Lost Time Incident

October 30, 2004

Surprising Ham

The night before we were going to send Ham up into space, we gathered in the darkness of the NASA control room, huddled under the solid plastic desks quietly. In packs, we had spent the afternoon shopping for farewell gifts. Angela and Mark stayed behind and were in charge of hanging colored paper streamers.

It's been so long, but I still remember that we had to put our heads together to see if any of us knew if monkeys saw in color. Would Ham appreciate the streamers? We hoped so.

There were steady beeps and green lines swept radar circles on radar display screens while we waited for Jeremy to bring Ham by for the surprise party. When Ham came in, waddling in his handsome military fatigues, we would leap out and all say SURPRISE. Then we would give him presents and bananas.

Ham was the bravest monkey I ever worked with at NASA. He was a real American hero.

After a long while, the handle jiggled and we heard quiet and curious "eep eeps." Jeremy was saying "We just have a few more tests, Ham, before tomorrow's launch. You don't mind a few more needles, do you?"

And Margaret flipped the lights on and we leapt out, SURPRISE!

And there was either surprise or terror in Ham's eyes and he bared his teeth. It could have been more awkward, but we all knew Ham and he knew us. He calmed down almost immediately. The wall-length mission control display was running a cycle of wire frame images: our planned mission. While we shared bananas, Ham's ship launched and orbited, launched and orbited, launched and orbited.

It was quite a sight.

I don't remember the presents we got Ham, really. One of them was a stuffed animal, a chimp. I remember that because of a few off-color jokes about how he'd be the only astronaut to be able to bring a, uh, sexual partner along.

The other gifts were in better taste, but I've forgotten them.

What I remember most vividly is that at the end of the night, when empty bottles covered every flat surface in the mission control room, I pulled Ham aside.

"Ham," I said to him. "I know that as a monkey, you probably can only understand some of what I am saying. Maybe you react more to the tone of my voice or the expressions on my face. But I thought that before we put you into that rocket and we all try to make history, I wanted to let you know... how proud I am of you and what you've already accomplished."

Ham blew air through his lips in a sputtering rasberry that left flecks of spit on my heavy black-rimmed glasses. I ran a hand through my crew cut. Gathered my thoughts.

"You may end tomorrow not as a walker among the stars, Ham, but as a flaming fireball and a miserable failure. And if that happens, know that we won't blame you. We can't. I mean, we didn't make it so you were steering or anything. You're just along for the ride."

Ham began to eat a new banana, peel and all. But his serious eyes were on me when they weren't on the banana.

"Ham... Ham, I wish you nothing but good luck. If I could ensure that it would happen, I would give you any good luck I might have set aside for personal use. But there are two problems with that plan. One, as a scientist, I must acknowledge that there is no such thing as luck and even if there were, it's not transferrable. And two, my wife is leaving me, so I seem to be out of luck anyway."

Ham was looking deep into my eyes. I felt as if he could sense the very real pain in my voice. I felt a real connection with Ham at that moment. A deeper bond than I had ever felt with my manipulating wife.

If Ham could have talked, I believed that what he would have said to me then was this:

"Dr. Idle. . . throughout my training for this mission, I have come to know a good many humans. And among them, you shine like an LED on a darkened navigation panel. Please . . . let me help you. I have a plan. What we must do together is difficult, but necessary. You must obtain a chimpanzee costume. A very good chimpanzee costume. Not one of those with the plastic faces that is held on with a rubber band. Then for tomorrow's launch, you can take my place and be a hero. The hero you were always meant to be.

"You know as well as I that you could evade the scrutiny of your fellow NASA scientists. And you could fulfill every requirement of the mission that I could.

"And while you rocketed out of Earth's maternal and smothering gravity, I could be taking your place with your wife, teaching her again the elegant simplicity of mammalian passion, rekindling the spark your marriage lacks. If I can go boldly into space, I can be just as bold in your bed.

"And when you return to Earth safely, come find me and we shall switch back. You will have the best of both worlds. You and I can do this, Doctor. Believe in me as I believe in you. Take my hand. Let us leave this surprise party and carve out new destinies for ourselves."

All of this passed between us in an instant.

In the next instant, Ham showed the only lapse of control I can ever remember seeing him suffer as he regurgitated banana on the floor, sick from overindulgence.

As it was, I could not bring myself to take advantage of the offer I felt that Ham had communicated to me. A great deal of this was because, as a scientist, I did not believe in chimp-to-man telepathy and I believed the whole incident to be the invention of my inebriated mind.

But another part of me knew the truth and knows it to this day. I was too much of a coward to take Ham's place.

When it came down to the clutch, Ham had what it took to rise to the occasion. And I did not.

Ham left the party with Margaret at about two a.m. and the party wound down after that. I stayed to help tear down streamers and mop up. After all, we had a busy day ahead of us the following day. It wouldn't do to have anyone's footing be at risk.

Years passed. I remain alone. My career continues apace.

But still, whenever I pass a fragrant bunch of bananas, I think back... to what might have been. To futures unlived. To the true meaning of heroism, and of "America," and of Ham.

And I feel blessed to have been there as Ham left us here on the ground and ascended to god height, instead of being at my home where a locksmith was changing the locks on the doors of my house, where I was no longer welcome.

Posted by Michael at October 30, 2004 10:23 PM