by Jefferson Scott

A cornfield hung over Jerrod’s head. In the hazy distance, robotic tractors cut through wheat and rice fields, and cows munched on grass far overhead.

There was no sun, of course, but the illumination rays at the spaceship’s core shed white light on every living thing in the Ark.

“I’m bored.” Ellie dropped down from a pecan tree and brushed herself off.

Jerrod looked at her. She was exactly his age, 12, but they weren’t related. He was small and fidgety with a nest of blond hair; she was tall with dark, curly locks.

“Let’s go play in the zero-G,” she suggested.

Jerrod frowned. “Nah. I almost fell last time.”

“Mom and Dad wouldn’t let you fall all the way to the ground,” Ellie said. “They’d send a flyer after you or something.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Jerrod said. “But they’re just computers, not real parents.”

“I know,” Ellie replied. “But they do watch us all the time.”

Jerrod and Ellie walked beside an irrigation canal. A red robot with telescoping green eyes waddled ahead of them, garden shears gripped in one metal hand. When its optical sensors detected them passing by, the robot stopped. They knew the gardener robot would resume its job once it had identified them.

Jerrod tossed a tennis ball in the air, throwing it slightly to the right to account for the ship’s rotation. Fields and pastures stretched out on all sides. Butterflies fluttered nearby, somehow knowing exactly how to fly in space.

“Let’s go talk to Mom and Dad,” Ellie said.

Virtual Parents

They rode the elevator up to the tech area and slipped into a virtual conferencing room crowded with chairs. When the door shut, the lights dimmed and holographic projectors turned on.

Their parents appeared on the display stage.

“Hello, Jerrod,” Mom said.

Dad smiled. “Hi, Ellie.”

“How can we help you two this afternoon?” Mom asked.

The images weren’t their real parents. They were projections of a Christian couple who had programmed all of the ship's systems. They’d spent years stocking the ship’s computer with information about Jesus Christ and the Bible and setting up the system to use their faces and voices.

“Well,” Ellie said, taking a seat next to Jerrod, “because the babies will wake up from their hyper-sleep pods soon, I just wondered when we’ll reach our new home planet.”

Mom smiled. “Well, dear, your new home is much closer now, but it will still be several years before you arrive.”

“That’s right,” Dad said. “The newborns need to grow up so they can help you colonize.”

“I just hoped we might be closer,” Ellie said, sighing.

“And how are we supposed to teach hundreds of babies about the God of the universe?” Jerrod asked.

Mom laughed. “Not hundreds. And you won’t have to raise them. I’ve programmed the robots to take care of them. And we’ll be here.”

“Yeah, but what if —”

An emergency alarm sounded.

The holographs froze a moment as the computer assessed the problem. The images smiled and shook their heads.

“It’s Gardener-229,” Dad said. “He’s fallen in the pool again. Will you guys get him out?”

“Sure!” Jerrod and Ellie were out the door before the holographs flickered off.

Robot Rescue

Jerrod and Ellie rode the elevator up to the recreation core.

“Warning!” Mom’s voice came from speakers in the ceiling. “Approaching ship’s core. Zero-G area. Please use railings.”

Ellie and Jerrod pulled down on the chrome bar to stop the elevator.

“Recreation level,” Mom’s voice said. “Have fun, kids!”

The door slid open, revealing a large, cylindrical room carpeted with a spongy play surface that was great for zero-G tag. Jerrod and Ellie whooped as they launched themselves out of the elevator into the weightlessness and crashed into the door that led to the low-gravity pool.

The circular pool had as much water as a regular Olympic-sized pool, but the water clung to the edges, like a giant cup of spinning water. The little white gardener robot bobbed in the whirlpool. A giant water glob, created by the robot’s splashing, hovered midair in the center of the pool.

“At least he floats,” Jerrod said.

“How do we get him out?” Ellie asked.

But Jerrod was already in. He judged the spin perfectly and dove to the exact center, striking the water glob in slow motion like he was sinking into Jell-O.

“Jerrod!” Ellie shrieked. “Be careful! The water ball’s too big!”

Inside the glob, Jerrod paddled and kicked to get to the edge, but he barely moved. Ellie could see he was running out of air. Just as she was about to dive in to help, Jerrod popped his head out the side and took a deep breath.

“Don’t ever do that again!” Ellie yelled. “It’s dangerous!” Tears filled her eyes. “You know it scares me when you do stuff like that.”

“I’m sorry,” Jerrod said. “I was just having some fun.”

He did a dolphin kick and emerged from the glob before lowering himself into the water. He gave Gardener-229 a push, launching the robot out of the pool. Jerrod came right behind like some kind of weird flying fish.

Ellie sniffed. “Showoff.”

Jerrod grinned and toweled off.

“Be more careful next time!” he called as Gardener-229 bounced back through the entrance.

“You, too,” Ellie added. “Wanna go to the lookout?”

“Sure.”

They boarded the tramway to the forward observation gallery, a place they frequently visited.

Lonely in Space

Jerrod and Ellie floated into the cool darkness of the gallery. A clear, reinforced aluminum wall was all that separated them from open space. Stars speckled the distance like grains of sugar on a black bedspread. Deep space was nothing like old Earth movies portrayed — starships zipping through galaxies jam- packed with cosmic clutter. It felt empty and far away.

In the center of their vision, barely visible beside brighter stars, shone a tiny pinpoint of light — the sun that circled their planet, a planet like Earth. At least that’s what the scientists believed when they launched the Ark centuries ago.

Jerrod and Ellie pressed themselves into two cushy observation seats and drew the pillow belts tight across their laps. One day this gallery would be packed with noisy kids being chased by robots that couldn’t possibly keep up. But for now it was all theirs.

They sat in silence, watching the distance, believing they were getting somewhere but unable to detect any movement. Finally, Ellie spoke.

“We don’t really have it so bad, you know.”

Jerrod swallowed. “I know.”

“I mean, we’ve got this entire spaceship to ourselves. We can go wherever we want. We never have to wait in line for anything. We’re traveling through space to a planet no one’s ever visited. Not to mention, you and I will be like the king and queen.”

“Yeah,” Jerrod said, wiping his eyes, “but Ellie, we’re so alone. There’s nobody to talk to —”

“Thanks a lot.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Jerrod gave her a playful punch. “But how are we supposed to be the leaders of a new planet? We have no clue what to do. I just —”

His voice cracked, so he waited. “Sometimes I just wish we’d been born on Earth like normal kids. You know, with normal families and normal lives.”

Ellie leaned her head back and shut her eyes.

“In everything.”

Jerrod looked over. “What did you say?”

Ellie opened her eyes. “In everything. It’s part of that verse Mom and Dad taught us from Thessalonians. ‘In everything give thanks, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.’ “

She turned toward him. Even in the dim starlight he could see her smile. “It seems to me that we have to just decide to thank God for putting us here,” she said. “I mean, we don’t have some things that ‘normal’ kids do, but we’ve got tons of stuff they could never have.”

Jerrod felt her words go down into his heart like honey. “I guess you’re right.”

“I’ve been thinking about this a lot,” Ellie said. “We can’t be happy with anything until we figure out how to be happy with what God’s given us and where He’s placed us.”

She paused. “I’m thankful for you, Jerrod,” she said. “I think you’re going to be a great leader.”

Jerrod couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “I’m thankful for you, too, Ellie.” He gulped. “I’m glad God chose you and me to be, you know, together in this.”

“Yeah,” Ellie agreed. “We have a lot to be grateful for.”

They sat back and looked again into the starry distance and their fast-approaching future.

	Q: What did one lightbulb say to the other one? A: “Watt are you doing?” Charles R., 10, Georgia Clubhouse Jr. Click here to subscribe