The Dream Life of Astronauts Read Online Free PDF Page B

guys who went up there that walking around on the moon is like nothing on this planet, that’s for sure.” He seemed to smile right at Frankie as he said this.
    “Any other questions?” the librarian asked.
    Evans’s jaw looked smooth, but bore a five o’clock shadow. Only one of his cheeks had a dimple, which may just have been from the way he was holding his face. Frankie raised his hand, but the old man spoke up again:
    “So you’re saying there’s no system in place for when an astronaut vomits?”
    “Not that I’m aware of,” Evans said, and the old man glanced at the other audience members, seemingly appalled.
    The librarian cleared her throat and said in a trembling but authoritative voice, “Let’s have another question.”
    She pointed to a woman who didn’t ask anything but said, “God made the Earth for people to live on, not leave.”
    “How about this young man,” Clark Evans said, nodding toward Frankie. “You’ve got a question, don’t you, buddy?”
    His face, Frankie thought, was a little like Buck Rogers’s. He had Han Solo’s shaggy brown hair. Remington Steele’s alluring gaze. It was the face Frankie saw every week on the back of the local TV guide in the ad Evans took out for his real estate business. Frankie straightened up in his chair and asked, “Can you comment on Gordon Cooper’s UFO sighting and the photos he took during his Mercury orbit?”
    “That’s a great question,” Evans said. “And, you know, I actually have an interesting story about that event—but it’s a little long to tell right now.” He turned to the librarian. “We’re about out of time, aren’t we?”
    When she confirmed this, Evans stood and pulled his wallet out of his blazer, and from it he removed a small stack of business cards. He stepped forward and passed them out to each of the five members of the audience, encouraging them to call if they were ever buying or selling a home in the area. There was a small clatter of applause.
    Frankie was unlocking his bicycle from the rack in front of the library when he heard a voice say, “I hope you didn’t think I was dodging your question, buddy.” He looked up and saw Evans standing several feet away, holding his car keys. The man had on a pair of aviator sunglasses and he was smiling. He had very white teeth.
    “That’s okay,” Frankie said.
    “I’d love to tell you that story sometime. These public talks are a circus. It’s refreshing to run into someone who has a genuine interest in the space program.”
    The “circus” had only involved an audience of five, but Frankie was grateful for the chance to talk to the astronaut one-on-one. “I think there was a cover-up and maybe Cooper was in on it—only because he was scared. I think maybe he was afraid NASA would get mad if he talked too much about what he saw.”
    Evans held out his hand. “I’m Clark,” he said.
    Frankie’s skinny arm snapped like a rubber hose in the man’s grip.
    “You live on the island?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Good for you. No need to
sir
me, by the way. Do you want to be an astronaut?”
    “Not for the government.”
    “Well, there aren’t too many independent companies out there, though if there were, I’m sure they’d be better run than NASA.”
    “Do you think we’re descended from aliens?”
    “I haven’t given it much thought. How old are you, buddy?”
    “Sixteen. Almost seventeen.”
    “How about that. Well, listen, you still have the card I gave you?”
    Frankie nodded and pulled it out of the back pocket of his jeans.
    “That number on the front is my office,” Evans said, taking the card from Frankie’s hand. He turned it over, clicked a ballpoint pen, and began to write. “But this is my home number. Why don’t you give me a call sometime, and maybe we can get together and talk—about space.” He handed the card back to Frankie. “Ever been inside the Vehicle Assembly Building?”
    “Not inside it, no.”
    “We could tour