Free The Gravity of Us by Phil Stamper Page B

deep-cut tank, mesh shorts, running shoes, and sunglasses. It’s a quick ath leisure look, and it’ll have to do. I step outside, and the refreshing air of an early summer morning hits me. The humidity seems to have disappeared, dew’s still on the grass, and things feel better already.
    While I’m walking, I feel myself picking up the pace to match my “city walking” style, but here … there’s nowhere to be, I have all the time in the world, and best of all, there are no tourists who need to be shoved out of the way. Win/win/win.
    So I slow my pace and read through the email in my mind. The letterhead was fancy, but was it there just to look scary? And the verbiage they used to explain what rule I broke, it didn’t even apply to me. The only thing I signed was a release form saying that StarWatch could post any videos or photos taken of me—that was required of everyone.
    “Hiya, friend!” someone shouts from the other side of the street. “Welcome to the neighborhood.”
    It’s Stephanie Jonasson, another of the candidates for the Orpheus V mission. I can’t remember what she does, but I know it has nothing to do with the actual navigation, so she’s not in the same field as Dad and Grace are.
    “Hi, Stephanie, right?”
    “Yep. And this is Tag,” she says, pointing down to her miniature Pomeranian, who is currently pawing my leg. “Say hi to Cal, Tag.”
    I bend down to pet the tiny dog. “Oh, right. I’ve seen Tag before—they did that Animal Planet documentary on him, right?”
    “Oh boy, you’ve got a fan!” she says to Tag.
    It’s weird when people talk to their dogs as if they’re humans, but I don’t say anything. The documentary comes back to me—it was a miniseries on famous pets, and an abnormally large amount of time was spent on Tag the Pomeranian.
    “Can I ask you … did StarWatch have any problems with the documentary? I know Animal Planet filmed on your property.”
    She laughs. “They have a problem with everything. But yes, I was forbidden from appearing in the documentary, my voice or face. They have a strict policy with the astronauts.”
    “With just the astronauts? I thought the families couldn’t join either.”
    “Well, they still threw a fit, but my wife Heather’s a lawyer. She pushed back until they eventually gave up, which is why she got to be in the documentary with our little boy here.” She pauses, and I see understanding dawn on her face. “Oh, let me guess, they’re not too happy about your announcement? I watched Shooting Stars last night and almost died when that jerk tried to show your dad up. But I was in tears by the end of it—I really can’t wait to meet your dad. He seems like a genuine guy.”
    “He is.” I smile, and the smile lingers for a bit as I bend down to give Tag a few more scratches.
    “StarWatch is, let’s say … a necessary evil. They make uslook good, and they bring a lot of interest into the program. It’s easier to get projects funded by the government when a subset of the country passionately cares.” She laughs. “I mean, sure, I wish America cared for better reasons, but I won’t complain. Don’t worry too much about StarWatch. Their bark is worse than their bite.”
    We part ways, and I’m still a little terrified, but there’s this energy pulsing through my veins. It’s the same one I felt earlier as I leaned against the dresser. Rebellion. If it worked with Heather Jonasson, it’d work for me. It will work for me.
    At least, I hope it will.
    With a surge of inner strength, I pull out my phone and open the FlashFame app. Sure, no one else is going to be up now, but I have to document this so people can watch it later. As I look into the front-facing camera, a confident grin hits my face.
    “Good morning! If you aren’t already subscribed to the Cal Letter, you’re going to want to fix that now, because tonight I’m going to send you the full text of my cease-and-desist letter from StarWatch. Yeah,