For the past years in the space shuttle program, NASA became idle and had no way to send astronauts into space from Cape Canaveral Air Force Station or other US launch stations. As an alternative, all astronauts had to fly from the remote Baikonur Cosmodrome in Kazakhstan. They hoped they would someday restore their golden age of scientific and technological achievements in space exploration. No one was withholding anyone from dreaming big because dreaming is believing. Thus, from that credence to seeing flights again from their soil, NASA could not believe before their eyes that they would achieve it and make history again.

In 2020, they successfully sent a crew to the International Space Station, celebrating its 51st anniversary, an achievement for the country and everyone who believed in and worked to realize it. Moreover, a few years later, a treaty ended most restrictions of access between ROS and USOS facilities to our fellow cosmonauts or astronauts of the ISS. With this new covenant, our scientists' collective minds and efforts catalyzed further headway in science and technology.

Sadly, the habitable artificial satellite ISS, the most massive human-made infrastructure ever constructed in space, was deteriorating. Some said it would survive at least until 2025 or maybe earlier. The glowing copper flame of the Statue of Liberty's torch was telling the people not to give up. That was why NASA, with such zeal, gathered all the brilliant scientists and engineers to think of possible tweaking to save the celestial structure. Without a doubt, camaraderie gave a beautiful result in realizing its shared vision, and one of them was Atlas V. It ascended smoothly, and it was the first flight after a long hiatus of delays and debate for nine years.

NASA continued to repair and reconstruct the ISS, making it bigger, sturdier, and more functional. In the third quarter of 2029, they added another pressurized module for NASA's advanced technology—the space garbage vehicle. The new module, attached at the Tranquility's last zenith port, served as a cargo bay for the vehicle.

After the unexpected discovery of a dark dwarf planet that had struck the moon into chunks, they knew that one of these days, debris from the collapsed heavenly body would break out over towns or cities, damaging edifices and lives. That was why they developed this space vehicle powered by enhanced photovoltaic cells, compact and long-lasting Lithium-ion batteries, and drove using beam-powered propulsion. Pilots manually maneuvered this ground-breaking space garbage vehicle—a pilot and a flight engineer, the former doing most of the action. The garbage vehicle was as big as a bus and looked like one except for the rubber tires.

Many revolutionary innovations began to clean the space clatter tumbling through low Earth orbit. All of them were efficient in catching small debris. One of those was a spacecraft powered by the Earth's magnetosphere tethered with a giant net to capture space debris designed by Japan. However, the nets were easily raptured when they caught large space debris floating in space, such as old upper-stage rocket parts.

What was more, a few rocks, the size of a van from the collision, were pulled by the Earth's gravity, threatening the poor earthlings. In this kind of threat, the garbage vehicle was to the rescue. It had two long mechanical arms attached on both sides. Found in the ends of the mechanical arms were extendable intelligent fingers that could enwrap the debris securely. The mechanical arms pulled the debris gently; then, one would press a button to open the topside and carefully put it inside the compartment while checking it on a monitor. Then the space vehicle drifted away further from Earth and tossed the debris into the vastness of cosmic space. After a splendid job, the vehicle could dock back to the ISS to its pressurized module for maintenance. But now, there is only one garbage vehicle functioning to clean up space.

———————

The International Space Station was stunning, spreading its improved double-sided solar array wings hovering at 7.66 kilometers per second in low Earth orbit, a lightning-speed journey 250 miles from the ground.

A man in his early forties, Daniel's father, a Mission Specialist assigned to pilot the space garbage vehicle, was peering out by a round window in the Cupola, looking down at the blue planet. I hope that down there, my son has spotted the ISS moving fast like an airplane in the clear sky. I bet he has, he thought, as the ISS hovered over the sallow topography of California.

A fine-looking dark-skinned astronaut in jeans and a sweatshirt hailed him from behind. "Gale!" Vishesh Azad, Gale's pal in college, was also an aerospace engineer. Once more, he called him, "Gale Veneracion!" his Indian accent loomed.

Gale rapidly blinked, clearing the cloud of thoughts and muffling his senses. His head ticked. He pivoted his slender neck to the right and looked over his shoulders.

Vishesh crossed his brawny arms and leaned against a wall. "Please, stuff some food into your stomach," his voice rang with concern, "You've barely eaten for the past three months. I can feel that your heart is aching, longing for something, your family. But up here, we are also a family. So, smile and be a proton. Be positive." He scratched his scalp and looked dumb, failing to cheer him up.

Gale redirected his gaze towards the round glass window. His eyes were fixated on the icy landmasses of northern Canada. He didn't want to utter a single word.

"I can't remember you, smiling after—" his burly friend tied his tongue, being more mindful of his words. He knew the tragic loss of his brilliant friend. Who could not forget the tragic disappearing act? The crumbling of the moon coincided with the death of his babe. Who could courageously dwell on that? Whenever he glared at the skies, he would see the shattered moon, all but chunks of celestial boulders like an odd melancholic sprinkle of crumbs on the heavens.

"We already ate our supper," Vishesh ran his hand over his stubble and continued with his prattle, "The three Chinese cramming in the on-board galley reconstituted our dinner—lemon chicken, brownies, and bananas. If you were there eating with us, you would be in shock because the "fox-eyed triplets" as I called them, were discontented with the food rations, chewing the fat in Mandarin. I never understand any words from them. I often felt they were cursing me with their eccentric grunts and hand gestures," he shrugged. "I do not know. I mean... they know English, right?"

The corners of Gale's mopey lips turned winsome.

Vishesh could see the smile from the reflection of his old pal on the glass window. His charm was working, and so he kept up with the story. "The pretty lady from Korea, Commander Song, eats like a runway model. She only ate bananas and drank pink grapefruit juice. It could be that she is a vegan, but I doubt it since I saw her gobbling the prawns the other day. And she's not talking to me though she can understand English and can speak in it too," he sighed, "Dude, I like her so much, but I feel that she's not interested in me. What is wrong with me? I am attractive, smart, and funny. And damn," he flexed his arms, "Look at my biceps!"

The man by the window chuckled.

"Besides, I think someone else here is a viable candidate to compete with me in awesomeness and pretty looks. I observed that she's checking you out," Vishesh murmured.

Gale propelled himself forward, firmly gripping the corners of several instruments, revealing his unshaven face. "That's enough, Vi. You have convinced me. I will go now to Unity and eat my supper," he cleared his throat, "Thank you."

"No problem. But please, do not call me "Vi." It sounds like a girl's name. Call me with my complete name, Vishesh."

"No, I stick with Vi... because your name sounds like the waves crashing on the shore. Visheshhhh... Visheshhh..." he mimicked the hurling waves of the sea with his deep voice. "Do you hear the similarity?"

"No—and—yes," Vishesh replied, conjuring up an image of a storm surge. "Okay, you win. But you're so corny," he held up his hands, surrendering from the match point, floating sideways, bumping his back on the wall. "This weightlessness is impossible!" he grunted.

Gale wedged himself against the installed pieces of equipment out of the Cupola. The grand seven windows shrunk behind as he pushed himself forward, leaving the observatory. Vishesh caught his green eyes as he glided past him.

"Come on! A tall astronaut with deep amber-flecked emerald eyes. And now, you have grown a beard. How can I beat that?" said Vishesh, annoyed and envious.

Gale heard his friend's annoyance tickling his ears.

"Commander Song will keep an unwavering watchful eye on you, Mission Specialist Veneracion. Sure she will faint!" he shouted as Gale reached Tranquility. "Damn, he turned out to be more handsome than me with that beard," he whispered to himself.

Echoes of indistinct voices were bouncing off the walls of the passive connecting modules as Gale was getting nearer to where the improvised dining table was situated. I am certain that the three Chinese did not leave the place drooling over the meal tray left just for me, he thought.

Gale saw the three Chinese astronauts giggling, pushing each other, and fuming while trying to snatch the chicken and brownies. "Hello, Qiao, Gao, and Zhao," he greeted the astronauts quarreling like small kids floating in the gravityless environment. Their arms and legs were throwing everywhere, kicking faces and pulling necks, higgledy-piggledy knotted around them. "Am I correctly pronouncing your surnames?" he queried.

Their small brawl and wrangle stopped. They cleared their throats, smoothed their wrinkly clothes, shook their hands, and tried to compose themselves. One of them stepped forward and greeted him back. "Good evening, Veneracion," he struggled, speaking in Gale's native language.

"Good evening, Zhao. You are Zhao, right?" Gale asked, forming a furrow on his brow.

"I'm not Zhao. I am Gao," he placed his hand over his chest, "He's Zhao." Gao pointed to the man on his left.

"Hello, I am Zhao," he waved his hand, "He's Qiao." Zhao pointed his index finger to the man on his left.

"I am Qiao. He is Gao," he stretched his left arm forward, "and he is Zhao," he extended his free arm to the man on his left.

Now, Gale was bewildered, scratching the raised mole on the corner of his left eye. Vi is right. The trio is a "fox-eyed triplets." They have the same eyes, medium body build, and hairdo—army cut. And their faces are alike, he thought as he showed his teeth to them, smiling awkwardly.

"Bye," Gao uttered.

Qiao yawned. "We will sleep now. Goodnight."

Zhao pinched his nose. "Enjoy your supper."

"I will. Goodnight, Gao, Qiao, and Zhao," he said their surnames in alphabetical order just to finish the conversation. We've been together for several months now, yet I do not know who is who, he thought.

Gale sat, opened the tray, and picked up the magnetic knife and fork. He cut a piece of chicken and popped it into his mouth. "This is good! The trio can cook food," he said in the air. Gale was about to pop another morsel of chicken when Vishesh materialized from his back and gave him a strong nudge on the shoulder. The push swerved the fork not to his mouth but to his collar. The saucy meat with shredded spring onions smeared his brown polo shirt. "Vi!"

Vishesh found a seat on the other side of the table, propped and crossed his legs on it, and confidently laced his fingers under his nape, cupping his head, relaxed and carefree. "This mission is a long and great deal. I like it here, the silence and solitude. But it feels monotonous as the ISS orbits the Earth sixteen times a day. I miss my dogs," he sighed.

"Just be thankful that they didn't cut the funding to my projects. You are a part of my team, and we needed the money to make the gravity generator work. The people we left behind are dedicated to powering it back in Cape Canaveral's synchrotron collider particle accelerator. Our services in the ISS were the trade-off to have that great sum of green bills," he replied, peeling a banana.

"With your gravity generator, I can tell that it will change the course of space travel and... you will be famous, a celebrated gorgeous man, with your face on each cover of magazines and advertisements. "All that glory," Vishesh rolled his eyes, "Again, how can I beat that?"

"Fame? Glory?" Gale shook his head, uninterested in the two wild and big but dangerous words.

"If only I had an imagination bigger than yours and created that gravity generator and more. I bet everyone will salivate to see my beautiful brain."

"Big beautiful brain, huh?" Gale grinned, lightening up his face. He finished his plate. "I hope they light it up with the right power from the particle accelerator this time. They are trying so hard. Imagine this, standing steadily on a spherical spaceship-like planet wandering the infinite, inky blackness stretching out there, forever," he swayed an arm then opened his fingers, blooming like a Gazania daisy that finally sees the first light.

"That sounds holy, Gale! Many astronauts, even the common people, will enjoy outer space without the dangers of muscular atrophy, weakening of the immune system, osteopenia, and other adverse physiological effects. Someday, humanity will conquer the universe, and this is the first small step for us." Vishesh got startled when Commander Song glided smoothly like a ghost toward the table. She had securely sandwiched a black tablet and a peach water tumbler between her left upper arm and ribs. He immediately put his legs down, lowered his arms, and sat straight.

Commander Song displayed a contagious smile. "It seems you enjoyed your supper, Mr. Veneracion," she slithered her right hand on her khaki cargo shorts to pull out a cylindrical object in her back pocket, "Here... bottled water, freshly recycled."

"Thank you, Commander," Gale caught Vishesh's eyes, looking at his hand, reaching the bottle buzzing with tension.

"Emma," she whispered, looking at his chapped lips.

"What?"

"How many times do I need to tell you, to the whole crew, just to call me by my name," her voice was authoritative but sweet.

Vishesh croaked, "My throat's dry too," he paused; his voice box was barb-wired, "Emma."

She blinked rapidly, flashed her brown irises to his face, and yanked the peach tumbler secured in her armpit. "You can have mine," she said, blushing, trying to avert her eyesight from him.

Vishesh reached out with her lending hand, holding the tumbler's lid. "Thanks," he whispered, blushing, out of breath. "Thank you," he repeated.

Gale twisted the cap, pulled the straw, and sipped the crystal water. Vishesh is so blind. I have seen it differently! He got it all wrong! Emma likes him, not me, he thought, noting the rare moment.

Emma withdrew her focus from Vishesh and bumped back to Gale gently. "I heard you were waiting for updates about your huge project," she grabbed the tablet on her side, "Expect the unexpected. They made it! They made artificial gravity!"

"Really? I'm glad it worked," Gale said. His eyes were misty.

"Congratulations!" she gave the sleek tablet to him, "I downloaded the whole eureka in there. I haven't watched it yet."

Gale tapped it twice, and the video recording played. "Come on, Vi."

Vishesh slipped hurriedly by his side while sipping on Emma's tumbler.

A female voice sprouted. Day 99. Project V-022424. Artificial Gravity Generator. Ready!

"Dr. Ivana Gawthorpe was in charge of testing day number 99! Where is Dr. Irvin Reid?" queried Vishesh.

Particle accelerator. Collision number 303.

A male voice replied. Particle accelerator. Ready!

"That is Dr. Reid," Vishesh uttered.

"Shush—" both synchronously gestured for him to zip his mouth. And then, Emma fixed the sleeves of her raglan shirt, waiting for the spectacle.

Vishesh mouthed, "Okay."

In the video recording, the dodecahedral complex or dodecaplex gravity generator was in the middle inside a spacious station walled with thick fiberglass and was lit with hundreds of lights. The work of a genius, the future instrument in space travel, displayed well its enormous diameter of thirteen feet. The first layer of the geometrically sophisticated gravity generator, the protective shell, was like a beehive, a transparent glass casing interlocked with pentagonal stainless steel braces. Visible through the translucent shell was another dodecaplex globe, a second orb. It was smaller than the first casing orb but more intricate. It floated miraculously unknown to simple people, powered by engineering and physics. The third orb inside was another dodecaplex globe, the size of a water walking ball, looking simpler like a crystal ball and giving off a faint iridescent glow. And at the center, a dark seed the size of a bowling ball was visible, the fourth orb, the heart that gave life to the machine, the part that would create artificial gravity.

In the background were computers, monitors, and other instruments operated by dozens of scientists wearing sunglasses. Thick and thin twisting black and red wires crawled from the foreground linked towards the magnificent orb base, the energy needed to be produced by the particle accelerator.

An inset video of a particle accelerator popped on the lower right corner of the tablet screen.

Powering up. Protons are loaded.

Collision sequence starts in 3, 2, and 1.

Magnets to full field. Resonance is 100 percent.

The beam is stabilizing. Power output increased and adjusted to 3.5 terawatts.

A blinding streak of luminosity was seen in the inset as the hundred white lights on the gravity generator station shut off. Near the south pole of the gravity generator attached to the outermost shell was a small screen, all lit up, running codes and numbers.

Project V-022424 is ready to receive the power load of 3.5 terawatts.

Fire away!

The second orb is turning clockwise gradually.

The third orb is turning counterclockwise increasingly. Iridescent glows, intensifying.

The fourth orb is working well. Humming is getting quieter.

The massive dodecaplex gravity generator lit up the dark station with a different lustrous play of colors. The orbs were spinning on a good axis and were making dizzying illusions of pentagons and splotches on the walls. The illusions were like a newly discovered universe adorned with multi-colored geometric abstractions of galaxies, nebulas, and stars.

Power output 3.5 terawatts noted.

Vibrations? Nothing. Orbs are spinning fast and smooth.

Humming? Not a sound.

Very good.

Project V-022424 is stable and ready for generating artificial gravity.

Authorized personnel to enter the station.

Drop the marbles!

People in white protective suits sprung from the video's foreground. They carried boxes and walked briskly to every side and corner of the station room. The containers were brimming with marbles that littered the tiled floor as they raced for the exit. In their rush, they kicked aside a scattering of marbles, clearing the way.

Marbles are dropped.

Artificial gravity generator testing starts in 3, 2, and 1.

Dial gravity to 0.01 g. Reaction?

Marbles are not moving.

Dial up to 0.05 g. Movement. None.

Dial up to 0.10 g. Any reactions?

Movements are detected.

The marbles floated slowly off the floor, elevating inch by inch in unison. A minute after, the marbles stopped floating, suspended right on the level of the equatorial plane of the gravity generator. Indistinct chatter and astonishment were audible in the background.

Dial up to 0.15 g. Reactions?

Marbles are changing their course.

The noise had gone to silence. Then all of a sudden, all the elevated marbles are drawn towards the gravity generator's equator, attracted like a magnet, wanting to cling and taste its delicious power. A marble band cohered on the orb's outer shell precisely at the equator. Another band of marbles cohered to the first band of marbles, and the cohesion went on, forming a ring like the rings of Saturn and Neptune.

Steady on 0.15 g.

Marbles are compressing, forming a solid ring.

Project V-022424 is working perfectly.

Congratulations!

Hurrahs and whoops crackled in the background. The screen froze and dimmed. Mirrored on the tablet screen was Gale's jumbled face, bewildered, unsure how to react. But his eyes were pink, exhausted from trying to impede the flow of his tears.

"You did it, Gale," Vishesh cheered softly.

Gale only nodded in reply.

"Are you all right?" asked Emma, "I think you are in shock. Better to take a good night's sleep."

"I am just overwhelmed that it worked. I knew it would, but I doubted it and gave up several times."

In his mind, memories flickered ceaselessly, like when his wife was nipping twigs in the garden, the long hours he spent on this project, Daniel fighting like a gladiator, and the baby bump he missed caressing with his warm hands. I am happy it worked. This is mainly for you—lost one, he thought.

"Emma, can I borrow this table? Mine's dead. I forgot to charge it."

"Okay."

Vishesh ran his fingers to wipe his misty eyes discreetly.

"I will send a video down," he smiled, thinking of a place within the ISS where he could be alone with just his thoughts to keep him company, "I'll be in the Cupola for a while."