Halfway There

If you want to learn the truth, look for the water glasses. If you have noticed them too, my advice
is: turn away right now. Don’t look any closer. Believe the holograms and keep swallowing the
lies.
Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

I had needed investigative supplies. The key to stealing water rations was to insert your
ID card only halfway into the slot. It would deposit one carton, then push it the rest of the way in
for a second.
Bib’s Antique shop in B sector on the 57th platform had a fine amount of glassware to
buy. Mr. Bib had hauled his entire store onto the ship, and the excess product meant I could
purchase my tools for only three wages.
“My merchandise will be worth a fortune on the new planet.” Mr. Bib declared as he
wrapped my glasses in plastic, “Genuine Earth artifacts.”
My obsession with the water glasses began four weeks ago… or maybe five. Time moved
differently aboard the USS Wonder and it was tricky to keep track.
The space shuttle USS Wonder had been humanity’s last hope. Solar storms, rising
temperatures, and nuclear warfare had left our planet a gray, smokey wasteland. The people
became the same. We were a dying breed–and we knew it too.
Then, one day, the brilliant, rich, and devilishly handsome Nicholas Carp declared he had
a way to save us, a place like earth located somewhere in the Wonderlocke star system. An
impossible planet, a better planet, a wonderland.
That was ten years ago now, or maybe eleven. But in ten or eleven years, no one had
noticed the water glasses but me.

“My shift starts in an hour and it’s all the way in sector F.” Miles, my best friend,
complained as I kneeled beside an engine hatch in sector C. The boilers filled the tunnels with
hot, suffocating air, and my sweaty palms slipped around my sack of materials.
“You’re always late, anyway.” I shoved the bag into his arms and prodded the hatch’s
control pad until I found the loose bolt and wiggled it free.
“Vee!” Miles hissed, “What about the watchers?”
 “What are they going to do, ticket me to death?” I pulled the main wire free, and the
hatch shot upwards into the ceiling. “Come on.”
Heat blasted my cheeks. Pipes and control mechanisms jutted from the walls and low
ceilings, but the floor was covered in my experiments: water glasses.
I motioned to the vessels. “Do you see it?”
He gave me a firm slap on the back. “Once again, I go to sleep thinking everything is fine
and by the time I wake up, you’re just a little more crazy. Ouch!” He yelped and rubbed the back
of his head where I had smacked him.
I grabbed the sack, pulling out the water and sloshing it into the chipped wine glass from
Bib’s. “Watch.” I ordered and placed it with the others. It took a moment, but eventually, the
rippling water settled into stillness. “See?” I crouched to peer at the water’s glassy surface. “It’s
not moving.”
“So?”
“The Wonder holds over a hundred-thousand people, it’s unbelievably heavy. It requires
a thrust power of twenty million newtons to even move it a few inches… at least I think it does.”
“You are pretty garbage at math.”
“Rockets require force. A lot of it. Force reverberates, so… why is the water still?”
“Maybe the engines are off?” He speculated.
“They’re always off. The water never moves… yet we do.” I motioned to the small port
window where new stars, different from last week, flickered in the darkness. “But that's only half
of it.”

The elevators were sardines cans, so tightly packed that you could smell what a stranger
had eaten for lunch. People stuffed themselves into the lift, going from deck to deck, living their
lives, and chattering to each other about the new planet. It was all anyone talked about.
“I can’t believe we’re already half-way there!”
“I’m going to build a beachfront property.”
“The new report said the soil is even richer than earth’s!”
A speaker played music overhead, though it was often interrupted by the pleasant voice
of a woman. “Thank you for choosing the USS Wonder to take you to the stars. Today’s
listening is sponsored by Carp Corporations, the hope of a generation. Remember, wonderland
awaits!” The lift finally reached the 35th deck, and the system gave a pleasant ding.
“Floor thirty-five. Sector E.” A mechanical voice droned. “Jupiter Market.”
The main deck was crowded today, filled with make-shift market stands, yelling
barterers, and passengers seeking the best way to spend their wages. Windows on both sides of
the pavilion opened up to the vastness of space. It was the impossible persistence of life, flying
through the stars.
“Sunglasses! Get your UV protection for the new planet while it’s cheap!”
“Strawberry seeds! Perfect for a garden on the new planet!”
Above the market glowed a large hologram of the illustrious and mysterious Captain
Nathanial Carp. No one had seen him in five years. He was a ghost haunting his own ship;
implied, but never actually there.
The hologram tipped his captain's hat and gave a wink, smiling at the passengers below.
“I’m Captain Carp! Welcome aboard the USS Wonder. Be kind to your fellow passengers and
remember, wonderland awaits!”
I noticed the black coverall’d watchmen standing along the edges. They looked alive
enough, but their skin gleamed silver.
Ducking my head, we shoved our way to the market’s center where a run-down help desk
went entirely ignored. I hit the grimy silver button labeled HELP and the flickering hologram of
a red lipped woman appeared behind the desk. “Welcome to the USS Wonder help desk. This
session may be recorded for training purposes. My name is Zena. How can I help you today?”
“I can’t believe it still works!” Miles exclaimed, fiddling with the other buttons, sending
poop emojis flying around her head.
“How long until we reach the Wonderlocke system?” I asked.
“Four.”
Miles froze. “Four, what?”
“Four.” Zena echoed, smiling brightly.
I pulled another glass from the sack and filled it with water, setting it on the desk. “Zena,
why are the engines off?”
Her head clicked to the side. “I’m sorry, I don’t-” The hologram flickered and reset. “I’m
sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” The image shuttered again, then disappeared all together.
 “Do you get it now?” I asked, pulling Miles close. “Something is wrong.”
“It’s weird, Vee. Definitely weird, but I’m late for my shift.” He squeezed my shoulder.
“Don’t do anything crazy until I get back.”
He disappeared into the crowd and something bubbled in my chest, dread or relief I
couldn’t tell. At least Miles didn’t think I was crazy. I turned, intending to head for the elevator,
and ran straight into a hard, black chest.
“YOU HAVE BEEN ACCUSED OF RATION TAMPERING.” The watchman blared,
“STOP AND DECLARE.”
I gave a little laugh, smiling sweetly into the it’s glowing eyes. “This is a
misunderstanding. It’s actually a funny story… you see what happened is-” I threw the cup of
water straight onto his face and ran.
“STOP AND DECLARE.” The watchman blared behind me. Tragically, he appeared to
be waterproof.
I darted down a random hallway towards the heart of the ship, driven by the clang of
pursuing metal feet. I didn’t know what they did to thieves, but I was not interested in finding
out.
I caught my breath in the safety of a vent inlet. I listened, but heard nothing besides the
whistling of air. Maybe I’d- There was a hiss, and I looked up just in time to see fog spew from
the vent and send me spiraling into darkness.

My first awareness was of Bon Jovi. Miles had a collection of vintage CDs and this song
was one of his favorites.
“Ohh, we’re halfway there. Ohhh! Livin’ on a prayer!”
I woke in a barren, white room, slumped in a chair. I turned toward the music to see a set
of towering red doors labeled, COCKPIT.
A voice buzzed overhead as the red doors slid open. “Don’t be shy. Come in.”
The room was a small half circle; the walls made entirely of glass. Outside, outer space
stood vast and dark, but it was obscured by a thousand handwritten equations, all scribbled and
crossed out with the same white marker. A leather chair stood at the center, the distinct blue and
gold captain’s hat peaked up over the back.
“Who are you?”
 There was a painful screeching as the chair swiveled to reveal the oldest man I had ever
seen. He was rail thin, and a clear tube of oxygen ran under his lumpy nose. He had a snowy
beard that would have reached the floor if he had stood, which I doubted he could.
“I’m the Captain.” He smiled, letting out a gravely chuckle.
“You’re Nicholas Carp?” I gaped, thinking of the handsome winking hologram. “You’re
like a hundred years old!”
“Actually, I’m a hundred and twenty.”
“I don’t understand…”
Carp raised a trembling finger, and a hologram flared to life: it was me, placing the water
glass in the market. “You figured it out.” His face crumpled. “I am so very sorry.” He moaned.
“The engines are off, but we’re moving.” I finally said.
He nodded. “The data from Wonderlocke was a miracle. Earth was dying–we were dying.
The USS Wonder was supposed to save us, but I didn’t know until it was too late.” His eyes
begged for forgiveness. “There was no planet near Wonderlocke. There wasn’t anything… black
holes have been known to corrupt data.”
The engines were off, but we were moving… oh god. “So, what now?” I asked,
desperation creeping in. “You’re Nathanial Carp, you're practically a god. What do we do now?”
“Now, we float slowly to our deaths. The same thing we’ve done for the past sixty
years.”
I froze. “You mean ten.”
“Time moves quicker on the shuttle life support system. It’s in the vents, intended to keep
people happy for the long journey. You hardly age, but it messes with your mind, makes you
forget.” He gave a sad wink. “That’s why the Captain’s quarters don’t have it. No drunk
driving.”
Time was tricky aboard the USS Wonder.
Something trickled down my cheek. “You have to tell them!” I realized, slowly coming
awake. “The new planet is all they talk about!”
He pressed another button and security feeds flickered behind him, live footage of
people–the impossible persistence of life, flying among the stars. “I tried, I really did. But this:
their hope, their lives… this is all I can give them now.”
“It’s limbo… always waiting, always thinking they’re halfway there. It’s a lie.”
 “Sometimes lies are a kindness.” He motioned to the control system where a big red
button blinked beside a microphone. “But go ahead, I won't stop you. I give you my burden
without protest.”
Ears ringing, I walked towards the controls. I hovered my trembling fingers over the
button. One push, four words. That is all it would take to ruin the lives of a hundred thousand
people–to ruin wonderland.
One push, four words: there is no planet. There is no hope.

That was three weeks ago.

I don’t go to the button every day, but I go most. I hold my hand over the mechanism as
Carp wheezes stories about earth. Sometimes we watch the security cameras together, but he
sleeps most of the day now.
I avoid Miles. He interrogates me about the water glasses. I love him, so I will lie. Lies
can be a kindness.
I wonder what we did to deserve this fate. I wonder if the burning, gray earth would have been
kinder. And, selfish and scared, I wonder what it would be like to make this burden lighter.