Project Firestorm

Mercury, Nevada
1977

One of life's great hyperboles was to describe the place you lived as the middle of nowhere. It was the lament of those who grew up in the rural backwaters of the United States, or similarly isolated communities elsewhere in the world, but unless you happened to hail from the frozen wastes at the heart of Antarctica, everyone was from somewhere, and every somewhere had its own quirks and charm, it's own silver lining to the gloominess of youth and solitude.

Take this place, for example. Mercury, Nevada. What had once been Base Camp Mercury was now a thriving city in its own right, populated by the scientists and military officers who allowed the Nevada Test Site to function. Though a closed city, located on federal land owned by the Department of Energy, and protected on their behalf by the Department of Defense, the people of Mercury managed to instill a kind of open hospitality to their community that was foreign to anyone familiar with life on military bases. Everyone was in this together, everyone striving for a greater good, and a brighter tomorrow, everyone a true believer on the idea that they were helping to make the world a better place.

Then there were the stories. Being regaled with tales of skill and prowess by military veterans and test pilots was one thing, but the scientists? They were something else. Stories of the Manhattan Project; of Mercury, and Gemini, and Apollo; from people who'd watched mankind first split the atom, or who'd been there the first time NASA ignited the boosters on the Saturn V. A few months ago there had been a party, a celebration in the streets as news and footage from NASA's first test flights of their new orbiter rolled into town. It was moments like that which reinforced the kinship and commonality: shared amusement that NASA had named their first space shuttle Enterprise; the mutual delight the night that Star Wars had been screened at the social club, and everyone's worlds had changed forever. That was the future that everyone strove towards, an entire city dedicated to propelling humanity into a world of X-Wings, and lasers, and transporter beams.

Watching through the slightly dusty and scuffed windshield of his military jeep as Mercury slowly awoke, Captain Ronald R. Raymond couldn't help but smile. Though only a test pilot, there merely to realise the genius smarter men - a fact Doctor Stein was all too happy to remind him of - he still felt lucky to be part of something so bright, and hopeful; to be a small piece, one small step towards the future they all craved. It was a sensation he was growing comfortably accustomed to: his hand moved from the gear shift, a moment spared to idly toy with the ring gracing his companion's finger before her hand was drawn towards his lips, a gentle kiss placed against her soft, ivory skin.

"I love you, Katie," he said softly, his smile changing as the gentle warmth of his eyes met the crystal clarity of hers. "Have I told you that yet today?"