Page 2 of Love Below Zero

2

STARGAZING

JAMES

I fell asleep reading Rebecca Baxter’s book.

Or that’s what I theorised happened. I woke up with the book half obscuring my face. The last thing I remembered before falling asleep was a blond-haired, green-eyed scientist being kicked out of an airlock.

She really should work on her subtlety.

I don’t usually fall asleep while reading. It’s simply a consequence of having to transition to a nocturnal schedule. Most astronomers work normal daylight hours. These days, computers do all of the stargazing for us, and actual telescope time is rare. I am on day four of a six-day research slot at the Optical Ground Station Telescope in Spain, studying real-time movements of near-Earth objects, hence the nocturnal schedule. It’s been four days and I haven’t fully adjusted to being on the night shift yet. Baxter’s books aren’t helping. They keep me up past my “bedtime” and thus I require copious amounts of caffeine to function.

I tumble my way out of bed, into the small bathroom across the hall. Research stations are never pretty. The accommodations are cramped and basic. No one said astronomy was glamorous. I wash my face and brush my teeth before throwing on a pair of trousers and a dark grey sweater. The nights up here got cold, and I want to be prepared.

The sun has just set, but it will be a few more hours until we have to make any adjustments to the telescope.

Julia Lim, or Jules as I like to call her, my research partner and best friend, is waiting for me in the kitchen, a mug of coffee at the ready.

“You are a lifesaver,” I say, greedily grabbing the mug from her outstretched hand.

“Late night?” she asks, one eyebrow raised. “Or should I say late morning?”

I wince as the hot coffee slides down my throat. “I was reading. Couldn’t sleep.”

A smirk creeps over her fine features. Shit. I should have told her I was doing something else. Algebra. Taxes.

“Anything interesting?”

“No, just brushing up on this year’s autumn budget reports.” I am a terrible liar. Julia bursts out laughing. My face heats up.

I’m not trying to hide the fact that I’m reading Baxter’s books. Jules is a big fan of hers. It’s just that I can’t take her needling right now. Ever since our online disagreement and disastrous first meeting, I’ve been avoiding Baxter and any mention of her. Not hard to do since we live completely different lives. I’ve also been very quiet online. I’ve not reviewed her latest release, even though my subscribers, and Jules, have all been clamouring for it.

I recognise that I might have been overly critical in my initial review of her work. I’m a scientist. I look at things from an analytical point of view. Sometimes the finer nuances of human emotion escape me.

I was, for the lack of a more appropriate word, an asshole. I should have known better, yet I continued to dig a hole for myself where Baxter was concerned. I couldn’t help myself around her. Her perspectives are ridiculous and infuriating at times, and before I even know what I’m doing, I’m engaging in a battle of wits.

“You are a terrible liar. I watched you pack her books.” Jules sips on her tea, warm brown eyes gleaming with amusement. I sigh, raking a hand through my already messy hair. If anyone looks like a scientist between the two of us, it’s me with my glasses, preferences for ties, and untameable hair. Jules looks like she walked right off a street in Seoul, always impeccably dressed and prepared for anything.

Our friendship started in our first year at Cambridge. I had even more trouble interacting with people back then, but we were paired together in an ethics class neither of us could stand, and we’ve been inseparable ever since.

“Are we getting a review soon?” she prods, poking my arm with her index finger as I lean against the counter next to her.

“No. I won’t talk about her books again.” I don’t trust myself enough to do that. Rebecca Baxter is trouble, and it’s best if I stay far away from her.

“This could be your chance to be less of an asshole to her. Her new book is fun as hell,” she snickers. “Especially the part where she kills you off.”

I scoff. “There’s no evidence those fictional characters are based on me.”

“Blond hair, green eyes, ridiculous ties and a stick up the butt? Sure, that’s totally not you. ”

“Exactly. I don’t wear ridiculous ties. My ties are stylish.” It’s disturbing how well Baxter sums me up, but I wouldn’t admit that to Jules. In Baxter’s novels she paints me exactly as I am, a stuck-up scientist who can’t express himself in the real world.

I started my YouTube channel for a couple of reasons. The first, because I truly love science fiction. It’s a wonderful way to educate people on actual science, and I wanted to combine my love of the genre with my career as a scientist.

The second reason was to work on my social skills. I have trouble reading people and understanding their intentions. I often come across as rude or snobbish, when in reality I am just trying to puzzle out what to say next in the conversation.

I am painfully aware of my inadequacies, yet I still managed to blunder my review of Baxter’s book by taking things too literally and not reading the subtext. There’s a lesson somewhere in there about never being able to please everyone on the internet.

After our online disagreement, and disastrous panel discussion, I pulled back. My social anxiety skyrocketed, and all the progress I made with my channel and uploading videos vanished overnight. My videos were flooded by comments from the worst people on the internet. First, they heaped criticism onto Rebecca and her books, then, they started criticising me. Nothing was off limits. From comments on my appearance to comments on my review style. It was overwhelming.

The channel was supposed to be a safe and controlled way for me to get over my anxiety. Who would have thought social media is actually detrimental to your health? Certainly not me.

“Besides, Rebecca doesn’t need some random man on the internet pulling her work apart. Yes, that is a direct quote.”

Jules shrugs, finishing her tea and placing the mug in the sink. “You don’t have to pull it apart. You can praise it while still talking about the aspects of the science she got wrong. I told you before, I’ll help with the scripting.”

I really do not deserve Jules. She’s been nothing but supportive of my YouTube channel. Even when her own life fell apart, she was still there for me. Which is why I refuse to use her like that. I don’t want her to do the heavy lifting. I need to do that on my own.

“I appreciate the offer. Let’s get this paper done first, alright?” I finish my coffee as well, quickly washing out both our mugs and placing them on the drying rack.

Jules gives me a look that tells me we’ll be revisiting this conversation, but for now she lets it go as we make our way up to the observatory.

A few other scientists are already seated at various computers around the room. That’s what I like about being an astronomer. No one expects me to make small talk, or even acknowledge, the other people at the research station. We’re here to get a job done, and with actual telescope time being so limited, we don’t have any minutes to waste on pleasantries.

I slide into the chair in front of my workstation, reaching for my glasses. The perils of squinting at a computer for most of my adult life. I don’t mind it though. There’s something comforting about the constants of the universe, and being able to answer questions with logic and rigorous testing. People are difficult, science is easy. If only the laws that governed the universe applied to people, maybe I would be able to make sense of them .

While I wait for the latest orbital movements to load, I click into my email. The one at the top makes me laugh out loud, the sound echoing through the quiet room. Jules rolls her chair over to mine, too nosy for her own good.

“What is it? Aliens?” We both grew up watching too many episodes of Star Trek , and the possibility of other intelligent life in the galaxy has been a topic of many of our conversations. Any time we find something unexplainable in the sky or in our data, we joke about it being aliens. It’s usually equipment failure, or in one particularly embarrassing moment, a smudge on the lens, but we never lose hope.

I shake my head, showing her the email. “Not aliens. But I am going to Mars.”

The European Space Agency, in collaboration with NASA, is proud to announce a series of Mars analog missions to take place in Antarctica.

The first of the missions will start in January 2025 and last four months. The purpose of the mission is to test, among other things, the effects of menu fatigue on the psychological and physiological well-being of our astronauts.

We are also dedicated to bringing in a diverse set of astronauts and testing various new technologies to make space travel possible and accessible for everyone.

The first mission will be commanded by Francis Jeminson, American astronaut and leader of the 100 Years Starship program. Jemison has spent over 150 days in space and holds a degree in Chemical Engineering, Medicine, and African and African-American studies, among others.

Jemison will be joined by a crew of four: James Reid (astronomer), Eli Gallo (geologist), Joanna Hall (engineer), and Rebecca Baxter (media liaison).

Visit www.esa.org/belowzero for live updates on the mission.