Apollo 11

Apollo Eleven

     They couldn’t figure out a way to get rid of the alcoholics but the dope smokers had been gone years ago. The tobacco users were being phased out and the injured and genetically unfit would go next but that would not happen until corporate paid the right people to convince the others that that was a damn fine idea. So when Roger walked with his tray in one hand and his cane in the other over to the table, he had to steady himself on the edge of the table before he could sit down. Steve, Roger's accomplice, held back in the line behind Herman, the new guy, and kept his eye on Roger while he was making his way to the table.

     The ever leering Roger had made sure there was an empty space at the table while Steve invited, diverted and maneuvered Herman over to the table where Roger sat. The three men sat at the table saying nothing while Roger glanced up at Herman as if he was surprised that the new guy was sitting with them. Roger gestured as if he were about to speak but remained silent long enough as to push a feeling of discomfort across the table. The others in the cafeteria looked on while motioning to one another in voyeuristic excitement as they watched the right of passage unfold before them.

     Now cruelty is in the eyes of the beholder as after pleasantries had been exchanged Roger announced to Herman that the orientation meetings that he had been going to weren’t really meetings, they were simply a way to size you up before your probationary period had expired. Steve chimed in that none of them really went to the real meetings; they were only invited to the fake ones that someone thought might be good for morale.

     Roger, the old master, pulled back a little on Herman and asked him about his family and other things that no one gave one fuck about at the plant, not only to give Herman a breather, but to search for any certain afflictions that he could not openly condemn. Once he was sized up, Roger and Steve let Herman take the floor. 

     In following the tradition of the others, Herman turned to another topic that the three of them could come together on. He picked up Steve’s newspaper and began talking about an article that explained how the Chinese had sent a probe to circle the moon. Roger had let Herman go on and Steve followed his lead. Herman talked about how exciting space travel was and about scientific breakthroughs and that how the international space station had brought nations together and that how the space-shuttle was man’s finest achievement. 

     This went on for a while until Herman ran out of things to say. The table grew silent and Steve looked over to Roger and then over to Herman. He looked at Herman a little longer than was expected then slowly looked back over at Roger, who, with his head down, slowly raised his head and said “So you think the space station is a neat thing?” “Well, I tell you” said Roger, “The space station is our little way of telling the other countries that they are special. It’s our little way of diluting our country and handing over what we have earned to some European Speedo wearing freaks.” Roger breathed deeply and in an agitated tone said “You got that….there too goddamn busy lunging themselves at everyone that they can’t build their own goddamn space station—international my ass—that just means that they are trying to get a free ride--sure we used their Nazi’s….we just knew how to channel their energy….they didn’t know what to do with them and look what happened…..just ask six million Jews what happens when you don’t now how to handle Nazis.” Roger regained his composure and said “Those Euro-trash bastards sent us Nazi’s and you know what we did with them?.....We sent motherfuckers to the moon…..That’s what we did—we took the worst and made the best.”  He paused a moment. "Fuck man" said Roger in a disgusted tone, "we would't know what to do with damn Nazi now days. Shit, maybe send him to a therapist or something like that." Herman and Steve sat still in their chairs as Roger went on “ There was a time there boy before you were even born—Steve and I sat right here where we are sitting now—It was thirty-nine years ago and we strapped three men into a capsule sitting atop a Saturn Five rocket—we shot that that rocket into space. America said fuck you to the world and shot that rocket to the moon—and those men landed on the moon—they planted our fucking flag on the moon—and I’m suppose to get excited that thirty-nine years later  the Chinese are sending a probe to the moon. We haven’t done jack shit in almost forty years but circle protein paste eating PhD’s into low earth orbit doing nothing more than timing how fast semen can enter a uterus in zero gravity and re confirm the uses of Velcro.” “Bullshit” said Roger. “Bullshit on the whole damn thing—that’s the way we used to run this company—by the seat of our pants.” By this time Herman was looking over at Steve hoping for an out but Steve was enjoying the show as Roger went on “That’s how we use to  run this place--we had big burly motherfuckers with oversized hearts and chests bigger than fifty-five gallon drums. They would rip your head off one minute and give you the shirt off of their backs the next. Now all we got is a rainbow of equally represented sensitive managers" Roger thought for a moment "sort of like that space station you admire so much—I mean they tell you what their doing but you really don't know. Do you?" Herman shook his head while Roger continued "Don't forget it. Their leading us straight down the middle and into mediocrity—they're kind and understanding to your face and they will cut your throat out in one of their meetings—one of those real meeting that you will never go to—I'm telling you now Herman—they will cut out your fucking throat in one of their secret meetings and you won’t even know what hit you.”

     Lunch break was over and Herman reported to his afternoon orientation meeting. Roger and Steve sat at the table hoping someone would fuck with them especially since Roger was unstoppable today. No one came and they avoided any real work for the rest of the day.

*    *    *

   
     It was well after midnight when Herman looked closely at his wife to make sure she was fast asleep. He crept down the hall to his son’s room and from the glow of the instruments and night lights; he removed the boy from the Velcro fastened oxygen chamber and carried him to the backyard and held him up high to the moon. The boy gasped, breathed in deep, and gained strength.