A Spaceman

Chapter 5--Everything To See Here

I lock the door to my room behind me, forcefully. Finally those blasted security rounds are done and I have a moment of peace. I unbutton my blouse, sighing and turning around to look at the closed door. Locked, closed, I've been so on edge of late. mostly because I'm semi-retarded. that's a true statement, if I were not semi-retarded I would not be in this situation. I turn on my tablet. No new messages. I'm disappointed which is profoundly stupid because there is no reason I would have any considering I haven't sent any. I sink down on my bunk, holding the tablet and accessing the conversation with my daughter. Her last three messages, all of which I left unanswered.

I MADE IT TO OCS CHECKING IN.

ALL IS GOOD HERE WE GET OUR TABLETS EVERY NIGHT TO WRITE HOME JUST WANTED TO LET YOU KNOW. THEY SAID FAMILIES COULD COME TO GRADUATON I CAN SEND YOU THE INFORMATION IF YOU WANTED. IF YOU'RE BUSY I UNDERSTAND.

No, no I'm not busy, sweetheart. I scroll down and look at the picture she sent. In her student's uniform, a hat on, hair pulled back from her face, a sweet, shy smile, and deep pale eyes that don't smile, guarded, lonely, grown up eyes. I should have answered her. it was ridiculous. Of course she would think I'd forgotten about her. but I'm afraid. what if they're monitoring the outgoing messages? Whoever in God's name 'they' are. What if they saw? What if they'd already seen? I'd be court martialed on the spot.

The day before training started, they asked all of us, knowing we might be involved in Project 10, if we had been contacted by any children. and those of who'd participated had to sign off on a form, saying we hadn't been contacted. It would be a breach of ethics for us to participate in this training class if we had family members in it. we would be temporarily re assigned.

But being a brain damaged moron, I lied.

I said she hadn't chosen to contact me. when she had. I wasn't going to. I'd planned on telling the truth, and then just coming to her graduation like you were supposed to. but when it got down to it, I couldn't. I didn't want to wait weeks to see her. I wanted to see her the next day. more than that, I wanted to protect her. I couldn't before, not until now, and she'd reached out, she'd been brave enough to trust me. to reach out and hope that I cared about her, this selfish, miserable excuse for a human being that had sold her into this.

So I couldn't abandon her. when all it took, just a tick of a box, and I got to be here, right here, with her, watching over her every day, making sure none of the others yelled at her too harshly, making sure she never ended up in the brig. Nothing like that. not for her.

In my defense, well there's very little in my defense but the one thing that is there is I'd hoped I had a son. A boy would be all right with all this foolishness. Boys liked things like flying and space and marching around it was good for them. not a girl. A precious little girl who should be protected. She needed me, she needed me to teach her how men should treat her, to protect her, to make sure nobody ever tried to hurt her. it was scientifically proven women develop less muscle mass than men, meaning, they can't defend themselves as well, meaning they need special care. And I'm the one who's supposed to take care of her. forget all this equality nonsense. Girls are sweet and gentle and need to be loved and cared for not shouted at and shoved about.

But now I am afraid. if they find out what I've done I will be out for good, and probably serving time. and I'll have abandoned her again. when I was younger and stupider than I am now, something that doesn't seem possible given my current predicament but apparently it is, back then Project 10 seemed like a good idea. Well, not a good idea, but I'd needed the money. I had a high enough IQ to qualify, and the money, it was good money. I was sixteen years old, waiting for a class in Basic training to open, no job, two younger brothers, and my father was ill, my mother worked off her feet to support us. we could barely afford rent and my father was so ill bills were piling up.