Scott William Carter - A Dark Planetarium

Smashwords Edition. Electronic editionpublished by Flying Raven Press, December 2010. Copyright 2010 byScott William Carter. Originally appeared in Indy Men's Magazine,December 2003. All rights reserved, including the right ofreproduction, in whole or in part in any form. This short story isa work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents eitherare products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously.Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living ordead, is entirely coincidental. For more about Flying Raven Press,please visit our web site at http://www.flyingravenpress.com .

Scott William Carter

When they arrived at Portland's newplanetarium, they found the clerk in the ticket booth affixing ahastily-written sign to the glass window. The storm had workeditself into a rage by this time, and a cold rain mixed with sleetcrackled against their black umbrella. The gray, mottled skies hadbrought on an early darkness, and Jack could not read the window'ssign until he was nearly up to the booth. No shows today.Equipment malfunction.

The clerk, a boy with a fuzz mustache andbleached blond hair, put the last piece of clear tape on the sign,then glanced at Jack. He frowned and flicked off the light in thebooth. This replaced the boy's face with Jack's own reflection -- apale, gaunt face that did not match up with the image he had ofhimself. There was a time not long ago that he was a healthy,rosy-cheeked man, not this wasted thing lost in the folds of histrench coat.

Next to him, bundled in his green parka,Travis held tightly to Jack's hand. Wherever they went these days,they always held hands. His son's balance was one of the firstthings to go.

Inside the booth, a vertical strip of lightappeared in the darkness. The clerk was leaving through a backdoor.

"Wait," Jack said.

There was a pause, then a voice came back:"We're closed. Sorry."

"But... hold on a minute, will you? Canwe talk about this?"
The clerk's face appeared in the window. He was so incrediblyyoung, Jack thought. He was trying to think of what to say whenTravis squeezed his hand.

"Daddy?"

Travis looked up at him with vacant,unseeing eyes. His sight was mostly gone now -- only a vagueawareness of light and dark remained.

"Just a minute, son."

"What's wrong, Daddy?"

"Nothing. It's all right."

"Are we going to see the stars?"

"Yes, yes." Jack looked at the clerk, whosebland expression had not changed. "We drove over four hours to gethere. Isn't there something we can do?"

"I'm sorry, sir," the clerk said. "Theequipment is broken. It should be working tomorrow."

"We won't be here tomorrow."

"I'm sorry, sir."

Jack felt his anger rise at the nonchalancein the clerk's tone, but he suppressed it. There was no time foranger these days. He had long since proven that anger was only ahindrance to making their way down the list. They had seen thecobalt blue waters of Crater Lake. They had flown a box-kite on theOregon coast. They had done so much in the last few weeks, butthere was still much to do. The planetarium was one more thing, andhe could not let his own anger prevent him from making the clerkunderstand how important it was they do this.

He held up a finger for the clerk to wait,then took his son around the booth to the cast-iron bench under theoverhanging roof. He seated Travis on the bench and handed him theumbrella.

"I'll be right back," he said.

"My head hurts, Daddy."

"Is it really bad? Do you want to liedown?"

"No, I want to see the stars. I want to seeSaturn and Jupiter."

"Well, that's what we'll do then."

Jack returned to the ticket window, blinkingaway the rain that ran down his forehead into his eyes. The clerk,wearing a bored expression, had his arm on the counter and restedhis head against his fist.

"What's the ticket price?" Jack asked.

The clerk sighed. "I told you, theequipment--"

"I'll pay you the ticket price and give youtwenty bucks. How's that?"

This made the clerk pause. He pursed hislips, then shook his head. "I could lose my job, sir. Look, thestuff is broken. Seriously."

"That's all right," Jack said. "We want togo in anyway."

"But why?"

Jack swallowed. He hated how the events ofhis life had conspired to bring him to this point, when he had toshare the intimate details of his own pain with this stupid kid whohad probably never suffered, who had never known loss or pain, whocould not possibly understand why it was so important that Jacktake his son inside.

"What is your name?" he asked the clerk.

"Robert," the kid said, sighing. "You wantto know the name of my supervisor, I guess?"

Jack shook his head. "Robert, my son has aninoperable brain tumor. This is one of the things I want him to dobefore he dies."

He wondered at first if the clerk wouldthink it was a bluff, but either the thought had never crossed thekid's mind or there was no denying the conviction in Jack's voice.The boredom was gone. In its place was something Jack hated evenmore: pity.

"Oh, I thought -- I didn't -- I'm sorry,sir," the kid stammered.

"It's all right. Can we come in?"

"Oh... well, it's not working. Like Isaid--"

"My son is blind now," Jack said. "Hewouldn't be able to see it anyway."

Jack saw the question forming on the kid'slips: Then why? But the kid didn't ask. He just nodded andpointed to the glass doors next to the booth. Jack went back to thebench.

"Are we going inside?" Travis asked.

"Yes," Jack said. "They were closed, butthey are going to make an exception for us."

The clerk rattled open the deadbolt andopened the glass doors. Jack took his son's hand and led himinside. The entry room had a high ceiling, and the room was nearlyas cool as outside.

"Sorry about the temp," the clerk said,locking the doors behind them. "They turn down the heat when we'reclosed."

"That's all right."

Wet tennis shoes squeaked across the tiledfloor. Jack had not told the clerk, but he had another, strongerreason for wanting to come inside. He had not yet told his son hewas going to die. He was waiting for the right time. He did not howto break it to Travis, especially since Jack was an atheist whobelieved there was nothing waiting for them after death, but heknew he could only go on for so long pretending the headaches andthe blindness would go away. And he refused to lie. He wouldnot give the boy false hope.

But how could he explain what the wordoblivion meant?

Walnut paneling decorated the far wall, andthe kid led them to a double door that was wide open. In the dark,circular theater within, Jack saw rows of empty, felt-backedchairs. The kid stopped at the door.

"I'd like to let you stay awhile," he said."But we're supposed to be closed. My girlfriend, she's waiting forme outside."

Jack smiled. "We won't stay long," hesaid.

The kid nodded. "You want the doorclosed?"

"If you wouldn't mind."

"Sure, I'll wait until you get to yourseat."

Jack led Travis down the carpeted isle,taking a pair of seats somewhere in the middle. They had no soonersat down when the kid shut the door, sealing them in darkness. Jackwas sure that usually there were at least lights along the aisle,but the clerk had left them off. The darkness was so complete thatJack could not see his hand in front of his face, nor his sonsitting next to him. High above them, he heard rain tapping on theroof.

"I'm scared, Daddy."