Sex on the Moon (13 page)

Aside from television and movies, very few people ever got to see an EMU in action, and here Thad had a front-row seat. It was a spectacular, frozen moment in time, and he wished he could have hung there forever, upside down in the blue vastness, lost in his own mind, his fantasies. Because in his fantasies it was him in that EMU, staring out through that gold-tinged visor, stepping forward through the shuttle cargo door into the nothingness of space. It was him in the astronaut suit, beginning a space walk a few hundred thousand miles above the Earth, working his way toward the International Space Station, joining the ranks of the heroic men and women who had ventured into space with the whole world watching. It was him—not a poor Mormon reject turned out of his home by his own parents, in a rapidly failing relationship, a pretender in a personality and a place he didn’t really belong—a real live astronaut about to do something dangerous and meaningful, to make his mark on the world. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, a voice reverberated through him, bringing him back to himself, hanging upside down in the infinite blue.

“Shuttle Commander, this is mission control. Proceed with EVA. Delta Alpha, on our command.”

Thad shivered as the words moved through his skull. It was an odd feeling, sound translated directly through bone, as if the words were coming from inside his body instead of from the cheek transmitter that extended out from his face mask. The bone conductor was another cool NASA toy, and even though Thad could only receive sound and not respond, it added a whole new level of sci-fi to the moment he was viewing.

“Affirmative, MC. On your mark.”

The response was slightly accented, maybe Texas or Louisiana, but still Thad couldn’t quite place the voice. He didn’t know the astronaut stepping out of the shuttle bay door personally, but if he got close enough he was sure he could identify the man through his helmet. That thought alone was thrilling enough; even though he was one week into his third and final tour, Thad hadn’t yet met enough astronauts to make them any less godlike to him. And now, watching one in an EMU, in full action, it was no wonder, because they truly did seem like gods. He wished he could say something, that the bone conductor transmitter worked both ways, that he wasn’t just a voiceless observer. But then again, what would he say? Despite his fantasies, he was just a co-op.

“And go.”

There was only a brief pause, and then the space-suited figure launched himself forward off the bay door. His bulbous suit floated forward at about twice the speed Thad had originally launched himself off the space station. It was spectacular to watch. And it wasn’t a dream, it wasn’t a fantasy—but then again, it wasn’t exactly
real
either.

“Roberts”—a different voice suddenly broke through Thad’s bone conductor—“nice job attaching the strobe camera to the station hull. Go ahead and break surface. Doc will check you out, and you can hit the showers.”

Thad sighed, took one last look at the astronaut in the EMU—then spun himself around and kicked off with his rubber flippers. He wriggled upward, feeling the cool blue water rushing against his rubber wet suit. Even though he was breathing nitrox and not regular compressed air, he still had to be careful not to rise too fast. The nitrox—a mix regulated to control the nitrogen uptake into his body to extend his dive time—would offer some protection, but there was always the risk of the bends. He had been down for a long time, getting the camera affixed to the station hull just right so Mission Control could photograph the simulated space walk; it had been painstaking work, made all the more difficult by the near-zero-gravity atmosphere at that depth, and even with the flashlight attached to his breathing mask, it had been hard to see because of the strangely, and overwhelmingly, blue nature of the deep-water surroundings.

Thad was pretty well exhausted, but still he moved with the precise control of an expert diver, rising foot by foot with the slightest effort from his legs and fins; finally, his head burst out through the surface of the water, the blue vanishing from his eyes in a blast of bright fluorescent lighting. It took him another few minutes to swim the twenty yards to where Brian Helms was standing, looking down with a grin of approval on his face. Brian’s own wet suit was unzipped, hanging down around his waist, revealing a bare chest that was almost as many bony angles as his triangular face. Like Thad, still in the water, Brian was breathing hard. He had only just climbed out of the pool himself, moments ago.

To Thad, calling it a “pool” was more than an understatement: the Neutral Buoyancy Lab—the NBL—was simply massive, and one of the most impressive facilities at NASA—though it wasn’t located on the JSC campus, instead being housed in the ultrasecure Sonny Carter building, a ten-minute drive through Clear Lake from the main campus. The NBL was the largest indoor pool of water on Earth. Two hundred and two feet in length, 102 feet wide, 40.5 feet deep, it contained over six million gallons of water. It was the premier astronaut training environment in existence.

As Thad looked back across the vast expanse of water, it was almost hard to believe that deep below, where he had just been, there was a full mock-up of the International Space Station, the space shuttle cargo bay, and even the Hubble Telescope. The only clues to what lay below were the enormous, bright yellow mechanical cranes that hung down into the water, which were used to reposition the mock-ups for different projects and training programs. Even though Thad had been working in the NBL for six days now, he was still in awe of the facility. When he had first come to NASA, he had read about the NBL, but seeing it in person was a truly humbling experience. Because in many ways, like the Space Shuttle Simulator he had snuck into during his first week, this was as close to space as a nonastronaut could get.

Deep in the pool, astronauts could practice space walks—as Thad had just witnessed—as well as work within the space station and shuttle in a neutrally buoyant atmosphere. The EMUs protected the astronauts from the water as well as the pressure, and with the help of divers to keep them properly buoyant, they got a pretty good approximation of the real sensations of living and working in zero g. Underneath the EMUs, the astronauts wore long johns and a body diaper, as well as the liquid cooling and heating tubing that kept them at the proper temperatures. Gloves, regulators and fans, helmet coms—the EMU contained everything the astronaut would be using in a real space walk, kept at a perfect internal pressure of 4.3 psi. Dressed like that, an astronaut could live in the suit for almost nine hours, and though the experience was slightly altered for the underwater environment, the concept was strikingly similar. Any mission that took place in space began here, and now Thad was part of all that, working on projects that would one day be replicated in outer space.

Thad found himself grinning just like Brian as he pulled himself out of the pool and onto the wide, grated metal deck of the NBL. His body felt strained, and he could hear his heart pounding in his chest. He had been down a little longer than he had realized. Because of the nitrox, it was unlikely he would get the bends, but even so, after the dive doctor checked him out and sent him to the showers, he’d have to wait around for a couple of extra hours and be rechecked to make sure the time under water hadn’t done any damage. But truly, he didn’t care about the minute physical risks of being a dive assistant at the NBL; he wouldn’t have traded the position for anything. It was the plum co-op job, the most-sought-after posting in the co-op program. The fact that he was there, on the NBL deck—and that Brian was with him—was pure luck. Or really, more timing than luck—like a lot of things in Thad’s life, it was about being in the right place—and knowing how to take advantage of an opportunity.

…

After two tours spent in the life sciences department, Thad had been looking to do something different, something more active, something where he could take advantage of his unique skill sets to further impress the NASA brass. So when he’d heard about the NBL position opening up, he had been instantly intrigued. That Brian—who had decided to return to NASA for an unusual fourth tour at the behest of his mother—was interested in the position only added to the spirit of the competition. Usually, there was a two-year waiting list for NBL jobs, and no doubt there would be dozens of applicants aiming for the same spot.

The week before Thad was supposed to go for his interview, he was stepping out of his usual Tuesday-night volunteer firefighter meeting—Wednesdays were sailing; Thursdays, rock climbing—when he noticed something on the sidewalk in front of him. A wallet, obviously dropped by someone by mistake. Inside the wallet was an ID with a picture that Thad vaguely recognized from previous firefighter nights—but not someone he knew by name. There was also a NASA ID—so as soon as Thad returned home, he looked the guy up in the NASA directory and made the call. Getting an answering machine, he had left a simple message.

An hour later, the man called back, thrilled that Thad had found his wallet. He had already canceled his credit cards and was working on getting a new NASA ID, but Thad still volunteered to drop the wallet by wherever the man worked. Instead, the man scheduled a time to swing by Thad’s lab in Building 31 the next day.

When he pulled up in a little red convertible sports car at the prescribed time, Thad was surprised at how appreciative and thankful the man appeared to be; Thad hadn’t done anything anyone else wouldn’t have. But in any event, by the end of that day Thad had forgotten about the exchange. In fact, he didn’t even remember the man’s name.

A week later, he and Brian did their best to remain optimistic as they carpooled the short ten-minute drive over to the Sonny Carter Training Facility for their NBL interviews. They were both excited just to see the building, as it was one of the highlights of the institution, and neither one of them had clearance to get inside without an escort. They didn’t think they’d actually get a chance to walk on the deck of the great pool itself, but just being in the same building where the astronauts trained underwater would be an amazing experience.

When they stepped inside the building, they were directed to a small waiting area, just outside the heavy doors that led into the main part of the facility. Not surprisingly, Brian was the first one ushered down the hall toward the administration offices. There was no doubt, now, that his mother had made a phone call at some point down the line. Thad didn’t begrudge his friend his connections; if Thad had been lucky enough to have been born to a NASA engineer, he would have carried the man or woman’s picture in his pocket everywhere he went.

Twenty minutes later, Brian made his way back into the waiting area—a huge smile on his face.

“Turns out we went to the same college,” he said, barely containing his joy. “So we had a lot to talk about. I think I’m in.”

Thad gave him a high five; he was genuinely happy for his friend, not just because he liked and respected Brian, but because if Brian got clearance to the NBL, maybe he’d be able to bring Thad inside along with him, every now and then.

It was another twenty minutes before Thad got called for his own interview. Brian wished him luck, and then Thad was moving quickly down the hall that led to the administrator’s offices. The designated room was at the end, the door already open. He stopped in the doorway, peering into what looked like a huge space with an oversized wooden desk in one corner. There was a man sitting at the desk, back to the door, typing away at a computer. Thad immediately got the impression that this man had already made his decision. He certainly didn’t seem eager to meet another co-op.

But when the man finally turned around, Thad was in for a shock. The guy was grinning just like he’d been a week earlier, when Thad had returned the lost wallet to him. The man’s name was Mike, and it was just one of those crazy coincidences in life; Mike was one of the NBL’s project managers, and he had been given the task of hiring the new co-op for the dive assistant position.

“We can end the suspense right now,” he said, “because you’ve got the job. You, and your buddy out there; I’ll have to shuffle a few things, but we can certainly make room for two. But we’ve got to sit here for at least fifteen minutes and make it look like we’re doing an interview so I don’t get in any trouble.”

And for the next fifteen minutes they chatted, mostly about the NBL and how Thad would have to get recertified in scuba to NASA’s exacting standards. Thad wasn’t worried about any testing; he had yet to fail at anything he’d gone after.

…

“I don’t care how cool that monster of a swimming pool is,” Brian shouted over the sound of the space-age shower jets that were pummeling him from every angle. “The thing that really blows my mind is the goddamn towels.”

Thad grinned, raising his face to let one of his own shower nozzles go to work on his neck and upper chest. The tension was bleeding right out of him as the superheated jets of water cycled from soft to hard in a prearranged massaging program. The astronaut shower room was totally a scene right out of
The Jetsons
. The shower cubicles themselves were single-unit pods formed out of some seamless, space-age material. The electronic control panels affixed to the smooth interior walls were incredibly complex, offering control of the water temperature as well as the nozzle pressure. Thad was amazed at how extreme on either end the temperature and pressure could get; you could almost burn the flesh from your bones if you wanted. And since he had plenty of time to kill, waiting for the dive doctor to release him from the facility, Thad liked to set up massage routines that utilized a really wide range of pressures and temperatures. The controls also allowed him to choose the type of shampoo and conditioner he wanted to squirt out of the dispenser knobs attached to the ceiling. It was not unusual for a dive assistant’s shower to last half an hour, or more.

And when Thad stepped out of the shower—that’s when the mystery set in. Like clockwork, a steaming hot towel would appear out of the wall in front of him. Both Thad and his friend had spent hours searching for the sensors that told the computer it was time for the towel—to no avail.