The Station, Part 23

How did it get here? There is the possibility, however likely, that this tree is not an acacia, just another life form that happened to look just like one. A convergent evolution if you will. These kinds of things occur on Earth where two unrelated organisms will evolve to look similar based on similarity of environment. That’s assuming, that this particular form of life evolved here in this savannah. I think it did, but the savannah was not here. I don’t know, maybe I’m just getting too far ahead of myself. Without anything to contradict me, no evidence to support my hypothesis, I’d have to say yes, indeed. This is a motherfuckin’ acacia tree from outer space. Did I just blow your mind?

The tree I used to climb was a little smaller, but that may be in part due to the fact that I’m quite a bit taller than I was when I last climbed it. I was about six or seven years old I guess. Mom and Dad were one of those eccentric types. Country folk my great grandfather would say. Our closest neighbor was about a kilometer away. Even then, that was highly unusual. The only people who lived in the so-called country were either Luddites or employed by the Global Environmental Agency. My parents fell into the latter. So while my classmates and friends lived in the various metropolises, I got to live like my ancestors. I could open my back door and step on real grass and not that bioengineered stuff that people in the city grew. We had natural trees too, a lot of them. Mom and Dad, being the caretakers that they were, didn’t have a single gene therapy or engineered plant with their designer leaves and fruit. Nothing but what nature offered could be found around our home. And I didn’t know any different. And I didn’t care. There was an autumn where I seemed to have spent more time off the ground than on it, sitting in the crook, watching birds fly by, pretending they were all seagulls, frigate birds, pelicans, albatross, any kind of bird you’d find soaring over the ocean. And my acacia was my gigantic sailboat, the crook of it was sometimes my crow’s nest, other times the helm. It all depended on where my imagination would take me that day. My six-year-old imagination was all encompassed with the likes of Robinson Crusoe, Captain’s Courageous and Mysterious Island. You could say I was obsessed with nautical-themed works. Come to think of it, I never did imagine being a pirate or anything about pirates. For me, the ocean was like outer space. Even though we’d explored the depths of all oceans, I still wanted to believe there were parts of the world no man had gone before, where I could go someday. And I was convinced that those places were far below even the bottom of the oceans.

Romantic huh? One of my fondest memories of all is of me, sitting in that acacia on a very cool day, eating a sandwich. I can even remember what it was. Peanut butter and banana. The bananas came from a small grove by the house of course. But that memory is still with me. Absolutely nothing happened. But it was for me, the perfect day. I think it was that particular day that tipped the balance when I volunteered to be among the first to man the new Frontier program. I wanted to finally explore that deeper than deep ocean. Well, Robbie, looks like you got your wish. And now that you’ve gotten it? What do you think? The jury is still out. But rumor has it that this explorer is getting close to having his fill. He wants to go home.

But strangely enough, I’m more at ease here. Must be my seeing a familiar face, such as it is.

So what is this then? A facsimile, a wild coincidence? Who the hell knows. Standing here in the lunar lit night, or at least its approximation, I’ve been able to turn off the suit lights and look around me with the naked eye. My ambient speakers are turned up. I’m listening to the night sounds. It’s nothing but wind rustling the acacia branches and a hiss over the field of grass. This grass seems to stretch on forever, and now that my eyes have adjusted, there are more trees visible in the distance. Overhead, There is a cloudy sky. No moon, just the glow that comes from everywhere up there. I wonder how that is possible. No moon, no stars, but apparently there is moisture up there. How does that work? So many questions. All of them can wait.