The Space Jerk
by The Egg Party
‘...that’s what she said,’ said Allison.
She turned to face Liz. She had been staring out the observation window for the entirety of her monologue. It was a hard sight to look away from; a lone man in a space suit who was attached to the end of a tangled umbilical cord. The lone string was all that connected the man to International Space Station(ISS). Without someone suited with him, his recovery, if disaster occurred, would be almost impossible. The EVA Rescue jet boosters were removed in order to install the other various mechanisms in the altered suit. The tether was the only thing that was stopping him from floating away into outer space. However this outcome was unexpected. There were greater dangers that faced the man, Eric.
Allison and Liz were discussing a recent conversation that Allison had with her mother, Ruth, in between talking about the spectacle. Before talking about Allison's familial troubles, they had discussed and ridiculed Eric's quest; they had already talked at length about his stupid spacesuit. Liz described it as a reverse cod piece. Anti-clockwork Orange.
‘Well she may be your mother but you can feel free to tell her to fuck right off,’ said Liz.
‘She really was stressing that sex is a necessary part of every person’s life. But that was just the start of what became a long and disjointed rant,’ said Allison.
‘You know, the thing is, she has a dated worldview. Furthermore most people who do not have a dated worldview have just a worldview. None of them have been on a space station. None of them have met Eric. I wouldn't touch that man with a 85 ft braided steel cable with a retractable reel,’ said Liz.
Allison laughed. ‘Okay. So a world view is unnecessary right now. So what does a space view look like?’
They both looked out as Eric had finally worked out his adapted space suit. He had lifted the hatch which he had created in the front of the suit that contained a complete seal, running around his belly, down his legs and through his peritoneum. After fully detaching the cover, he was, they presumed, imagining some space babe to which he could achieve and sustain a full erection.
Hours earlier, Liz and Allison had walked in on him shaving his undercarriage with meticulous care. They had not seen such an intense look of concentration on the face of their colleague in a very long time.
‘That,’ said Liz as she pointed out to Eric the spaceman.
‘Do you think he will do it?’ asked Allison.
‘I really hope so, if only so he will stop talk about it,’ said Liz.
‘I miss having other company on the station. I wish Rinko were still on board. Or Matt. Or even if ground control kept us better company, really,’ said Allison.
'Well we cannot control geopolitics. You know that and you know the reasons for the station being understaffed. Houston is a mess along with the rest of the USA. The space program has gone to shit. I miss the old days of glory for the space program, the height of exploration from NASA. And now what do we have? Eric is what we have. And no, your mother has it wrong, your damn vagina won’t atrophy. Even if he is the last man in our world, forget about it. She just wants you to be with him for the money. Focus on science,’ said Liz.
‘Could you imagine if he succeeded and his seed were to, however inconceivably, land on a planet and be the genesis for a new planet of life?’ asked Allison.
‘Wrong type of science to focus on there, Allison. I want to get back to watching the mould cells. We need some more figures from the microgravity tank. The directionality and geometry of the cell tissue needs to be compared with the figures we just received from the last batch,’ said Liz.
‘Yeah, the results we have in now are astonishing. You know I messaged our terrestrial scientists and they haven't responded yet. It has been three weeks! I mean, I want to think about the work we have to do but without the proper funding our work is largely useless. But we have so much time and I want to watch Eric. This is a first for the species, irrespective of how absurd it is. It's a spectacle and I want to watch how this car crashes. Plus it also seems pretty symbolic,' said Liz.
It was Liz’s turn to laugh. ‘Truly symbolic. This is the Washington Monument level of symbolism.’
Through microphone static Eric’s voice came blaring through their headphones.
‘Look, for fuck sake, criticise all you want but can you turn your damn microphones off?’ asked Eric.
‘Protocol, Eric. You are floating buddy, gotta keep in radio contact. You know how many other protocols you are breaking? We are only letting you do this so we can get a break from your creepy presence,’ said Liz.
‘Well keep it down. Eric out,’ said Eric as he finished his communication.
‘Eric out? We are well past formalities. Anyway, Allison, we have things to do. Real work. We will be listening but we won't watch. I will message the Guinness World Records when you’re done and let them know that there was no one present to witnesses your glory,’ said Liz.
Allison and Liz put their hands over respective microphones. They were close to bursting with things to say to one another. But they would wait and watch Eric's finale.
Eric was scowling the whole time. The two remaining women on the station were uninterested in his sexual advances. For months he had explained how much of a nice guy he was. He was a gentleman, a scholar, a true shining knight. They just liked bad boys he reckoned. It would just be functional! The sex would only keep them all sane. Both rejected his advances multiple times.
So he decided that he would try to reach a higher sexual plateau. Other crew members of the ISS in the past had their hobbies as he did. He had a pretty popular Youtube channel explaining the day to day ennui of lower orbit space research. But he was often consumed with a sexual energy which he could not work past and slowly any other additional work fell away as his sexual madness grew.
Masturbation was a several times a day affair for Eric. His method of clean up post masturbation was a NASA brand space sock. There was no laundry service on the ISS so every time they changed clothes they would send the dirty ones back in an outgoing progress module. The module, containing his discarded socks, would burn up in the atmosphere along with his discarded semen.
Maybe a few containers survived and he thought about his genetic material floating in the orbit of Earth. It would eventually land on the surface, thousands of years after humans had died out, when Earth was an inhospitable wasteland. His genetic material, his sex's Y-chromosome, would be the basis of the new norm and life would begin afresh. Planet Earthic. The Nerolithic period.
He thought of the fools on Earth. He decided that the first thing he would do when he arrived back on US soil would be to go directly to a sperm bank and donate as much as they would accept.
His family was rich, owning a huge ranch in West Texas, and he was well educated. Plus he was an astronaut. Who wouldn’t want their children to resemble an actual astronaut cowboy millionaire? That stuck up pair watching him from the observation deck did not know what they were missing. Fuck them, he would save it for the sperm banks. Get as many of his genes embedded in as many wombs as possible.
If any member of the animal kingdom had a sperm bank then it there would be no question of the males of that species going to the facility. If a lion had access to the kind of business which would make him the most genetically dominant member of the species then that lion would be there every damn day.
He had been thinking about sperm too much. He had reached critical mass and he was well past any point in which sensible self-analysis on the topic was possible.
So, while waiting in order to help those poor infertile couples of Earth, he focused on his current goal. To be the first man to jerk off into space. He had, as the women had discussed, created a new space suit. A big problem came down to cold. He had a narrow window in order to get the flap removed from the front of his suit, get his penis hard and jerk off before his genitals froze in the cold cold space. Furthermore this space walk was just before the sun rose and if he took too long his junk would be cooked. He had created artificial heaters which were attached to the seal around his crotch, directing warm air onto his dick and balls.
He did the calculations: The average time of quickest ejaculation based on the dated Kinsey papers was less than a minute. Six percent of the male population could reach completion in less than ten seconds. He was in that special, select group.
The male ejaculate leaves the penis at 28 mph or 45.06 kph. It is roughly the same speed of a human athlete when reaching the average speed in the hundred meter dash of the Olympic Games.
It was an absurd coincidence which Eric attached too much importance to. He imagined the speed of his semen remaining constant as it sprinted through the universe. At the pace of olympic runners, his little swimmers would do one better than those athletes and continue on that pace for near on eternity.
Or they would come in contact with space debris. Perhaps a planet or an asteroid. That would be a bonus in what largely amounted to empty space. Life may find a way, he thought, in that scenario. He aimed for the Alpha Centauri solar system, a solar system with a name more suited to Eric. He would be the Alpha, the Omega, the superior centaur.
Alpha Centauri was 4.37 light years away. That worked out to be 4.1343e+13km or 41,343,000,000,000 km. If considering the ISS distance from the surface of the Earth relatively negligible then his semen would take 917,509,986,684 hours or 38,229,582,778.5 days or 104,738,583 years. He also did not include the expanding universe within the distance calculations or any of the minor gravitational effects. He wanted a rough estimate of when his secondary goal would be completed. It would be 100 millions years until the universe was going to be truly ready for him and his new species. The basic building blocks of his being would land in the cosmic goop of some strange land. Then the Lightning of Thor would strike the mixture and cause new complex molecules to form from the head start he provided. And so the slow progress towards a new life would begin.
He thought of this mathematics as he violently jerked his dick. Finally the moment occurred and he emitted a victorious whimper into the microphone.
As he watched the globular drips leave his penis and venture forth into the unknown, he felt the opposite propulsion backwards and as he attempted to enjoy the task completed, the sound of the two women laughing burst through his headpiece.
'Jesus Christ!' said Liz before she went on giggling.
Then the post-selfcoital blues hit. Eric was struck with a post-masturbation depression of the likes which he had never experienced before. As he looked at his crotch he began to contemplate how he reached this moment. His mind wandered in a variety of directions, mostly negative.
He remembered learning a word years prior, a Japanese slang word, ‘kenjataimu’: the period after orgasm when a man is free from sexual desire and can think clearly.
In that moment, as the sun would soon begin in the calm crest of the Earth horizon, he knew that he was lost and would not find his way back from being alone. Alone in space, alone in the universe.
'Alone,' Eric whispered, poetically, as he stared into the void. He began think about his childhood and...
A voice again broke his concentration.
'You got that right bucko, you are alone as a penguin in Texas. Alright I am reeling you in. Time for your nap there buddy,' said Liz. She pushed the controls on her left forearm panel and Eric's body began a slow retreat back to safety, his limp arms and legs trailing behind him. It appeared like he was unconscious. It was obvious that he was just lost in his thoughts. 'So we have two more months on this mission Allison, what are we going to do?' asked Liz.
'Not really sure. I think that we, beside the continuing the avoid-and-distract tactics we have been using on Eric, just work as hard as we can. Be the best we can be. I don't think we should base our action on what is happening down there on the surface. We have to be above all the nonsense. Aside for the fact that we are already above all that nonsense. You know literally. Timing wise we are just floating past the western seaboard of the States. I actually might have been a smidge to early, so maybe figuratively,' said Allison.
'I get it pal. Thanks for the relatively simple pep talk, said Liz as she took Allison's hand in hers. Liz smiled at her compatriot. 'You're right lady. Let's go do some work!' said Liz.
They floated hand in hand away from the observation deck, through the to Kibō. Kibō was the largest single ISS module. It was named after the Japanese word for hope. It contained the laboratory equipment they were currently using for the current batch of tests.
As they drifted, silently enjoying the others companionship, Liz pulled Allison into a spin, the two spiralling their way down the last corridor on their way to do some rigorous, ethical, and professionally executed scientific research.
'We have to think of the future, hopefully a bright one. The next generation of kids growing up in a tumultuous world. Forget about the politicians, the self-absorbed billionaires, the ignorant rednecks. Allison, we have to think of the children,' said Liz, breaking the silence.
Allison let out a delightful peal of laughter and then looked at her friend.
'You know that is funny,' said Allison.
Allison looked confused. 'What?' said Liz
'My mom,' said Allison, 'that's what she said.'