One Giant Leap

Dear Mother and Father,

I'm writing to you from a system named "Benedetto's Star," named in honor of the captain of the first human-led expedition to reach it. I understand that this message shall take months to find you, but I'm led to believe that's true of all these letters, and that is a reflection of both New Canaan's comparative inaccessibility and the fact that the written word is such an uncommon way to communicate in this technology-obsessed society.

Still, even if I were to use one of the electronic communications media currently fashionable, this missive would still be at least a week in reaching you. And even then, that's making extensive use of so-called "wormholes," the strange anomalies that are the foundation of interstellar society. (Even the most brilliant natural philosophers concede that they are unable to formulate a theory that reliably predicts where unknown wormholes may be found, or that even provides an internally-consistent explanation for their existence! And yet, when I suggest the obvious explanation that they are created and placed according to the will of God, it is dismissed out of hand. One wonders when -- or, indeed, even if -- the scales shall ever fall from their eyes.) If the message were to be sent to you directly, by-passing the wormholes and simply traversing the void between the stars at the speed of light, it would be decades in reaching you!

I am lead to believe that such unfathomable distances have been known to weigh heavily upon the souls of the men and women why make their lives here in such unknowable depths -- or, perhaps I should say, in their shallows, for the wormholes by which we find our way are always near the stars that light our journey. But I find comfort in such enormity, in knowing that the Lord who watches over us all is so mighty that even the very scope of His creation is beyond my ability to comprehend.

Like all stars, Benedetto's -- or "Big Ben," as it is commonly known -- is surrounded by a majestic profusion of comets, asteroids, and planets, great and small. The most noteworthy is its closest planet, Wunderwelt, with an established colony of some two-hundred-million souls. I understand that it holds the distinction of being physically nearer its star than any other habitable planet yet known to humanity. Indeed, its very name means "Wonder World," a reference to the fact that astrological theory at the time of its discovery steadfastly maintained that no life-bearing planet could possibly exist so close to an orange star! I understand that the life native to the planet, while unsophisticated, is resilient to a degree rarely encountered, and that sunrises viewed from the planet's surface inspire awe. The same could be said of the star's frequent flares, with the caveat that those are best appreciated from behind high-quality radiation shielding -- indeed, I'm told that the means by which the local flora and fauna survive such stellar bombardment is the subject of intense scientific inquiry.

Unfortunately, our travels rarely take us to the inner planets of the stars we visit -- or "dirtside," to use the vernacular of my new profession. Mostly, we journey to and from the stations overlooking the various wormholes through which we travel. While I wouldn't mind more opportunities to visit the actual worlds settled by humanity, these floating outposts of civilization are often quite interesting in their own right. The one we are near right now, known as "Terran Art Institute," is built using the hull of a freight transport vessel that was decommissioned over a century ago! While it's small by the standards of such stations, it is nevertheless an immense vessel, and it is amazing to think that it once traveled under its own power!

Of course, it was built here at Benedetto's Star; due to its size, it would have been wholly unable to exit any of the wormholes accessible within this system. They only way to get it to another star would be to take it a piece at a time through a wormhole, or to do it "the long way," which would take centuries and certainly tax the venerable craft well beyond its abilities!

I mentioned that the station is known as "Terran Art Institute," which probably strikes you as an odd name for a deep-space facility. In truth, the official name is "Benedetto-Shangsun Junction Station;" the Terran Art Institute is but the sponsor!

You see, the Terran Art Institute is an artistically-oriented education institute with campuses scattered throughout human-settled space. They reached an accord with the consortium of merchants who own this station such that, in exchange for a substantial sum of money, the merchants agree to refer to this station by their name -- even though the Terran Art Institute is otherwise wholly uninvolved with its operation!

The principle is known as "marketing," which seems to consist of major merchant guilds putting their names or the names of their products every place they can simply to increase the volume of people who have heard the name. I would think that extolling their virtues or the virtues of their products would be a critical component of this process, but that is apparently optional -- the Terran Art Institute will, for example, be pleased to boast of why you should send your sons or daughters to them for an artistic education, but failing that, are content for you to simply know their name and that they exist!

It strikes me as a bizarre way to assign names by leasing them to the highest bidder, but it is one that has been adopted whole-heartedly. I understand major structures "dirtside" are afflicted with a similar naming convention, as are most ships! It would seem the vessel on which I now serve, "Mayberry Mitch," is a rare exception to this rule -- so rare that most people assume we're named after some product or service of which they are, for the moment, ignorant!

In fact, that is one of the aspects of this culture to which I have had much trouble adapting -- the various merchant guilds, "corporations," are so aggressive with such "marketing" techniques that they pride themselves on finding ever more intrusive ways to tempt you with services you do not want and products you do not need. In jest, I once made an off-hand comment to Captain Chan in praise of how neither planets nor stars are forced to bear such names.

The jest was, of course, upon me. Captain Chang pointed out that "Shangsun," the star waiting for us on the other side of the wormhole near which we now sit awaiting fuel, was originally known as "Shang's Sun," which took its name from Shang Colonial Supplies, a once-powerful commercial entity whose fortunes waned and who was ultimately absorbed by its competitors over two centuries ago. In the frontier worlds, which are less densely populated and thus have fewer people to object should their local government suddenly sell the very name of their home star, the practice of affixing such names to heavenly bodies is actually gaining acceptance!

Treating such majestic anchors of the Lord's creation as mere bill-boards strikes me as precisely the kind of short-sighted foolishness that New Canaan's founders hoped to escape.

Unfortunately, such unwise disregard for both His creation and His laws is the rule in the universe beyond our blessed home, not the exception. You cautioned when I left our home that I was stepping into a den of thieves. At the time I thought I was heeding your warnings and that I understood what awaited me, but I must admit I was terribly mistaken. I was prepared for the presence of sin and corruption, but I was wholly unprepared for the sheer breadth of it!

Sin and corruption permeate the very fabric of the society Man has built from himself amongst the stars. Before I left, I did not appreciate why our founders felt the need to divorce themselves from it so wholly; but a mere four months into my journey, I understand it all too well! Even men who are proclaimed "good" are inclined to conduct themselves in ways that ought to bring shame upon their families for generation!

Take, for example, my captain, Miss Odrida Chan. On the one-hand, she is liked and respected as an honest businesswoman both by her crew and by those with whom she does business. To the best of her ability she operates her vessel within the boundaries of the laws set forth by the Republic of Terra, and is does not tolerate violations of those laws by members of her crew. She has been unfailingly polite to me and respectful of my faith, even if she herself does not share it.

And yet, there is a core of wantonness to her that troubles me to contemplate! Overlook, for the moment, that she has not accepted Jesus Christ as her Lord and personal savior -- that denial, tragically, is all but ubiquitous here. Also, overlook for the moment that, as a healthy woman of twenty-seven terran standard years, she is well past the age when she ought to have accepted a husband and founded a family of her own. This may actually be attributable to and forgivable because of her extraordinary circumstances; her home was a man-made habitat in Alpha Centauri B named Mayberry Centauri, a place which was not unlike New Canaan. I say "was" because it is no more -- it was destroyed roughly five years ago by the negligence of the men tasked with keeping it in proper repair and its residents safe. Captain Chan's very world was annihilated; if she has not taken her proper place within her community, it is not unreasonable to suggest that she no longer has a community to take a place within.

I mentioned our ship is named "Mayberry Mitch" -- this is the name she bestowed upon it. I trust the source of the "Mayberry" half of that name is now self-evident. "Mitch" is the name of -- and please, forgive me for my vulgarity -- a lover she took during the days of Mayberry's fall. Not only was she not wed to this man, he was actually wed to another! Meaning that by permitting her into his bedroom, this man was in explicit violation of even this society's tragically lax moral laws!

What's more, she continues to flout those laws! This society has something called -- again, please pardon my vulgarity -- the "Code of Sexual Conduct," a contract all its citizens are expected to sign early in their adult lives. Signatories of this contract are, in accordance with Biblical law, permitted intimate relations only with their spouse. Presumably, by leaving entry into this contract at the discretion of individual citizens, the Republic hopes to give them the opportunity to "sow their oats" when they are young. It strikes me as overly-permissive, but certainly better than nothing.

As I'm sure you've surmised by now, Captain Chan has not signed this contract, and appears to have no intention of doing so -- again, note that she is twenty-seven years of age! By failing to sign, she has indeed invited social stigma upon herself -- and I will not repeat the insulting name by which such non-signatories are known!

Now, I do not wish to give you the impression that her ship is some kind of floating Gomorrah. She has not so much as hinted that she desires an inappropriate relationship with me or any other members of her crew -- you have no cause to fear for your son's purity. Nor has she, to my knowledge, invited paramours onto her ship. One wonders why, then, she does not simply sign the contract, as I have!

She has revealed to me that, while she does not presently have any relationships that would be in violation of the contract, she has had them in the past and expects to have them again in the future. She was quite adamant that she considers such conduct to be of concern only to herself and to whatever lover she has taken at the moment, and was not the least bit receptive to the notion that the Lord is indeed very concerned by her desecration of her own body and soul.

Sadly, she is not alone. Of the four of use who live on board a ship named for its captain's adulterous affair, I am the only one to have signed the aforementioned contract. And I am lead to believe that even among signatories, violations are oft received with a wink and a nod. Indeed, one may even find places where women of ill-repute are tolerated, even though their trade is illegal under any circumstances!

I am sorry, but I fear I cannot continue this line of discussion; it is leaving me quite flustered. I apologize if this frank discussion has offended you, but sins of the flesh are among the most obvious ways that both this society in general and my shipmates in particular have fallen well short of the Lord's teachings.

My other two ship-mates are, in their own ways, even worse than the Captain. The First Mate, Vu Morgan, conceals his scornful nature beneath a veneer of politeness. He has even gone so far as to dismiss the teachings of Jesus as "outdated superstition!"

But he is far superior company to Chief Engineer Muhammad Scarpazzi, who is -- please, I beg your forgiveness for speaking of an elder in this way! -- undoubtedly the foulest, most disagreeable person it has ever been my misfortune to encounter. And what's worse, he is my direct superior -- on any given day, he will be the person with whom I interact the most!

He is immoral, his words repugnant, his deeds loathsome. He is embittered and angry over the ruin that is his life, a ruin he has surely brought upon himself by his own conduct. He is desperately alone; no sensible woman will tolerate him for more than a few moments. He blasphemes as casually as he breathes, he over-indulges in spirits whenever the opportunity presents itself, he seeks out temptation like a man searching for shelter from a storm.

You might ask why I am not on my way to deliver this letter to you in person, to forsake this wicked place and dwell forevermore in New Canaan in the light of our Lord and Savior. I have been sorely tempted to do just that; it is a question that has oft kept me lying awake in my bed.

When I first set out on this voyage, it was with the intent of learning. Precious though New Canaan may be, it is a small place, a tiny part of the wonder of creation. I sought to see more of that creation myself, to learn more about the universe beyond our airtight walls.

And I'm still learning. Oh, how I am learning. Consider, for instance, Mr. Scarpazzi -- you will note that I did not speculate as to the reasons why Captain Chan retains his services. Those reasons are self-evident; for all his wretchedness as a man, his skills as an engineer are simply astonishing. I find I can barely keep track of how he diagnoses and corrects the myriad problems that plague this old vessel, yet when I do, I find my own knowledge of it growing by leaps and bounds.

And that is, in and of itself, a fascinating lesson. I am forced to associate with a man who I would have avoided under any other circumstances; and repellent though he may be, he has taught me a great deal. When I return to New Canaan, I intend to resume my position amongst the maintenance staff; what I have learned here shall increase my usefulness there a thousandfold. And as Captain Chan has taught me, the consequences of mechanical failure on-board a man-made habitat may be terrible indeed.

I am, of course, mindful that there are certain things the Lord does not want me to learn; the wisdom of Proverbs commanding us to shun the company of imbibers of wine and riotous eaters of flesh is never far from my heart. I know much of what I have written here will likely cause you great concern; it causes me worry as well. But you have raised me well; I shall not stray from the path of righteousness, regardless of what temptations are set before me. The Lord truly is my shepherd.

But what's more, I sometimes wonder whether the Lord intends for this journey to result in more than merely my own edification. These people have forgotten His teachings; to find Him again, our founders were right to turn there backs upon this place. But now that we have found The Lord again, is it right of us to turn our backs upon these people when they need us so obviously, so desperately?

Perhaps He does not mean for me to be a pilgrim; perhaps He intends that I become a missionary. Though they are lost souls, I truly believe that my shipmates can be Saved; Captain Chan and Mr. Morgan can be, at any rate.

I have found that, physically, this ship to be a far safer place than we had originally feared. The captain is fervent in her desire to avoid dangerous criminal elements, and Mr. Morgan, as a former elite soldier, is singularly skilled in keeping any such elements that appear well at bay. Mr. Scarpazzi's efforts, both through his own two hands and from what he has taught mine, keeps the ship in good repair and makes fatal mechanical failures highly improbable.

And yet, for all that, this ship is a spiritual wasteland. Perhaps I have been sent to guide them through that wasteland.

It is an easy thing to say, of course, but a much harder thing to live! They have turned their backs on Him, and will not be easy to lead back into the light. (Indeed, I sometimes wonder if Mr. Scarpazzi's explicit scorn and derisions of His teachings is not actually better than the tone of polite condescension I get from the captain and first mate; Mr. Scarpazzi's objections can at least be addressed, even though he does not care to listen.) I suspect that I shall have to spend a great deal of time earning their respect before they will be willing to look to me for spiritual guidance.

But more and more, I believe it is what He wants me to do. I suspect that I shall become like the husbandman of James 5:7, waiting for the precious fruit of the earth, and having long patience for it, until I finally receive the early and latter rains.

The path I have set upon looks longer with each step I take, but I intend to keep walking it. And I do not doubt that I shall be given the opportunity to do so; despite the monetary concerns that cause my captain to doubt how much longer she will be able to keep her precious ship flying, she is a tenacious and resourceful woman. I have no doubt that her ship will fly for as long as she desires, and that misguided though her morality may sometimes be, she will continue to conduct herself as she always has; with honesty and integrity.

And I intend to travel this path with her as long as the Lord permits me, until at last I have found the key that will permit me to reveal to her and others like her the wonder and glory of a life devoted to the King of Kings.

Speaking of my captain, she has just informed me that refueling is complete and we'll be passing through the aforementioned wormhole shortly. I shall mail this letter to you from Shangsun at the first opportunity.

Give my love to Marie; tell her that she is always in her elder brother's thoughts and prayers.

With love, your son,

Isambard