The arched image splayed across the dark green radar monitor grew larger, swallowing up the top half of the screen in a bright, flashing lime light. Like a slimy iridescence flopping around, oscillating with every passing sweep of the PATRIOT-17's radar. Billy Bob unbuckled the straps that secured his body to the lower division bumper car racing chair, stood up, and peaked out of the murky plexiglass window on the nose of the ship.
“Watchu' see, Billy Bob?” Jimmy John asked.
“Well, nothing. I don't see nothing. 'Cept for the Moon and all of the stars spread across the Milky Way Galaxy.”
“How many stars?” Cletus asked.
“Cletus, I don't know how many damn stars are out there. A couple zillion or something astronomical like that,” Billy Bob said. “Why don't you unbuckle and count them for yourself. You too, Jimmy John. Let's all try to get eyes on this rainbow looking arch thing that’s on the radar.”
Jimmy John and Cletus unbuckled and joined Billy Bob. They hitched up onto their tiptoes and peaked out of the window.
“How high is we right now, Billy Bob?” Cletus asked.
Billy Bob peaked at the control panel, scanning a collection of numbers displayed on a monitor in the bottom right. “Says we are 177,633 feet above the Earth's surface.”
Something that sounded like a dry heave eked out of Jimmy John's mouth, sending his behind straight back down onto the lower division bumper car racing chair. He sucked in the musty cabin air like he was breathing in and out through a plastic fast food straw.
“Geez, Jimmy John, you alright?” Billy Bob asked. “Didn't mean to startle ya.”
Jimmy John replied with a thumbs up, caught in between a fit of heavy heaves.
“Put your hands on your head. Get those lungs opened up,” Billy Bob said. “Cletus, what the hell are you mumbling over there?”
Cletus spun around on his tiptoes in a slow, tight circle. Peaking out of the plexiglass window.
“About 250 billion,” Cletus said.
“Huh?” Billy Bob muttered.
“250 billion. It ain't a zillion or something. It's 250 billion. Stars, roughly,” Cletus said.
“You really count all those stars right now?” Billy Bob asked.
“Course not,” Cletus said.
“So what… you some kind’a rocket scientist, Exo-Skeleton building-nuclear reactor making-rye whiskey cow tipping-naked Ken doll looking gray alien averting-mathematical genius?” Billy Bob asked.
“If you say so, Billy Bob. I just did some simple equations in my head, you know?”
“No, Cletus. I sure as hell do not know nothing about no simple astronomical equations to do in my head,” Billy Bob said.
“Basic stuff,” Cletus said. “Stars in an area, amount’a area across the sky, distance of the known Milky Way Galaxy. It's more an estimate than anything else.”
“You's one strange hillbilly,” Billy Bob said. “I think folks call folks like you an enigma.”
“Why thank yuh kindly, Billy Bob,” Cletus said, touching the tips of his fingers to his motocross helmet. Giving off a salute. “But I never really considered myself much of an enema. Seems a bit of a stretch to call me one’a them.”
“Enema? I said enigma you big dummy,” Billy Bob said.
“Whew!” Cletus said, swiping across his forehead. “Oh ok, yeah, sure. Enigma, yeah, that's more like it.”
Billy Bob glanced at the radar. The lime green rainbow shaped object flashed across the screen. Now swallowing up over two-thirds of the monitor. Fast approaching the crew of the PATRIOT-17. They took another quick observation through the plexiglass hull slung over their main cabin. The star and Moon pattern remained the same, flickering along with the oscillating atmosphere like both the natural and the artificial system were inextricably intertwined. Tied together across space. Permeating through the arrow of time.
“Cletus, this radar system is busted,” Jimmy John said.
“No sirree!” Cletus said. “I worked hard on it, one'a my best inventions.”
“I don't doubt that,” Jimmy John said. “It's a grand accomplishment, crafting a radar navigation system for a spacecraft. But sometimes the things we work the most hard on do not quite fully reach their true potential. Means we just learn, come right back, and do it even better the next time.”
“Sure, sure,” Cletus said, brushing away the air in front of him. “I get that. I'm always learning stuff. But this radar navigation system here... it's built from the best parts and pieces of equipment from across my farm. Some'a Betsy's stuff, too, which she wasn't too happy about.”
“A’course she wasn’t,” Jimmy John said.
“This radar detects everything though. Sometimes too much. Like tiny horseflies and bugs smaller than the eye can see when it’s naked, you know? Bugs you need a magnifying glass to gander.”
“Sometimes,” Billy Bob said, “things aren’t always what they seem. Sometimes… reality plays tricks on ya. Your mind pulls the wool over your eyes, so to speak. Like an illusion or delusion or something.”
“Like an illusional delusion?” Cletus asked.
“Yeah, Cletus, just like that. Something so simple and obvious. Hidden right beneath our hairy stinking noses the whole time. All it takes is a questioning fellow, an organized movement of sorts-“
“Like the Patriots!” Cletus shouted.
“That’s right,” Billy Bob said, “like the Patriots. Well, it takes an entire movement of American Patriots to overturn the old system of illusional delusion, as you say. An entire movement, united to destroy the corruption that hides the knowledge and the wisdom from the people. An entire movement to defeat the treasonous governments grip on truth. Its stranglehold on science and technology. On religion and ancient history.”
“Just like we did building the PATRIOT-17,” Jimmy John said.
“Correct, Jimmy John,” Billy Bob said. “Today, the crew of the PATRIOT-17 took a little of our evil government’s power back. And we’ll give this knowledge and power right back to the people. To the American people. To the Patriot’s all across the world.”
“Power to Earth’s people!” Jimmy John said.
“You got it, Jimmy John,” Billy Bob said. “Patriots are in control.”
“Sure are,” Cletus said. “But all I’m saying is that my radar navigation system works. Top notch, advanced Patriot technology. None’a that weak government crap.”
“Well…” Billy Bob said, peering down towards the radar screen, “we’re all gonna test that out here in about 33 seconds. Quick, buckle up.”
“You’ll see,” Cletus said. He plopped onto the lower division bumper car racing chair and slipped the harness over his body. “Then you’ll understand what I mean when I says advanced Patriot knowledge and technology.”
The white cheese ball of a Moon gleamed bright before the black backdrop of the Milky Way Galaxy. Its 250 billion stars, as Cletus estimates, glimmered like flickering fireflies swirling through the cool, crisp twilight air.
Billy Bob took one final look at the radar. “Alright, here we go,” he said. “Countdown to impact in… 5… 4… 3-
-2… 1,” Billy Bob said, seated in his lower division bumper car racing chair. He stood and peaked out of the plexiglass window. “Looks the same out there,” he said, plopping back onto the chair. “So much for that lime green blob. Cletus, that radar is busted.”
“Umm, fellers,” Cletus said, “we heading back the way we came. Back to the Earth.”
“What the hell you talking ‘bout, Cletus?” Billy Bob asked. He glanced at the radar screen. The nose of the PATRIOT-17 faced the opposite direction. The lime green rainbow blob on the monitor receded back the way it came. Crawling back into the invisible ether.
“Fellers, you feel a little strange, too?” Jimmy John asked. “What happened?” He patted his hands over his body like he was doing some kind of Macarena dance number.
Billy Bob unbuckled his harness, stood up on wobbly legs, and peered out of the plexiglass window. The ship was hurling back to the Earth, picking up speed. He looked up. Back towards the Milky Way Galaxy. The image was the same. The Moon still shined in its great white luminescence. Still the centerpiece of the estimated 250 billion twinkling stars surrounded by the black abyss of dark matter and energy. But this time, two gaping holes had appeared on either side of the Moon, like a bullet had pierced through a tractor door, reversed course, and came straight back the way it came. It was the like PATRIOT-17 rocket had punched two holes through some kind of black star screen. On the other side of the two holes… was a blank background of plain, ordinary whiteness. Whiter and brighter than the Moon. The whitest white that Billy Bob had ever seen. In close proximity to the two holes, the backdrop of the Milky Way Galaxy flickered. On, off. The galaxy flashed, stuttered. The Moon and the stars appeared and disappeared. Like a television set searching for a satellite signal.
“Billy Bob?” Cletus said, with a trembling quiver trailing behind his voice. “What is it? What just happened to us?”
“I… I don’t know… It was just… nothing. It didn’t feel like nothing,” Billy Bob said. His breath quickened, heart pounded against the inside of his chest like it was trying to escape from his body. “It felt like timelessness. Emptiness. Less than emptiness. A void. Like a nothingness far beneath an empty void. Like a death beyond death.”
“I felt it, too…” Cletus said, his voice quiet and solemn.
“It was like I didn’t exist no longer,” Jimmy John said.
Billy Bob checked the radar screen. On the monitor, the massive arched lime green blob zipped away. Retreating faster than it appeared. Vanishing off of the screen in a matter of moments as the PATRIOT-17 zipped back towards the Earth.
Billy Bob slipped his hand beneath the opening of his helmet helmet and rubbed his eyes. Blinked them rapidly. Trying to recapture that sliver of consciousness that had vanished from his mind. Trying to grab hold of that lost moment of time trapped within that white hole of nothingness wrapped around the outside of the Earth like some kind of informationless prison. Some kind of lifeless shell. He gazed up towards the galaxy. The two punctured white holes in the star screen grew smaller, smaller as the ship hurled back down to Earth. The flickering image of the Moon appeared more and more solid, like it had been patched up, repaired. Like the two gaping holes had been compensated for through some unseen technological mechanism.
Silence descended over the cockpit for what seemed like an eternity. And then, an ear-splitting siren buzzed from the dashboard, combined with a flashing light that shrouded the cabin in a blanket of red. Shaking the crew from their trance. A violent rumble quaked through the PATRIOT-17, rattling the Patriot’s down to their bones.