Sci-Fi Shorts: In Gagarin’s Time

In Gagarin’s Time

By Laura Ward

Anna​ ​squeezed​ ​her​ ​grandfather’s​ ​hand​ ​as​ ​they​ ​paused​ ​at​ ​the​ ​threshold​ ​of​ ​the​ ​one​ ​place​ ​they had​ ​both​ ​dreamed​ ​of​ ​seeing​ ​for​ ​themselves:​ ​the​ ​headquarters​ ​of​ ​the​ ​Soviet​ ​Space​ ​Agency.​ ​

The building​ ​that​ ​was​ ​once​ ​the​ ​centre​ ​of​ ​every​ ​space​ ​enthusiasts’​ ​ambitions​ ​now​ ​stood​ ​in​ ​disrepair; a​ ​concrete​ ​ghost​ ​in​ ​the​ ​Russian​ ​landscape,​ ​mimicking​ ​the​ ​world’s​ ​shattered​ ​dreams.​ ​They​ ​had died​ ​on​ ​that​ ​fatal​ ​day​ ​in​ ​1961​ ​etched​ ​in​ ​everyone’s​ ​memory:​ ​when​ ​man​ ​went​ ​into​ ​space…​ ​but never​ ​returned.​ ​That​ ​was​ ​the​ ​day​ ​that​ ​the​ ​Space​ ​Race​ ​died.

Yuri​ ​Gagarin’s​ ​last​ ​words​ ​on​ ​Earth​ ​echoed​ ​in​ ​Anna’s​ ​head​ ​as​ ​she​ ​started​ ​up​ ​the​ ​overgrown​ ​path towards​ ​the​ ​building.​ ​​“POYEKHALI!”

“Do​ ​you​ ​think​ ​they​ ​will​ ​believe​ ​you,​ ​Dedushka?”​ ​she​ ​whispered​ ​to​ ​the​ ​old​ ​man​ ​by​ ​her​ ​side.
“Oh,​ ​Anna,”​ ​he​ ​sighed,​ ​slowing​ ​his​ ​pace.​ ​“I​ ​don’t​ ​even​ ​think​ ​the​ ​guide​ ​will​ ​care.​ ​But​ ​I​ ​must​ ​go​ ​- just​ ​in​ ​case.”

At​ ​the​ ​entrance​ ​a​ ​man​ ​stood​ ​waiting,​ ​leaning​ ​back​ ​against​ ​the​ ​brickwork​ ​to​ ​rest​ ​his​ ​legs.​ ​Visitors were​ ​few​ ​and​ ​far​ ​between​ ​now,​ ​yet​ ​he​ ​was​ ​still​ ​expected​ ​to​ ​stand​ ​there,​ ​day​ ​after​ ​day,​ ​as​ ​the building​ ​and​ ​its​ ​contents​ ​began​ ​to​ ​crumble​ ​away.

“Welcome,”​ ​he​ ​announced,​ ​as​ ​he​ ​slowly​ ​unlocked​ ​the​ ​door​ ​to​ ​the​ ​complex.​ ​“Here​ ​stands​ ​the remains​ ​of​ ​our​ ​Space​ ​Agency.​ ​Beginning​ ​in​ ​19-”

“Yes,​ ​yes,”​ ​the​ ​old​ ​man​ ​dismissed,​ ​“we​ ​know​ ​all​ ​of​ ​that.​ ​Let’s​ ​just​ ​get​ ​in​ ​and​ ​started,​ ​shall​ ​we?” The​ ​doors​ ​led​ ​into​ ​a​ ​large​ ​entrance​ ​hall,​ ​with​ ​a​ ​statue​ ​dominating​ ​the​ ​centre.​ ​Anna​ ​brushed​ ​her hand​ ​over​ ​the​ ​bronze​ ​cast​ ​of​ ​Laika,​ ​the​ ​first​ ​dog​ ​in​ ​space,​ ​as​ ​if​ ​to​ ​pet​ ​her.

“Her​ ​capsule​ ​is​ ​over​ ​here,”​ ​the​ ​guide​ ​called,​ ​motioning​ ​her​ ​to​ ​see​ ​the​ ​four​ ​metre-high​ ​cone shaped​ ​object.​ ​Sputnik​ ​2​ ​had,​ ​of​ ​course,​ ​been​ ​lost​ ​on​ ​re-entry​ ​but​ ​the​ ​replica​ ​still​ ​took​ ​her breath​ ​away.

“How​ ​small​ ​it​ ​is,”​ ​she​ ​breathed,​ ​staring​ ​sadly​ ​into​ ​the​ ​tiny​ ​cage-like​ ​space​ ​that​ ​Laika​ ​spent​ ​the last​ ​hours​ ​of​ ​her​ ​life​ ​in.

“Yes..​ ​Hmm-mm.”​ ​The​ ​guide​ ​cleared​ ​his​ ​throat​ ​and​ ​attempted​ ​to​ ​block​ ​out​ ​the​ ​realisation​ ​that the​ ​museum​ ​was​ ​actually​ ​a​ ​mausoleum.

“And​ ​this…”​ ​Anna​ ​rushed​ ​to​ ​the​ ​other​ ​side​ ​of​ ​the​ ​hall​ ​to​ ​a​ ​metal​ ​sphere,​ ​just​ ​over​ ​2​ ​metres​ ​wide. “Look,​ ​Dedu!”​ ​she​ ​cried.

Her​ ​finger​ ​traced​ ​a​ ​line​ ​across​ ​the​ ​surface​ ​of​ ​the​ ​capsule​ ​to​ ​the​ ​open​ ​hatch.​ ​Silently,​ ​she​ ​gazed in​ ​wonder​ ​at​ ​the​ ​instruments​ ​that​ ​lined​ ​the​ ​inside;​ ​the​ ​TV​ ​camera;​ ​the​ ​very​ ​seat​ ​created​ ​for​ ​the world’s​ ​first​ ​cosmonaut.​ ​She​ ​heard​ ​a​ ​harsh​ ​tut​ ​from​ ​her​ ​grandfather.

“A​ ​replica​ ​of​ ​course,”​ ​he​ ​reminded​ ​her.​ ​He​ ​turned​ ​to​ ​the​ ​guide,​ ​who​ ​had​ ​removed​ ​his​ ​cap​ ​in honour​ ​of​ ​the​ ​fallen​ ​man.

“Enough​ ​of​ ​this.”​ ​The​ ​old​ ​man​ ​folded​ ​his​ ​arms.​ ​“I​ ​haven’t​ ​come​ ​to​ ​see​ ​these​ ​toys.​ ​I​ ​believe​ ​the control​ ​centre​ ​is​ ​still​ ​here.​ ​I’d​ ​like​ ​to​ ​view​ ​it​ ​now.”

“We​ ​normally​ ​leave​ ​that​ ​until​ ​the​ ​end,”​ ​the​ ​guide​ ​responded​ ​weakly.

“Take​ ​it​ ​that​ ​this​ ​is​ ​the​ ​end.”

He​ ​nodded​ ​and​ ​began​ ​to​ ​fumble​ ​with​ ​the​ ​tangle​ ​of​ ​keys​ ​inside​ ​his​ ​pocket.​ ​Anna​ ​skipped​ ​over​ ​to him​ ​to​ ​help.

“Don’t​ ​mind​ ​grandfather,”​ ​she​ ​whispered.​ ​“He​ ​always​ ​seems​ ​a​ ​little​ ​gruff.​ ​But​ ​we​ ​would​ l​​ove​​ ​to see​ ​the​ ​command​ ​centre.​ ​It’s​ ​been​ ​our​ ​​dream​.”

The​ ​guide’s​ ​face​ ​softened,​ ​and​ ​the​ ​jumble​ ​of​ ​metal​ ​became​ ​easier​ ​to​ ​handle.​ ​In​ ​no​ ​time​ ​he​ ​had located​ ​the​ ​correct​ ​key.​ ​Anna​ ​bounced​ ​along​ ​beside​ ​him​ ​as​ ​he​ ​led​ ​the​ ​way​ ​down​ ​corridors​ ​and through​ ​dust​ ​filled​ ​rooms​ ​until​ ​he​ ​found​ ​the​ ​heavily​ ​bolted​ ​door​ ​that​ ​they​ ​needed.

The​ ​guide​ ​flicked​ ​on​ ​light​ ​switches​ ​as​ ​the​ ​three​ ​of​ ​them​ ​entered​ ​the​ ​room.​ ​There​ ​were​ ​four​ ​long rows​ ​of​ ​desks​ ​filled​ ​with​ ​screens​ ​and​ ​buttons,​ ​abandoned​ ​papers​ ​and​ ​files.​ ​This​ ​was​ ​no​ ​replica; it​ ​had​ ​been​ ​kept​ ​intact​ ​from​ ​1961​ ​until​ ​the​ ​present​ ​day​ ​as​ ​a​ ​continuing​ ​reminder​ ​of​ ​what​ ​the Earth​ ​tried,​ ​yet​ ​failed,​ ​to​ ​do.​ ​

Anna​ ​lingered​ ​in​ ​the​ ​doorway​ ​not​ ​wanting​ ​to​ ​disturb​ ​the​ ​chilling atmosphere​ ​in​ ​the​ ​room.​ ​As​ ​her​ ​grandfather​ ​marched​ ​forward,​ ​the​ ​guide​ ​began​ ​to​ ​follow​ ​but​ ​she quickly​ ​pulled​ ​him​ ​back.

“Why​ ​are​ ​there​ ​so​ ​many​ ​screens?”​ ​she​ ​asked,​ ​knowing​ ​the​ ​answer​ ​already.​ ​She​ ​nodded​ ​politely as​ ​the​ ​guide​ ​gave​ ​her​ ​a​ ​long​ ​droning​ ​answer,​ ​but​ ​her​ ​gaze​ ​flitted​ ​to​ ​her​ ​grandfather​ ​whenever she​ ​could.​ ​He​ ​had​ ​crouched​ ​down​ ​at​ ​the​ ​end​ ​of​ ​one​ ​of​ ​the​ ​rows.​ ​Anna​ ​thought​ ​that​ ​perhaps​ ​he had​ ​found​ ​what​ ​he​ ​was​ ​looking​ ​for,​ ​but​ ​no.​ ​Up​ ​he​ ​popped​ ​again​ ​and​ ​headed​ ​slowly​ ​down​ ​the second​ ​row.

The​ ​guide​ ​was​ ​coming​ ​to​ ​the​ ​end​ ​of​ ​his​ ​answer​ ​now,​ ​and​ ​she​ ​realised​ ​that​ ​she​ ​would​ ​have​ ​to keep​ ​him​ ​talking.​ ​She​ ​blurted​ ​out​ ​her​ ​question,​ ​the​ ​one​ ​she​ ​really​ ​wanted​ ​the​ ​answer​ ​to,​ ​before he​ ​had​ ​fully​ ​finished​ ​his​ ​previous​ ​ramblings.​ ​Both​ ​the​ ​timing​ ​and​ ​the​ ​question​ ​shocked​ ​him​ ​to silence​ ​for​ ​several​ ​seconds.

“What​ ​do​ ​you​ ​think​ ​happened​ ​to​ ​Gagarin?”

After​ ​he​ ​collected​ ​himself,​ ​he​ ​answered​ ​slowly,​ ​gauging​ ​how​ ​blunt​ ​he​ ​could​ ​be​ ​with​ ​the​ ​girl. “Well,​ ​now,​ ​I​ ​think​ ​everyone​ ​knows​ ​what​ ​happened​ ​to​ ​that​ ​poor​ ​man.”

“He​ ​went​ ​missing,​ ​I​ ​know.​ ​But​ ​what​ ​do​ ​you​ ​think​ ​​actually​​ ​happened?”

The​ ​guide​ ​cleared​ ​his​ ​throat​ ​before​ ​continuing.​ ​He​ ​spoke​ ​in​ ​monotone,​ ​eyes​ ​focused​ ​on​ ​nothing but​ ​the​ ​wall.​ ​“Major​ ​Yuri​ ​Gagarin​ ​reached​ ​orbit​ ​in​ ​Vostok​ ​1.​ ​Soon​ ​after​ ​that​ ​moment​ ​we​ ​lost​ ​all radio​ ​contact.​ ​That​ ​was​ ​to​ ​be​ ​expected,​ ​but​ ​the​ ​ground​ ​control​ ​were​ ​confident​ ​that​ ​they​ ​would receive​ ​a​ ​status​ ​message​ ​in​ ​due​ ​course.​ ​No​ ​message​ ​came.​ ​Vostok​ ​1​ ​was​ ​never​ ​seen​ ​again.”

Anna​ ​saw​ ​that​ ​her​ ​grandfather​ ​was​ ​standing​ ​in​ ​the​ ​centre​ ​of​ ​the​ ​room,​ ​between​ ​two​ ​rows​ ​of desks.​ ​He​ ​had​ ​a​ ​peculiar​ ​smile​ ​on​ ​his​ ​face​ ​that​ ​she​ ​couldn’t​ ​quite​ ​decipher.

“What​ ​if​ ​he​ ​was​ ​still​ ​alive?”

The​ ​guide​ ​turned​ ​to​ ​face​ ​the​ ​man,​ ​not​ ​even​ ​noticing​ ​that​ ​he​ ​had​ ​crept​ ​past​ ​him.​ ​“Impossible.” He​ ​paused​ ​for​ ​a​ ​moment,​ ​but​ ​then​ ​repeated:​ ​“Impossible.​ ​He​ ​had​ ​enough​ ​oxygen​ ​and​ ​food​ ​for ten​ ​days.​ ​It’s​ ​been​ ​over​ ​50​ ​years!”

“We’re​ ​not​ ​so​ ​sure​ ​about​ ​that,”​ ​Anna​ ​smiled.​ ​“Depending​ ​on​ ​our​ ​position​ ​and​ ​speed,​ ​time​ ​can seem​ ​to​ ​run​ ​slower​ ​or​ ​quicker.​ ​In​ ​space,​ ​time​ ​moves​ ​more​ ​slowly​ ​than​ ​on​ ​Earth.​ ​What​ ​if​ ​those 50​ ​years​ ​for​ ​us​ ​were​ ​only​ ​50​ ​minutes​ ​for​ ​Major​ ​Gagarin?”

“It’s​ ​not​ ​​that​​ ​much​ ​slower,”​ ​the​ ​guide​ ​laughed.​ ​“The​ ​mathematics​ ​of​ ​the​ ​mission​ ​stated​ ​that​ ​-”

“But​ ​what​ ​if​ ​that​ ​was​ ​wrong?”​ ​The​ ​older​ ​man​ ​moved​ ​sideways​ ​along​ ​the​ ​row​ ​of​ ​desks​ ​where​ ​he had​ ​been​ ​standing.​ ​His​ ​hands​ ​were​ ​hidden​ ​from​ ​view,​ ​and​ ​Anna​ ​realised​ ​what​ ​he​ ​was​ ​looking for.

“It​ ​couldn’t​ ​be,”​ ​he​ ​asserted​ ​again.

Anna​ ​spoke​ ​quickly,​ ​distracting​ ​the​ ​man’s​ ​attention​ ​from​ ​her​ ​grandfather​ ​as​ ​he​ ​ducked​ ​beneath a​ ​desk​ ​to​ ​fiddle​ ​with​ ​switches.​ ​“I’ve​ ​been​ ​studying​ ​with​ ​my​ ​grandfather​ ​since​ ​I​ ​was​ ​old​ ​enough​ ​to reach​ ​his​ ​telescope.​ ​He​ ​has​ ​been​ ​plotting​ ​an​ ​object​ ​for​ ​the​ ​past​ ​half​ ​century.​ ​It​ ​moves​ ​so​ ​slightly each​ ​night​ ​that​ ​it​ ​is​ ​hard​ ​to​ ​tell,​ ​but​ ​over​ ​the​ ​years​ ​he​ ​is​ ​certain​ ​that​ ​it​ ​is​ ​following​ ​the​ ​orbit​ ​that Vostok​ ​1​ ​was​ ​intended​ ​to.​ ​​What​ ​if​​ ​-​ ​?”

A​ ​crackling​ ​burst​ ​into​ ​life​ ​across​ ​the​ ​tannoys​ ​and​ ​the​ ​old​ ​man​ ​stood​ ​up​ ​triumphantly.
The​ ​younger​ ​man​ ​rounded​ ​on​ ​him​ ​as​ ​lights​ ​flickered​ ​and​ ​screens​ ​came​ ​into​ ​life​ ​around​ ​the room.​ ​“What​ ​have​ ​you​ ​done?”

“Switched​ ​on​ ​the​ ​command​ ​centre​ ​again,​ ​that​ ​is​ ​all.​ ​No​ ​harm​ ​is​ ​done.​ ​And​ ​yet…”

The​ ​sounds​ ​were​ ​changing​ ​now,​ ​interference​ ​from​ ​the​ ​radio​ ​waves​ ​breaking​ ​down.​ ​Was​ ​that​ ​a voice​ ​coming​ ​through?​ ​It​ ​was​ ​tinny​ ​and​ ​faint,​ ​but​ ​was​ ​gaining​ ​in​ ​volume​ ​with​ ​each​ ​second.

“…​ ​read​ ​me?​ ​I​ ​repeat,​ ​Ground​ ​Control​ ​do​ ​you​ ​read​ ​me?”

Anna​ ​rushed​ ​to​ ​one​ ​of​ ​the​ ​microphones​ ​at​ ​the​ ​desk.​ ​“Mr​ ​Gagarin?”

“Ground​ ​Control​ ​do​ ​you​ ​…”

“This​ ​is​ ​Ground​ ​Control,”​ ​the​ ​old​ ​man​ ​asserted,​ ​taking​ ​the​ ​microphone​ ​from​ ​his​ ​granddaughter whilst​ ​ushering​ ​her​ ​away​ ​to​ ​a​ ​seat.

“I​ ​lost​ ​you​ ​there​ ​for​ ​a​ ​while​ ​Ground​ ​Control.​ ​I’m​ ​re-entering​ ​into​ ​sunlight.​ ​I​ ​repeat,​ ​leaving​ ​the dark​ ​side​ ​of​ ​the​ ​Earth.”

“Major​ ​Gagarin,​ ​can​ ​I​ ​ask​ ​for​ ​a​ ​time​ ​check​ ​on​ ​your​ ​flight​ ​please?”

There​ ​was​ ​a​ ​pause​ ​over​ ​the​ ​radio.

“Ground​ ​Control,​ ​you​ ​must​ ​have​ ​that​ ​information​ ​already?”

“Of​ ​course,​ ​Major.​ ​But​ ​we​ ​are​ ​just​ ​checking​ ​all​ ​is​ ​well​ ​with​ ​your​ ​systems.”

A​ ​relieved​ ​sigh​ ​was​ ​heard​ ​on​ ​the​ ​radio.​ ​“All​ ​good​ ​here,​ ​Ground​ ​Control.​ ​I​ ​feel​ ​fine.​ ​One​ ​hour​ ​and three​ ​minutes​ ​since​ ​take​ ​off.”

“Retrorockets​ ​will​ ​fire​ ​soon,​ ​Major,​ ​and​ ​bring​ ​you​ ​back​ ​down​ ​to​ ​Earth.”

Anna​ ​could​ ​see​ ​her​ ​grandfather’s​ ​furrowed​ ​brow​ ​as​ ​he​ ​hastily​ ​calculated​ ​from​ ​the​ ​information​ ​on the​ ​screens​ ​in​ ​front​ ​of​ ​him.​ ​“We​ ​estimate​ ​in​ ​15​ ​minutes.​ ​We​ ​look​ ​forward​ ​to​ ​your​ ​safe​ ​landing.”

The​ ​old​ ​man​ ​pushed​ ​himself​ ​back​ ​from​ ​the​ ​desk,​ ​legs​ ​shaking​ ​after​ ​his​ ​conversation​ ​with​ ​a​ ​man suddenly​ ​brought​ ​back​ ​from​ ​the​ ​dead.

All​ ​these​ ​years.
All​ ​the​ ​research​ ​and​ ​calculations.
To​ ​finally​ ​know​ ​that​ ​he​ ​was​ ​right;​ ​and​ ​that​ ​a​ ​man’s​ ​life​ ​and​ ​all​ ​the​ ​world’s​ ​dreams​ ​were​ ​still intact.

“Call​ ​your​ ​superiors,”​ ​he​ ​sighed,​ ​closing​ ​his​ ​eyes.​ ​“They​ ​have​ ​ten​ ​years​ ​to​ ​prepare​ ​for​ ​landing.”

And that's a wrap!
Join us on Saturday 18 November for award ceremony, as part of the Literary Leicester Festival!