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Finding reprieve in the stars takes a special type of soul, where one listens to the silence and finds meaning in the vast unknown. Up there, everything seems so miniscule in comparison, swallowed by the dark, and left in awe about the vibrancy of possibilities of the world beyond their scope. Many wonder about the open ends of space, where humanity’s next flight will take them, if the stars’ messages promise them hope for the future.
It is up to her to make it possible.
NASA has made it her mission to reach the stars once more, and she is not going to back down no matter the obstacles that stand in her way. The Artemis Program and all its wants and dreams will be a success, she knows it.
She knows it is a rare thing to be this independent government agency, to be without direct ruling from the executive departments or the office itself; it is exactly why she must take all the advantage she can. It’s difficult when the budget cuts tend to affect her and her work depending on the allocations and the whims of the President, but she does what she can. She is for the stars, and thus, she will make it work.
Departments, executive offices, federal judiciaries, and all other federal bodies tend to fall in line more or less. Being under the direct jurisdiction of the government has its downsides, and the tighter leash is the consequence for having a bigger share of the pie. She is not exactly envious when she looks at the Department of Justice and the work left in store—this political climate is not kind for anyone.
Looking down at her phone, she wonders how long it would take for someone to show up for a simple coffee shop meetup. She hadn’t been waiting that long, she’ll have to say, but ten minutes past their waiting point makes for a poor showing. Then again, time mattered a lot in her world. Maybe she’s being a bit too harsh? Time also matters for geography and ecology.
“Sorry I’m late!” NASA blinks, looking up to find her friend hastily slipping into his seat, out of breath, the satchel slung around his shoulders half-open and stuffed with papers. “Had to get one last recording down before running over.”
NASA sighs, fond over exasperated. “What kind of storm system formed now?”
NOAA grins sheepishly, removing his satchel to place it on the empty space next to him. Lucky for them to get a rather pristine booth. “Just a tropical depression, but I have a feeling this might turn into a tropical storm in the next few hours.”
“Are you going to flag it?”
“Obviously. It might head towards the Lesser Antilles if it keeps up. Anyways, I’ve heard the news, but how’s the Artemis Program coming along?” NOAA holds her gaze as he asks the question, clearly intent in hearing out an answer. NASA can’t help but smile, however wryly it comes off.
“The goal is set. The Moon is in sight. All that’s left to do is to turn a mess of a budget and all its setbacks into the future we’ve once dreamed of.” NASA knows she’s being intentionally vague here, her words ultimately meaning nothing at all, though wrapped in a scientist’s optimism. Against all odds, however, there is hope. “We are doing all we can. The lunar landing itself may have been pushed back to 2028, but with the additional planning and ongoing work to reconfigure things around, I’m hoping things will be far smoother. Our astronauts will experience flight once more. I can’t fail. Not in this new space either.”
NOAA smiles then, more real than all the nervous grins he’s been shooting at her all this time. He pushes his glasses up, clearing his throat. “I know you’ll do well.”
“Hello, I see your companion showed up in time!” A waiter appears then, a welcoming demeanour plastered on that plainly tells of a long lunch rush. It’s a good thing they decided to meet around the tailend of the crowds, to actually get the chance to relax. “What can I get you today?”
NASA ignores the vexed look NOAA sent her way. Of course she had to hold up from being asked to order, did he think that a waiter wouldn’t ask for an order in the meantime?
It takes some quick perusal but they end up ordering their favoured dishes. Salmon bowl for NOAA, while NASA takes up a plate of Fettuccine Alfredo.
“I have to ask, what have you been up to in your free time lately? It’s been a while since we discussed anything that isn’t in a professional capacity,” NOAA asks after a while.
NASA pauses, letting her fingers drum idly on the table in the meantime. Truth be told, she isn’t exactly sure how to answer the question. Perhaps a few years ago, she would have an answer, something definitive, something about being able to crochet patterns both simple and complex. Maybe mention the few artistic endeavours she took to capture the splendor of space. Nowadays, she has placed most hobbies onto the backburner, letting the essence of her work consume her, the Artemis missions too important to let go.
What exactly does she do when she goes home? She doesn’t know how to answer that.
“I don’t know,” she confesses, “I just kind of scroll on my phone on social media, answer emails. I guess journaling, since I detail events of my day and keep any trinkets I find interesting. Though, the things I say are rather confidential material and just revolve around my work in the end.”
Honestly, what else can she do? There’s just too much to do. Tight deadlines and ensuring her astronauts are safe are too important. If she could relax by being efficient, then she’s okay. She’ll be fine.
NOAA nods, eyebrows lowering slightly. “It counts. But I say you probably need a hobby to get back into, like your crochet pieces and paintings that you have scattered around your house.”
NASA tilts her head. “You remember those?”
“How could I not? I remember showing up to your house and you were just cooped up in your own world. You had a wall of oil paints and yarn surrounding you on all sides. Your works were beautiful and you gave them some to me for display.” NOAA reminisces, fondness seeping into his words. Then he shifts, staring straight into her gaze; a demand to be listened to. “Please, for the sake of your energy, you must learn the work-life balance again.”
With that sort of plea, who is she to refuse?
“Hah, alright. Then, what have you been up to then?” NASA circles the conversation now, doubling back to hear her friend. NOAA lights up now, clearly happy to report on his little hobbies to keep him sane. Collecting Pokémon cards for one thing, listening to podcasts, watching fun videos. It seems that he is more grounded than she is.
He’s adamant in also keeping himself updated by reaching out with other similar agencies and organisations in the world that share his mission of weather prediction and ecosystem conservation. Says that teamwork is always the answer and that humanity needs to take a stand together. “Besides, I also get to see cute pictures of orcas and whatever.”
NASA huffs, soft but sweet. “That’s the real reason why you like doing your work, you mean. Cute pictures of marine life. And here I thought you strived for innovation and integrity.”
“Well, of course, but I also practice work-life balance. I enjoy photography myself, thank you very much. Why do you think I have an endless supply of weather photos and landscapes?” NASA has seen it herself, during one innocuous exchange of pictures of their work. Hurricanes, dolphin pods, the expanse of blue that seeks for the horizon, the moment lightning punishes the earth.
All beautiful.
“You seem to give the most to me, sometimes,” she murmurs.
“Yeah, well, you’re just as interested in it as I am.” NOAA says, waving it off. She does not remind him of the way Smithsonian, USGS, and others are equally interested in the same projects as they both are. He might just reply with something equally as dumb.
Fortunately for them, their food had arrived at that point. Dishes served warm, and a pleasant silence envelops them both as they dig into their late lunches, a cheers to their dwindling spare time. As time passes, and with NASA’s base urges satiated, her thoughts drift and eventually latch onto a new topic.
“Have you ever felt that our missions here will never be fulfilled?” NASA asks. Her thoughts had rounded back to something he mentioned—their mission.
NOAA’s mission is secure. Understand and predict changes in climate, weather, ocean and coasts. Share that knowledge and information with others. Conserve and manage coastal and marine ecosystems and resources.
Her mission is to unlock the secrets of the universe. To push through the limits of their understanding, to fight through the laws of physics itself to know what lies in the depths of their cosmic backyard. And, with the state of the world and their current economics—can she keep this up? Can everyone forge ahead and be willing to bet on science and innovation when everything threatens to take it away from them?
“What makes you say that?” NOAA drawls at the end, watching her movements.
“Call it muses of the mind.” She dismisses, tilting her head to the side. “You have to admit, it’s difficult sometimes.”
A few seconds pass; it seems that he also needs to gather his words. “... yes. However, if this is about any doubts then, let me tell you that they are unfounded. You are getting humans back into space after so long. There are naysayers, but I say that you are doing well despite the setbacks. Swinging the conversation to me,” he pauses here and admits, “I do understand the feelings of doubt. Humanity is so fickle sometimes, wanting progression but sliding back down the slope at the hints of unknown.”
NASA hums as she nods. “Exactly.” This is the exact sentiment she is reaching for. As a research and development agency, it’s easy to know the general direction to steer this boat, but the ending destination is not a known port. “Even when we worked so hard despite it all, the universe is cruel enough to take that ending away from us.”
Their nation remains this adamant about digging in its heels against progress. If the budget is slashed and the mission never realised—what then? What if it simply never happens, no matter how hard they try?
So many ifs and not enough comfortable choices.
It’s not like her to doubt her own mission. Given the tensions, both in and out of the country, it may as well be a valid apprehension.
“I’m optimistic about it, though. Countries around the world still fight against climate change, and many more aspire for the stars. The universe is cruel, yes, but it is kind enough to give us our starting shot. We keep going forward. Like you said you’d do.” He looks imploringly at her, as if waiting for her reaction.
NASA snorts. Of course these words would wind up back in her hands. Words of encouragement, these hopes and dreams of shooting for the stars. She has never stopped forging her path ahead, but when she falters, she must always yearn for the vastness and beauty of the cosmos itself. She has given this advice to many of the other organisations, other agencies that wander
Still… a pick-me-up never hurts. She needed that.
“I am. I will continue to keep going forward.”
“Good.”
A vibration against her thigh forces her to check what was going on. Her phone is alight as she pulls it from her pocket, and she finds exactly what’s wrong.
Two unread messages.
Two messages passed through her Do Not Disturb mode.
> Natasha, we need you back. We got transmission issues. We’ll barter for lunch break tomorrow.
>> Nat!!! our math ain’t mathign :((
>> also i thnk tht la mujer is watchn me again hlp
She sighs, one of ironic amusement. She slips onto the table, and wonders when is the next time she’ll meet her friend again. Next week? In a few months? Time shrinks, but in this bubble, she realised just how much she missed human interactions.
“Something wrong?” NASA looks up to find NOAA’s worried gaze and it’s all she could do to offer back a small smile, tapping her fork lightly against the plate.
“The station’s calling me back for some issues. It’s bad if they need my help for it. Florida, on the other hand, is probably getting hounded by my director.” She’s wry with her words, not exactly surprised but longing all the same for her work once more. She wonders what kind of physics problem will lay out beyond her hands now, and whether or not she will feel truly ready for when the launch date is at hand.
NOAA’s laugh cleans her of her reverie. “I still don’t understand how you manage to get Florida to willing work for you.”
“That’s because I’m his enrichment buddy,” she quips back, the same kind of answers she pelts everybody if they ask. She doesn’t think it’s a secret that Florida is proficient in maths and physics, considering he loves to invoke the it’s not harder than rocket science joke every time he thinks it fits. Right?
Considering people always get surprised, maybe not.
She finishes her plate with controlled haste, enjoying flavour as much as she could. If they really demand her time, then there’s nothing she can do but return.
“Hey.” She startles when NOAA calls her attention once more, even more so when he reaches over to lightly tap at her phone. “You know you can just call me anytime if you need anyone to talk to. Hell, call your other space buddies or the other friends you have. You deserve a break too.”
NASA smiles. NOAA’s real sweet.
“Listen, I will if you will. I know you have a tendency to miss lunch breaks because you’re too engrossed in your work.” NASA pushes back, tapping on the back of his hand. “Need I remind you of what happened an hour earlier?”
NOAA chuckles, sheepish as he scratches the back of his head. “That was just a minor setback.”
“At least I am aware of my limits.” She smirks, gathering her things and checking if everything is in order. Once satisfied, she calls over a waitress for the bill, quickly sliding the crisp hundred bills into her hands as payment, lightly amused at NOAA’s incredulity. “As payment for our little get-together,” she explains.
“I could’ve handled my part of the bill.” He shakes his head with a disbelieving smile. “I’m still eating y’know.”
“Well, you can get it next time, huh?” She shoots back, smoothly sliding out of their little booth and wandering closer to where NOAA sits, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Same time next week?”
“Bring some friends.” He pats her hand lightly. NOAA looks rather sincere in that promise, so it’s all NASA can do to smile back.
“Deal.”
NASA stands there, eyes to the distant sky. Bright, blue, and endless. The atmosphere that cradles life to Earth’s chest, the light that filters through, the clouds that hang as distant ornaments. It looks like a normal day. It wasn’t a normal day.
How nice, that the moon shines in the dwindling twilight.
It’s been hours. The adrenaline hasn’t left, yet. How can it, when the very ground itself shook hours ago, almost unable to withstand the beauty of human ingenuity and curiosity for the worlds above? The buzz under her skin, the media, the people; her astronauts, her crew, it all condensed into one riotous day full of massive achievements. Photos, videos, posts—forever immortalised under the atmosphere. Her heart is full, her giddiness unrestrained.
It happened. Science and human volition has succeeded.
“The moon is in sight,” she whispers.
It will happen. Her mission will happen. What a glorious day it will be, when humanity gets to reach for the stars on their own time.