Backwoods NASA

“One more time and from the top, tell us what happened.”

“I’ve done told y’all 3 times this week, what’s there left to tell? Nothing I say gonna make you believe me.”

“Humor us, Mr. Samson. We’re not here to incriminate you, I believe that you believe what you witnessed was real. And there was a radar anomaly around the time you’ve previously stated. We just need to hear it directly from you, one more time.”

“Fine. Come in, mind your shoes, and have a seat in the living room. I’ll be right there, gotta take a wiz.”

Two people wearing identical khaki-colored pants, navy blue blazers, white button-down shirts, and red ties entered Mr. Samson’s home, leaving their same-sized brown dress shoes at the door. This would be the fourth time this week that these strangers have shown up unannounced. Mr. Samson Jr doesn’t know who they represent. Jr doesn’t even know their names, nor can he ever remember what they look like or why they came once they leave.

Jr doesn’t want to let them in or answer their questions, yet he is compelled to do so.

“Can I get either of you a glass of water while I’m up?”

“No, thank you. But we’ll both need some salt in 10 minutes. Tell us again. Why did you and your father build a rocket?”

The Sunday before last, Mr. Samson Sr supposedly disappeared amidst a blinding light while piloting a homemade steam-powered rocket. Not a single trace of Mr. Samson Sr or the rocket was found after an intensive 4-day search.

“I feel like a jackass every time I gotta tell this… it began after Pa and I had a bit of a scuff over whether or not the Earth was flat or round. He’d been watching a bunch of trash on YouTube, all of a sudden he’s an idiot.”

“An idiot that figured out how to make a steam-powered rocket that reached nearly 5,000 ft without any formal education. That’s gotta mean something.”

“Means people can be smart and dumb at the same time. Maddening what it is.”

“Continue.”

“Well, he was the kind of man that enjoyed proving others wrong. Didn’t matter if it made sense, it was about you being wrong. You get me? Next thing I knew, we were cleaning out the old barn. Converted it right quick into a decent workshop. And that’s all the help I gave. After that, it was all him.”

“What was he using to learn?”

“YouTube. Lots of YouTube. A few library books and magazines as well.”

Now in the same room, Jr notices that his guests have pale, almost corpse-like, colored skin and bright thin lips. One sat across from Jr, the other behind them against the wall. The one leaning on the wall is tapping the front of his teeth with the tips of its finger. It's like watching someone try to have a habit that’s never had one before.

“So, what next?”

“Not much to tell. Took em 9 months to build and he had a few failed rocket tests, nothing stands out… Hmm, well now that I think about it. Pa did say he would get strange calls sometimes. Said that there was no one on the other end, just a few clicking noises then silence. Don’t know how that could be related, but there it is.”

“What kind of clicks and how many?”

“Uh, I’m not sure. Never heard em myself, just remember Pa mentioning them a few times over dinner.”

“And launch day?”

“Yeah, we were real proud. Started calling the old barn, Backwoods NASA. Living this far out has its perks. The plan was that he’d reach 5,000ft up, see the curve or lack thereof, then parachute back down. I had my binoculars out, watching the rocket get smaller and smaller as it ascended. Then...then a bright flash of blue light came out the clouds and poof. The rocket was gone.”

Jr’s guests turn beet red by the time he finishes the last sentence.

“May we have that salt now?”

Jr goes into the kitchen looking for salt. The shaker on the dining table is nearly empty so he just grabs the box out of the cupboard. On second thought, Jr also pours 2 glasses of water as not to be rude to his guests. After setting the salt and water on the coffee table, Jr watches as both the men take out a yellow pill and gulp it down with a handful of salt. Neither glass of water is touched.

“A blue light, you said?”

“Yeah, from what I could tell. You guys have any idea what that might be?”

“No. Thank you, Mr. Samson. That will be all.”

With that, the two strangers exit the house. Jr watches as a black Buick pulls up the driveway, seemingly without a driver. The strangers get in and drive away. Jr stands on his front porch, wondering what he’s been doing for the past half-hour. With a quick shrug, Jr heads back inside none the wiser. The old barn him and his Pa once called Backwoods NASA is gone and no one can remember the Samson’s ever having one.