Relinquish the footholds ...

Francois’s image cut in and out on the wall then settled. The connection wasn’t brilliant with the wind gusting outside. Harriet had her evening meal ready on her lap.

‘Bonsoir, my English rose,’ he said. ‘Oh, you look a bit, how do you say it, glum?’

It’s been a bit of an odd week, Francois.’ She paused. ‘I have some news to tell you. Edgar Tusker was at genie feenie on Thursday. He’s offered me a new position.’

‘Be careful of that man! You know that half the males reared since the fleas bear a strange resemblance to him!’ Francois chuckled.

Harriet ignored his innuendo. ‘There is also a new carer at the Lych Gate. He’s recently arrived, a refugee from the east. His whole city got washed away. Why don’t we hear about anything like that now?’

‘What’s the point? It only makes people miserable. Just look at your face.’ The image on the wall reversed. She was mirrored, chewing slowly on her biome enriching protein bar. 

‘Stop that! Don’t fiddle with the controls!’ Francois reappeared, laughing, a black beret sitting jauntily on a mop of orange hair. 

‘OK, nice touch, you just can’t resist clowning can you,’ she said

‘Well at least I got a little giggle out of you,’ retorted Francois. ‘Anyway, you haven’t told me what this carer is like. Could he care for you?’ Francois rested his chin on his bridged hands. 

‘Well he is tall and very polite, and well, caring, I suppose,’ she drifted off. 

‘How very apt.’

‘He laid out one of the residents, and did it so nicely, it made me realise how insensitive I have become.’

‘But you always were. You’ve never been polite to me.’ An exaggerated down turned mouth covered his lower face. 

‘You don’t count! I’m not even sure you are real!’ she said. Francois feigned shock, a cartoon pistol appearing in his left hand which he pointed at his temple. Bang. Red dollops of blood splattered on the wall obscuring his image. As they slowly slid down, up popped his face, this time wearing a cowboy hat and a Colt 45 in each hand.  ‘Francois, I’m really not in the mood.’

‘Tell me about your new job then, misery guts!’

‘Tusker wants the first cohort of carapace children taken to the moon. We’ve reached a time when we can see if his plan is going to work. I guess I’m going to be collecting data on how they cope, both psychologically and physically. It sounds exciting, but I’m feeling, well, a bit apprehensive.’

‘Ah, I have just the thing for our evening’s viewing. It’s a very old documentary called “Relinquish the footholds”. It is about an experiment  from the very early space laboratories.’

Harriet watched as a cage containing a dozen mice drifted between two astronauts floating in light space fatigues. It cut to their faces close to the bars looking in. The commentary droned. 

Half the mice are clinging on for dear life, intimidated by the feeling of weightlessness, disturbed and confused. The film cut to a mouse, it’s surprisingly human-like claws gripping tight to a pair of bars, its head pushed through the gap, its fear palpable. While others embrace the sensation and enjoy the adventure. Cut to a mouse somersaulting across the cage while another drifts above it, limbs spread-eagled.

One of the astronauts talked to camera in a studio environment back on earth. “The mouse population divided pretty evenly between the fearful and the adventurous. You could see which ones were going to thrive. Interestingly, the fearful, the ones that couldn’t release their grip on the bars, declined quickly and died within days.”

A new talking head, white haired, eminent-looking. “This experiment has become emblematic of man’s quest. Are we ready to leave this planet, with all the risk it entails? Do we have what it takes? A mountaineer on an ascent up a cliff face has to give up the security of his well placed toe lodged in a crevice before he can find a new home for it.  The decision involves risk, the process involves risk. But he can’t reach the summit without undertaking this a thousand times, maybe ten thousand times. Are we ready as a species to relinquish the footholds?”

Harriet sat quietly, considering. She was to be given her own experiment to manage, but this time with human children not rodents. It would be a great responsibility. But was she ready to take the risk and give up her own secure footholds?