My Life as an Afterthought Astronaut by Bill Myers

Author:Bill Myers
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook, book
Publisher: Thomas Nelson
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6

Batter Up!

Getting into the spacesuit, or the Extravehicular Mobility Unit (see how educational this is becoming?), wasn’t as tough as I thought. The hardest part was standing there for a few minutes longer than forever, just breathing through some sort of face mask.

“It cleans the nitrogen out of your blood,” O’Brien explained.

“That’s good,” I said, once again having no idea what he was talking about.

Finally, he handed me something like a pair of long johns that had a bunch of little tubes running all through it.

“Oh boy,” I said, “spaghetti underwear.”

“Slip it on,” he ordered. “Those little tubes carry water to help keep your body cool.”

Next came the bottom half of the actual spacesuit. It was pretty stiff and bulky, and it had little straps inside to adjust it to my height.

Since I’m not exactly your most full-grown astronaut, I had to cinch those straps up tight. But other than that, there were no problems . . . until I looked down to where my toes should be and only saw my heels. “My feet are on backward!” I cried.

O’Brien looked up from his own suit and sighed. “It’s not your feet, Wilbur, it’s your suit. You got into it backward.”

“Oh, right.” I said, laughing nervously. “I knew that.” I quickly turned around and tried again.

Next came the top half of the suit. Like the bottom half, it was also pretty bulky. And like the bottom half, there were only two ways of putting it on. So after putting it on the wrong way (what else is new), I turned around and got into it the right way.

Next came the gloves. Two ways, two tries. This was getting monotonous.

A moment later O’Brien floated over to me. “On your chest here is a little computer readout. It tells you how much oxygen you have left and how strong your battery is. These suits are good for seven hours, so we’ll have plenty of time for the exercise.”

“Exactly what exercise are we talking about?” I asked.

“We’re staging an emergency drill on the shuttle. Space is a complete vacuum, so first we’ll depressurize the cabin. Next we’ll transport the crew from in there”—he pointed to the mid-deck—“to a cable out there”—he pointed toward the hatch leading outside.

“Not me,” I cried. “I’m not going out there!” It really wasn’t a statement, more like a pleading and begging for my life. It’s not that I’m afraid of outer space, it’s just that heights make me nervous. And being two-hundred miles above the earth is definitely on the high side of heights.

“Don’t worry,” O’Brien said. “You will be inside the shuttle the whole time—up on the flight deck.”

A wave of relief washed over me. “What about you?” I asked.

“Once I hook the others to the cable line connecting the shuttle to the station, I’ll come in to join you.”

More waves, more relief.

O’Brien grabbed something like a cap and slipped it over my head. It had headphones that fit over my ears and little microphones on both sides of my mouth.

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