Kaylie, From the Stars

I had the idea for this story knocking around in my head for a while. When the next contest came up in a certain writing forum to which I belonged, I promised myself I would write the story if the prompt matched the idea. As though by providence, the prompt that month turned out to be “When the Clock Stops.” As you’ll read, you’ll find I didn’t have a choice but to get started. I wrote the story inside of 600 words, submitted it, and won the contest that month. I added a little to it since then, and was dismayed when “Interstellar” came out a year later with a similar idea running through the movie. All the same, I enjoyed writing the story and I hope you enjoy reading it.

Kaylie, From the Stars

I hugged her hard when she saw me off, afraid I might hurt her.

"Why you crying, daddy?" Barely three, and she had the mind to wipe a tear from my face.

"Because I love you so much, sweetheart."

We didn't tell her. We couldn't. It wasn't as if I wouldn't be with her... not really.

"Like an angel?"

I smiled. "Even better."

The ship launched. I left Earth's embrace. But it wasn't until the Hendrik thrusters ignited, taking us to near-light speed, that I felt the separation. My kiss goodbye was now forever.

It was time to work. Everyone got up and headed for the lab, the bridge, the mess hall, or the medical bay. I was expected in the engine room. The others in my room unstrapped from their seats and headed out. Like it was another day at work. I guess it was their way of handling it. I couldn't do it that way. I had to contact her.

I opened my computer, prayed the warp signal function like they said.

"Hi, sweetheart."

The second I pushed send, a page of text appeared. My Kaylie was starting preschool.

Not so bad, I thought. Only a year. An hour since I said goodbye to her. Maybe five minutes since the thrusters came alive. Only a year in Kaylie's life. There was still time.

I replied with haste, strained for the words, the right advice; deleting, retyping.

As quickly as I sent, she replied that preschool was done, told me all about it.

Each of us on this ship would have countless pages, novels of letters from family long gone when we returned. My wife was probably hard at work already. As was Kaylie. All of them would be there for me. How could I ask that of my child, without being there for her? When all she needed was a single day of my life?

I had started typing when they called me over the intercom. Frustrated, I wished her a good vacation.

I opted for a break as early as I could, heaving as I returned to my computer. I asked about her summer.

Two more years. Kindergarten had come and gone.

"How's first grade? Having fun?"

"I aced everything! Summer time!!"

The lights flickered as the ship rumbled. People started running, shouting. They'd be calling me back before long. I looked back at the screen. The signal had broken.

I almost went mad. I punched buttons and clicked on things helplessly, my fingers trembling.

The sound of my name rang in my ears from the speakers on the ceiling: again and again, with rising impatience. They'd come for me soon.

Finally, the signal. Messages were waiting for me.

"Merry Christmas, daddy!"

There were five of these.

I rushed a long letter to her, cursing every moment I spent to wipe the sweat from my eyes, cursing every error I didn't have the time to fix.

Kaylie's instantaneous response informed me that she had the talk with mom about my mission; that she understood; that she admired me. And that she loved me.

I couldn't read it all. We didn't have the time.

"Mark, let's go!" one of the engineers shouted into the room. "We've all got families, pal!"

I sent her as detailed a response as I could... two lines... kicked myself every time a new thing I should have said came to mind as I made my way to the engine room.

She was a young woman now. And there was so much more I could have done. Every strike of my wrench was another exam. Every fixed coupling, a semester.

I found a moment to steal away, grateful for the timing: her boyfriend had just proposed.

"Congratulations, sweetheart! What's his name?"

"Ryan. We're naming our son Mark!"

My grandson was entering preschool by the time I responded. He was reading far ahead of his level and could spell "hippopotamus" backwards. Kaylie sent me pictures. He had brown hair like mine and green eyes like my wife. And a smile like my daughter's.

As I reveled in my pride, she sent again--- trouble with her marriage.

"I know this will have been resolved, one way or the other, by the time you get this, dad. I know it will probably be a memory by the time you read the first word. It's okay. It doesn't matter. I just want you to know."

"Mark!" the engineers called angrily. "Come on!"

I grew more bitter every moment they held me in that room: pouting, cursing, scowling at everyone who came within ten feet of me. After a few hours, it got so bad they threw my useless ass out early. It didn't faze me. All I cared about was getting back to my daughter.

"I've waited so long to hear from you, daddy!"

Now my Kaylie was a grandma too. I had missed her retirement. But I was there for her now. Forever.

"Sometimes I worry your messages will stop."

I swore to her they wouldn't, and they never did. I chatted with her until the day was over, when the big-eyed girl I was holding in my arms this very morning turned eighty-seven years old, lying in bed, barely strong enough to type.

"I'll be with you soon, dad."

So many things spun in my head when those words appeared. I couldn't control my thoughts anymore. The keys faded from my vision. I panicked. If I didn't calm down, I couldn't say goodbye. That made it worse: my mind spun faster. My head pounded. I saw Kaylie: her coming into the world; her first day of school; graduation; college; marriage; her family; retirement...

All the thoughts and visions and sounds crashed at once. I still remember the explosion in my ears. And then there was peace: an acceptance I didn't understand. Everything was clear. I had changed, but I didn't know in what way.

I typed--- quickly, but calm--- "I have to sleep now, baby girl."

"Me too."

"Goodnight, pumpkin."

A pause. There had never been a pause. Not for a second. Not once. And I knew the day was over.

I turned from the monitor, faced my empty bed.

The sound.

I turned again.

"Goodnight, daddy. I love you."