with khaki pants, starched white shirts, and crimson neckties. In fact, he only sported red ties in varied styles and patterns, but never other colors. Edward came to think of them as blood ties. Against the pale backdrop of the room, Simon’s bright tie was curiously imposing for a man so small; and as he entered, Edward stepped backward several paces from the door, almost tripping over himself.

Simon glanced at Edward as he entered the room, gently shut the door behind him, turned around, and put his hands in his pants pockets. He didn’t speak straightaway. He stood there silently; his blue eyes were shifting all around the room, studying the space carefully as if he were inspecting its condition but seeming to take little interest in Edward. He continued this way for an unusual amount of time, and it made Edward quite uneasy. Simon’s confident and shrewd demeanor was intimidating. Edward put his hands behind his back and crumpled up the candy wrapper tightly in his hand. He thought about saying something to cut the silence, and just as he began, Simon locked eyes with him and said, “Feeling nervous, Eddy?”

Edward hated being called Eddy. But right now he was really wishing he’d found the trash compactor in the hallway. But now he felt trapped like a hunted animal. He gulped and shook his head.

“No,” he answered delicately, doing his best to sound confident. “I—I’m ready.”

Edward thought of things to say or ask that might keep the attention off of himself. Simon stared at Edward intensely, and after several moments, he turned away and walked towards the wall of photographs. He examined the portraits with his hands still buried in his pockets as one might admire the work of a fine art gallery. The pictures were nothing new to Simon; he’d studied them hundreds of times before. Each gold-plated frame displayed the surname Pieman, and he knew one day he’d see Edward’s face on the wall, too. 

“I like to imagine if any one of them was here today,” Simon said under his breath, gazing at each portrait. “What do you think they would say, Eddy?” He paused and glanced back at Edward, his brow furled up. “What would they think of you?”

Edward looked down at the floor solemnly. Simon shrugged indifferently. He looked back at the row of pictures and moved towards the last photo on the right, furthest from the door. He crossed his arms and looked up in admiration, tilting his head backward. In the photo, a striking man posed with neatly parted dark hair, thick black eyebrows, and a stalwart expression. His uniform was pure white, and behind him, a backdrop of brilliant stars scattered across an empty space.

“Your Father was a very brave man. He was honored and loved by millions,” said Simon ardently. Edward glanced up at the picture of his Father but kept his head down, and his hands behind him. It was indeed Edward’s Father: George Reginald Pieman.

“All of the men on this wall are here because they selflessly ventured into the unknown,” Simon declared, gesturing at the row of pictures with his hand. “Every Pieman on display here has earned this honor with commitment, strength, and courage. They deserve to be here.”

Simon spun around and faced Edward. Wearing a long scornful glance, he said, “And then there’s you…Edward Geoffrey Pieman. The next in line.”

Edward recoiled as Simon slowly walked towards him. His mind began to fill with images of being tackled by Simon and strangled to death with the blood tie, helpless to stop him. He felt his limbs paralyze, and he wished Mary were there to protect him. He wanted to be back home on his warm sofa with Cocoa Rocket bars, far away from this place—far away from Simon. Anywhere would be better than here in this moment, and as the fear bubbled up inside of him, a deep dread took hold and he shut his eyes tightly; he whimpered to himself and braced for impact.

“It seems bravery is one thing you can’t inherit,” Simon said. Edward’s eyes were still shut, but he could hear how close Simon was now standing to him. After a moment, he hesitantly opened one eye, but his body remained frozen. A pearl of sweat rolled down Edward’s face, and he saw Simon straight in front of him; the blood tie was just an arm’s length away now. To a casual observer, it might seem curious that Edward should fear a man half his size. Though he towered over Simon in height and girth, here and now Edward seemed small, quivering like a child.

“But alas, here we are,” Simon continued. “On the precipice of a new adventure, and the next Pieman in line will embark on this great expedition. It appears we’re left with no other choice but to send you. Eddy…the orphan.”

Edward finally opened both eyes and looked down at Simon. Behind his big blue eyes, Edward sensed a deep madness swelling inside of him, and he knew Simon hated him with every ounce of his being.

“Eddy…the idiot,” Simon said softly under his breath, his face leaning closely to Edward’s. “A fleshy half-wit that’s soiled himself with chocolate sweets—or his own excrement. Neither would surprise me.”

Indeed, the chocolate smudges across Edward's brow were clearly on display, as were the cocoa brown stains on his ivory uniform. A candy wrapper was the least of his concerns now. He looked like he worked at the Cocoa Rocket chocolate factory. He’d utterly failed to conceal the evidence. Simon had sapped any hope of Edward’s snack session going unfound. He felt completely defeated. His arms fell to his sides, and the candy wrapper dropped to the floor.

Simon stared Edward down once more before sauntering back towards the door that he’d entered from. As he did, he paused, took a final look at the row of photographs on the wall and said, “You don’t deserve to be up here. You’re a fat imbecile and an embarrassment to your family name. You’re just the son of a man you could never hope to live up to. I’m grateful your Father didn’t have to see the grotesque man-child that you’ve become.”

Edward’s eyes dropped down, but he felt better knowing that Simon was leaving. He wondered if he would find his stash of Cocoa Rocket bars that Mary had hidden for him on the ship. He felt a little relieved that Simon hadn’t mentioned it, yet.

Simon put his hand on the door handle and glanced once more back at Edward. “Not even Mary can fix a loser like you.” Then his voice changed, and he sounded more professional. “Get ready for launch, Eddy. It’s time to suit up. See you at launch!”

Edward said nothing. He looked on as Simon quietly exited and closed the door behind him, leaving Edward to himself. He sat back in his white chair and let out a deep breath that he’d been holding. He just wanted to be home again reading his comic books and eating Cocoa Rocket bars. He wondered how long he would be gone for, and he realized someone had probably told him, but he’d forgotten. The intercom lit up green, and a voice rang out that wasn’t Mary’s:

“Two hours until launch, Mr. Pieman. Please leave the Prep Room and head down to suit up in the launch capsule. Mary can show you the way. She will be by to collect you.”

The intercom clicked back to red. Edward groaned and slinked back further into his chair. He wished he had something to eat. He considered sneaking down to the cafeteria for a nibble but he felt too miserable to move a muscle. He thought about hiding somewhere on the station. If they couldn’t find him, he wouldn’t have to go anywhere. But he didn’t know any place that wasn’t already occupied. And if Simon found out he was trying to hide, there’s a good chance he really would feel the wrath of the blood tie. His limbs felt leaden and dull. He covered his face and tears rolled down his ruby round cheeks.  [A small round porthole opened in the wall adjacent to the door. Through it, a section of the colossal construction could be seen. It was textured with coiled pipes, wires, and metal plating. Tiny sapphire lights blinked and pulsated all over. From this angle, a segment protruded from the right, concealing inside several floors, including the one Edward was on. Rows of other stacked portholes were inset along the surface.] 

Far down the hallway, a porthole was inset in the wall above a red trash compactor. It was just a metal flap that swung on a hinge above a curved aluminum waste receptacle with the word “TRASH” embossed on the outside. All of it was bolted and welded into the wall. A small woman with long auburn hair looked through the window, and she seemed worried. In that moment, Mary knew Edward had never made it to the trash compacter. As she stared through the porthole out into the sea of stars that enveloped the space station, she wished Edward wasn’t leaving. And she wished she could go with him.