Free Not Dark Yet by Berit Ellingsen Page B

house-warming gift.”
    “Thank you!” he shouted. “That’s too kind of you. Would you like to come in for some tea?” He wasn’t certain if he would be able to make any tea, but felt he had to offer.
    “Thanks, I’m fine,” Mark said. “I have to hurry, Eloise and the children are waiting for me in the car. Take care now!”
    He managed to roll over, the bunched-up rug following his movements. Now he faced the ceiling, with the front of the stove rearing over him like a gawking passerby. From there he reached up, curled his fingers around the knob and got just enough leverage to twist it around to zero. The hiss from the nearly invisible blue flame that billowed around the ring in the back and the spattering from the pot faded. He leaned into the rug, its folds smelling of dust and mold. Then the white light caught up with him and he made certain not to make any strange or loud sounds.

12
    IN HIS DREAMS IT WAS PAST MIDNIGHT, BUT STILL not dark, with a golden shine behind the round mountains in the distance. The night was soft and mild, and soon sparrows would wake and sing. On the ground, crocus flowers shone violet, petals beady with dew, cupping their orange stamen. There was a breath of wind, like the touch from a hand, then the warmth of the pre-dawn landscape enveloped him again.
    The crocus pickers whispered to one another as they worked, smiling, laughing quietly. Their diaphanous robes fluttered in the air, indigo and purple hemmed with gold. They deposited their harvest on a carpet of woven silk in the middle of the field, for quick fingers to peel the thin petals and gain the stamens that shivered inside.
    At the edges of the meadow the crocus pickers’ children were tended to by siblings or elderly relatives. As he watched, the children grew old enough to participate in the work and joined their families on the flower field. A little while longer and those children had conceived children of their own, who also accompanied their parents to the meadow, and with time replaced them. In the stream that flowed past the meadow, the water gilt with predawn light, a heron lifted, spreading rings upon the surface.
    He woke, thinking about Eloise and Mark and their reasons for initiating the project.
    In the morning the head of the space organization’s program for manned exploration was interviewed on TV about the astronaut selection process. He watched it on the laptop using his phone as modem. Even here the network was fast enough to stream broadcast and video.
    “But is it right to spend all this money, technology, and brain power on sending people into space instead of feeding the billions who are starving, or giving the displaced new livelihoods and housing?” the TV host, a woman in her mid-fifties with brown hair cut in a thick bob, an ivory-colored silk blouse, and a large enamel necklace of daisies, asked.
    He scoffed, doubting that the TV host had experienced much hunger or displacement herself.
    The head of the space organization, a slim, middle-aged, salt-and-pepper-haired man in a dark suit, leaned close to the host, and winked. “Well, you know, we’re a lot cheaper to run than the defense program.”
    The TV host smiled.
    “We must of course reduce the hunger and poverty in the world, and help all those who have lost their homes in recent disasters, but the technology and discoveries from space find multiple uses in industry and innovation world-wide. The missions we have planned will benefit all people on Earth,” the head of the space organization concluded, and looked like he meant it.

13
    ONCE THE NEIGHBORS STARTED ON THE TASK, they cleared the heather in a few weeks. Their heavy machinery rumbled and grated even through the night, with the beams from the vehicles’ headlights passing over the panorama window in the cabin like curious glances. When it was dark outside he averted his eyes from the farmers’ noisy illumination, and during the day he avoided looking at the abrupt