Atmosphere(29)

Vanessa looked at Joan. “The mythology always struck me as a little trivial.”

“Oh, no. I disagree. That’s part of what I love about astronomy. When we learn about the constellations, we also learn how earlier generations made sense of the world. The stars are connected to so many other elements of our life. It’s the gray areas that are most fascinating: ‘Is this astronomy or history?’ ‘Is this time or space?’ ”

Vanessa looked back up at the sky. “I can still see it—Hercules. Now that you’ve pointed it out, I can see it so clearly. And then just beyond it is Ursa Major and then Ursa Minor, with Polaris.”

Joan nodded. “That’s what made me fall in love with astronomy as a kid,” she said. “That the night sky is a map, and once you know how to read it, it will always be there. You’ll never be lost.”

Vanessa smiled at her. And it made something in Joan want to keep talking. “I’ve always felt like, when I look at the stars, I am reminded that I am never alone,” she said.

“Really?” Vanessa said. “How?”

“Well, we are the stars,” Joan said. “And the stars are us. Every atom in our bodies was once out there. Was once a part of them. To look at the night sky is to look at parts of who you once were, who you may one day be.” As she said it, Joan could tell how lonely it must sound. To find companionship with the stars. But what she meant was bigger than that.

Being human was such a lonely endeavor. We alone have consciousness; we are the only intelligent life force that we know of in the galaxy. We have no one but one another. Joan was always moved by the fact that everything—all matter on Earth and beyond, up past the atmosphere, going as far as the edges of the universe, as it expands farther and farther away from us—is made from the same elements. We are made of the same things as the stars and the planets. Remembering that connection brought Joan comfort. It also brought her some sense of responsibility. And what was kinship but that? Comfort and responsibility. “It sounds stupid, I know,” she said.

“No,” Vanessa said. “It doesn’t. It’s fascinating. I love hearing why you became an astronomer. I don’t know if I have that clarity.”

“About why you wanted to be a pilot?”

“I mean, what am I doing at NASA? I know they want me because I’m an aeronautical engineer. But that’s my day job. The real me is a pilot. That’s who I am. And they won’t let me fly the shuttle.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do, actually. I got into a fight about it with Antonio when everyone went up in the T-38s for the first time.”

“Oh.”

“They won’t let me get fully checked out in the T-38 because I’m a commercial pilot, not military. So I’ll always be a backseater. And if I can’t fly the T-38, they won’t let me fly the shuttle. I signed up as a mission specialist. I get that. But I did think that it would be open for discussion, at least. That once they saw what I could do, it would be something to work toward. Which was na?ve, in hindsight. They said that they absolutely cannot bend or change the rules.”

“That’s not true,” Joan said.

“What’s not true?”

“They have excused the college-degree requirement for certain members of the military. So why can’t they excuse the military requirement for certain civilians?”

Vanessa looked at her. “I mean, you already know the answer.”

Joan frowned. “Why didn’t you join the military?”

“Women couldn’t join the military as pilots, and now NASA will only take military pilots. Ergo, women can’t be NASA pilots. It’s a nice little work-around they’ve got themselves there. It’s not like I could go to the Naval Academy, like my father did.”

“Your father was in the military?”

“He flew in the Korean War.” Vanessa looked up at the sky. “I think most of my life I’ve been both drawn to and terrified of the idea of being just like him.”

Before Joan could respond, Vanessa said, “Will you show me another one?”

“Of course.” Joan gazed through the scope and set it on the next star, far out along the horizon line. “Do you see Scorpius just with your eye? It looks like, well, a scorpion or maybe a fishhook. Try to find the bright star that has a bit of a reddish hue.”

“I see it—looks a bit like Mars, right?”

“It does. It’s a red giant star, Antares. Ant-Ares. Rival of Ares, the Greek name for Mars. Here, I have it in the viewfinder.”

Vanessa leaned in. “Okay, I see it.”

“Now come look at the sky. It’s low in the distance.”

Vanessa pulled back, Joan now right behind her shoulder. Joan pointed toward Antares and then out. “Antares is in the body of the scorpion, with two stars flanking it. Behind it is the tail. It creates an S shape. But on the other side of Antares are three stars in a line. Those represent the head and the claws. Do you see those?”

“I’m not sure.”

Joan stood closer behind her, trying to align their eyes as much as she could. She pointed again.

“I see them,” Vanessa said. And then she was quiet as she looked further. “I see the whole thing, the whole scorpion now.” And then: “My father died flying an F9F Panther over Sui-ho Dam. I didn’t mention that part.”