With an exhale, Damerae unclipped a lint-free cloth from his desk, snatched it from the air, and wiped his glasses. He preferred staying hidden in his cozy interior office in the bowels of Orbital Counterweight Station of the International Space Elevator. But the imminent lunch meeting with his iron-willed boss Martina was causing him waves of mild nausea.
En route to the Concourse, Damerae traversed a newly refurbished corridor surrounded by glass. Stars twinkling to his left were the realm of his childhood dreams. He'd spent two decades securing a career in the cosmos, having declined many otherwise enticing terrestrial-based professional opportunities.
To his right, a troubled blue sphere, humankind's birthplace, drifted in blackness. Ominous cloud spirals mottled the Earth. His solar plexus burned upon eying a hurricane grazing his hometown, Indianapolis. Damerae thought of his parents, who'd always told him, "Let your own aspirations guide you, not someone else's. Chase the stars, Damerae."
He imagined the storm over Indiana would pass if he stared long enough. Then, a canvasser shoved an "Earth Forever" pamphlet toward him. He’d always refused them, imagining what his parents would say. But what if following his "own aspirations" meant reading the pamphlet? He could argue this in circles.
Damerae grasped the leaflet, perusing it while walking the bustling Concourse. The pamphlet's dribble was familiar. Opportunist space corporations were exploiting climate disaster fears, herding people into space stations, generation ships, and colonies. Meanwhile, Earth provided oxygen, water, food, gravity, and a protective magnetosphere. However ravaged, Earth, not the frigid vacuum of space, remained our choicest habitat.
Damerae lowered the acerbic manifesto to his hip. By nature, human beings explored, discovered, and conquered challenges. He viewed the majestic Concourse of the space station as a testament to human progress. For certain, the rabble-rouser had come up the elevator to belittle those like him who'd chosen bold careers.
Damerae's employer, StarTransit Corporation, headquartered on Counterweight Station, operated the space elevator. Management discouraged reading subversive material, so he scanned for the nearest trash box.
Finding none, he pocketed the flyer.
When Damerae arrived at Looney's Pub, his boss, Martina, was already buckled to her seat. Looney’s pinned placemats featured an illustrated elevator car, a hockey puck with windows ribboned along the curved surface. In the foremost window, a sturdy over-the-shoulder harness secured a smiling boy pointing at the stars.
Damerae’s eyebrows rose.
"I ordered our usuals so we can focus. How much can we increase transit capacity?" Martina asked, wasting no time. Space elevator demand was skyrocketing, placing pressure on all StarTransit employees.
Greater elevator speeds, running more cars, and adding seats hadn’t satisfied corporate management. Larger elevator cars would take too long to design and build. Ergo, they'd fast-tracked a plan to strip out all seating, forcing passengers to stand.
Damerae wanted the elevator to thrive, but he resisted the plan. "It’s complicated," he said.
Martina glared.
"It’s not like riding the subway!" Damerae shrieked.
"It’s math," Martina chided. “How many people can squeeze into a thirty-meter-diameter circle?”
Damerae’s eyes scrunched, dismayed by her superficial view of the problem. He inhaled and replied, "We used a standard population of individuals with varying physical attributes. We took routine motion patterns on the ride from Earth Pacific Station and calculated the root mean square diameter that various passenger loads required before major... injuries occurred."
"Fair."
"But we found a wide two-tailed distribution of potential outcomes. The weather jolts the car. Someone’s unusually large or frail. There's always some likelihood of people being crushed to death."
"I understand statistics," Martina said with a cutting laugh, rolling her hands. Space had inherent dangers, including death. But Martina's dismissiveness irked him.
Damerae elaborated, "With reasonable safety margins, we can increase capacity by 32%."
"Unacceptable! We need double that."
"But we risk fatalities!" The pamphlet was still in Damerae's pocket. Beneath the table, his finger jabbed at it as if scratching an unshakable itch.
"The elevator saves people from dying on Earth. Give me the highest imaginable passenger load. Cram them in until they can barely breathe, and calculate the inflection point where net human survival rates turn positive. Your modeling work will justify our solution." The waiter attached two lunch trays to the table. "This plan will proceed."
Damerae lifted the flap of his entrée's containment lid. The vinegary odor of fish and chips provided a respite from the station’s pervasive irradiated plastic stench.
Martina continued, "You're the number cruncher, Damerae. Leadership makes the tough decisions."
Though the remainder of lunch was small talk, he ruminated over his assignment. Martina’s 'inflection point' wouldn't demonstrate what management wanted to hear. The warming Earth offered hazards, but so did space, not even accounting for a perilous elevator ride. Regardless, was it acceptable to kill ten to save eleven?
After leaving the pub, Damerae observed passersby on the Concourse with their countless clanks of magnetic boots. He imagined himself featured in an academic case study on Science, Business, and Ethics in the 22nd century.
People were journeying throughout the Solar System and beyond. How many were explorers like him, and how many were clinging to industry-promoted suppositions that space was a refuge from Earth's raging storms?
Damerae recalled the illustrated boy beaming at the stars on Looney's placemats. The child's smile felt too familiar. The Concourse window facing Earth revealed Indianapolis under cyclone clouds. Indeed, with every severe weather pattern was another soul's hometown.
Let your own aspirations guide you. It was time to take action with no office to hide in. An hour later, he rode a deserted car back to Earth. Humanity needed his skills in the fight to save the planet.
Earth forever!
Bio:
David Rich writes thought-provoking stories. His work has been featured over the last several years in numerous literary journals. He holds two engineering degrees from MIT and lives in the Boston area with his family.