Erio Touwa Joins NASA, 1959

Night watch was always the worst. Boring, and often hot on a summer Floridian night. It needed doing, however, since what we were building here was something that the Soviets would do ANYTHING to either get their commie paws on, or destroy.
None of that meant you were not falling asleep anyway, however.  Fading in and out, you barely notice a soft thud next to you. Rubbing your eyes, you turn to look, and damn, but there is a weird, spring roll looking thing that had bumped into the guard rail, and had fallen to the ground.
“What the fuck is this shit?” Is she… wearing a mattress? Weird, floral, thin one too.
“H-help me, Hu-man. I musht get in to your com-plex.”
“…You do know that sneaking onto government property like this would have warranted a bullet in your heart had I been paying attention?”
Some weird, blue antenna thing, which you think was hair, fluttered angrily. She(?) continued to speak.
“W-well, I am an interstellar int—t-terloper, a-and I came to obse- “
“What is your name?” You were getting real tired of this conversation.
“I um, am an alien, and do not have to tell you my name.” She was being stupid, or cheeky.
“WHAT IS YOUR NAME, XENO-SCUM?!?”
With soft sobbing coming from the walking flower tube, you heard “E-e-erio. My n-name is Erio…”
“Alright. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just needed to know. Let’s go talk to the site director.” She wiggled her entire body, which you thought meant yes.

NASA had a great deal of funding, because we also created a lot of the science for missiles for the Strategic Air Command and other organizations.  There were, however, a lot of shortages in necessary operations.
Mainly, your paycheck. You did not get paid enough to escort nuts like this Erio girl. Much less take her to the site director. On the way to him, she had explained that she had “Important extraterrestrial knowledge for Mr. von Braun”. Head of Site security, Jimmy Valentine, some fuckin’ mobster type hired at the last second, blew you off and let you deal with this. He was busy using that new Cocaine stuff we have lying around, pompous bastard.
The futon whimpered as she bumped into another damn pole in the hallway. She was…. Almost endearing, but still a hassle.
Eventually, after much cursing of “Low tech building materials”, we arrived to find Von Braun kissing some blueprints. He did like his pointy rockets, heh. Wait, no, the space race is serious business, can’t make that joke.
“Vas is los? What are you doing here with…what is that? What, is this some sort of birthday present? I thought they stopped the practice of giving little girls YEARS ago.”
What_the_fuck_is_this_negro_saying.40mm
“Sir, Valentine told me to send this, err, Ayy LAMO she called herself? To you. “
A sparkling blue haired head popped out of the futon, and gasped is small wonder. “Your measurements are wrong. The fins need to be at 35 degree angles, not 40.”
With a harrumph, Braun turned to the board, away from her, and began to speak. “Well, Mrs. Smarty-pants, did YOU work on rockets for the last 10-20 years of-….” He stopped suddenly. This was probably a bad sign.
“H-how did you know, know that I had made that error?” He was now very eerily calm.
“All aliens are masters of space!” Erio piped up cheerfully.
Herr Von Braun stroked his chin thoughtfully.
“Last time I had a child servant of this caliber, it was the Furher’s birthday, 3’, and he didn’t want his. Poor Helga…”
“Wh-what happened to this kid?” You asked, ever more worried about the Doktor’s mental health.
“Nothing. She moved to Brooklyn after the war and fell in love with a kid with a football shaped tumor in his head.”
Absolutely_disgusted.BurnedWoodCarving
You think on how oddly specific this information was, but then decide against asking how he obtained it. Probably learn how far the human prostate can stretch, if you did. “You are the Hugh Mann who helped me, please keep this one away. Beep boop.”
“What, are you a robot now as well?” Erio, who had surfaced from her futon to talk to the doctor, blushed softly. “Umm, pay no attention to what I just said, Human.”
Your shift was up, no matter what your punch card said.

Driving home, chain smoking, and thinking of what had just happened had almost drained you of all energy. Who was that girl? This, Erio? Why was this weird, blue haired Nip thinking she was an alien? Her very pale skin and hair color was otherworldly enough, but that doesn’t actually mean that she is an alien.
Fuck all of this, the moment you get home, it’ll be time for the morning news and Saturday morning cartoons. Some nice homebrews with Awoo seems nice right now…
Your shitty old 49’ Caddy pulls up to your little shack, and Awoo barks at you. “I’ll feed you soon, don’t worry. You are such a cute dog, you know.”
Awoo barks happily. She is a white German Shepard, you think. One of the big dogs, pointy ears, part collie, you think, as she has the weirdest, reddish brown, almost knowing eyes. When did you get her? For that matter, where? You chalk up the holes in your memory to your budding alcoholism and work stress.
You pull out some sausages from your new fridge, amazing things really, and threw some to Awoo, who caught them easily. You threw one last sausage, that bounced off her cheek. She was turned, and took you a while to realize that somehow, Erio had followed you home.
“Jeez-How?”
“I followed you in the automobile storage unit.”
“What, the trunk? How did you get in, or out?”
She deftly ignored you and started petting Awoo. “This is one soft pupper, Mr…?”
“Sargent John T. Anon.  Call me Anon.” You smile at how cute they look, playing with one another.
“You are not going to live with me, girlie. I’m going to send you back to where you came from. By airmail.” You were almost serious. Airmail surcharges were pretty high though…
 She just started gasping like a fish out of water. “I-I cannot. Only the spessmen can take me home, with their machine. I am from the future year of 2016. I have come here to Make Space Great Again.”
Eh, good enough. Just going to leave her at the Space center, let von Braun and the other night guards deal with her.
“Maybe we can give you a job, let you be the Doktor’s assistant, or try out space suits on you. There was a girl similar to you who was found outside White Sands, where the Manhattan Project took place, back in 45’ or so the rumor goes.”
“I may know her, but that doesn’t matter now. Where am I going to go into a vegetative state?”
You rub your eyes as you eat more food that you had made for the now three of you. “Just sleep as is. You already live in a mattress.”
“But- “
“No buts. Just…just go to bed please. I’ve had too much today. Now if you excuse me, I must go fall into a drunken stupor. Goodnight.”
Awoo gives you both a look, and follows you to bed, leaving the poor, blue headed girl alone.
Occasionally you mistake Awoo for a beautiful girl, especially late at night, or hear a woman’s voice, but it turns out you are going crazy, and must now drink 2 gallons of alcohol every day to cure yourself, or so Dr. Nosestein had said. As it was, you blacked out while cuddling a very VERY soft dog.

Erio had settled into her life at the Space center, and existed as Number 1 Navigation hazard, and occasionally helped Braun with his rockets, and she made (Very) crude blueprints for things like the Saturn V and the Space Shuttle. This was done in crayon.
It was not long until the cars came in. Unmarked, except for a weird light on the top, like a taxi almost. All descended on the space center, with a singular goal. “Eyy, bud! Get oudda tha way! Gotta deliver dis pizza in 30 minutes or less!” This was a massive security risk, but Jimmy Valentine let them in anyway.
“Don’t make me get my cousin Paulie on youse, Anon. He’s got strong hands.”
The center became so disorganized; you were sure the pet Germans who worked there were having aneurysms.  Speaking of work, the goddamn commies put a man in space. NASA admin, Newt Gingrich, came down and asked a simple question. “What the hell is going on?”
A small peep came from the resident alien. “They put a man in space, Human Space Leader.”
“How?” Newt did not seem phased by the CUTE little girl that now was a part of the staff here. He…didn’t even seem to care.
“With a rocket and a lot of dead men before him.” The futon whined softly, and her little antenna hair drooped lower. Newt nodded, and continued. “How do you know this?”
“I am an alien, and I am from the future. The Soviets race ahead early in the Space Race at the cost of many lives. You do it very safely, and better. We will conquer the stars as per Kennedy’s plan.”
“Who is Kennedy? That Catholic Pretty Boy?”
“Yes. He becomes president in 2 solar revolutions, and dies 2 revolutions after that, nearly 3. He says that the United States will go to Luna. They do. Ayy Lamo.”
“Well…Let’s unfuck the situation. You, that Sargent over there, and von Braun will fix everything. That is your new mission, and we will just slap you onto the patch for this. Always need more merchandizing.”
Erio periscoped out of the futon, and gave him a small smile. God she was a cutie, but children are for cuddling, and not for Patty Cake type stuff, ya know.
They seemed to speak in their own language, full of numbers, whirling words that even after hearing them, you could not pronounce. She pointed at some of her notes, mysteriously pulled from the void that is the futon. Written in clear, neat, small English, with drawings and concepts you could not follow.
Erio was actually so much smarter than you, it wasn’t even funny. She didn’t know how to fix an engine, or cook a perfect steak, so at least you had that. You were a petty sonofabitch.
They continued far into the night, past the end of night shift. She fell asleep in the Erio Corner, near all the blueprints, which she had stolen, and moved into the planetarium. She had actually become territorial, biting one unfortunate slave- I mean intern.

You fell asleep in your bed, thinking of how a rocket would fly better if there were flame decals, like Erio had suggested. From within the haze of sleep came bright colors, stars, nebulae, space shuttles in flight. Color photographs, tall buildings, taller than you had ever seen. Strange machines laying road, a plane that looked like a shitty B-movie prop bombing a place you knew somehow as Serbia. Explosions, smiles, flowers, disease, and finally, back to stars.
Your shrink thought that you might have met Erio in a future life, and could see into that life’s memories. He made all that stuff up, but it SEEMED like it could be true…
You always floated, sometimes Erio was there, and showed you interesting rock formations on Mars. Sometimes you met that strange vision of a humanoid Awoo, and you had coffee together in your dreams. Your shrink had said that you were secretly Canadian, for seeing your dog as a sexy woman. You do not know what that means.
You have a feeling of hopeful, yet impending doom. The fabric of reality was fraying, and soon would tear. And Erio was at the heart of it all, oblivious to it. So were you, except in dreams such as these. Introspective visions that you forgot afterwards.
Have you even met your Shrink? Is he just a figment of your imagination in these visions? Were extraterrestrials responsible for this? Will you ever complete the quest?
Will you ever Make America Great Again?
You were sure you were being gaslighted by some entity that neither cares nor comprehend what it has done to you, but you do not even know what being gaslighted meant. You knew the term only, and nothing else. Perhaps you were not meant to understand.
And like that, you woke up in a hangover, after having dreamed about that blonde waitress again, from Janice’s. Becky, she was called.

“No!” Erio screamed out. It was unusual for her to show much emotion in her voice, so this must be important. “No. You can’t use 100% pure oxygen in the spacecraft. It’s a big fire hazard! What would our PR guys do to explain if one of the Mercury 7 pretty boys died?”
She had also momentarily dropped the weird alien lilt to her speech. She did seem to know a lot about space travel, for a 16-year-old.
“Sounds like you know something we don’t Was is los? Spill the beans, mein Fraulein.” Braun was back in his mad scientist outfit, the one he wore just to piss off people on the team.
Erio looked around naturally trying to escape the doktor. “Err, In the future, there will be men who try to go to the moon. The first such mission ends in failure, with the death of all 3 crewmembers in a fire that sets the program back months. Lower the Oxygen content, and make sure there are no lose wires, especially near the feet of the astronauts.”
Braun scribbles furiously, then actually writes down what she said. He was the best at Pictionary, after all.

Be Space girl
Be blinded by the light, smelling the harsh tobacco smoke as the interrogators circle like loans harks, mostly because they were. “What is this about this JFK character becoming president?”
Run options list: 1: Cry 2: tell truth 3: say something mysterious
Aliens were not known for being creative, so 2 it is.
“In the year of Mua’don 1961, John Fitzgerald Kennedy ascends the throne of Emperor of the US. He is killed by an assassin hired by the communists, or whoever owns them. Multiple theories exist, the most popular being that a vengeful Marylyn Monroe ordered a hit on Jackie, and the assassin missed. “
The light was very bright, your feet hurt, the music was too loud, it’s not like you enjoy dancing anyway-
“Focus, little one. We’s just wanna know who done im in. Speak, what was the other theory?”
You gulp. You wish your cousin were here. His explanation of adolescent points always put you to sleep, though…
“It has been revealed to my alien mind that the ones of the race your kind calls the Jews are in fact, at fault for nearly everything in history. Jews invented Communism, and control the banks, and money, and the economy, and somehow JFK was a threat to them. His death demoralized the country, and many years later, set the stage for nearly destroying the country. A hero arose to save us from the darkness. A rat named Ted Cruz was the one who killed the Moon Man.”
Your interrogator, Tony Mallone from the FBI understood. Later he told J. Edgar Hoover, and all sorts of hell came down on Congress in the following weeks, after names were named, and future bills were shot down to save the future.
You want nothing to do with politics. Anon, your anon, not his Grandfather here in 59’ was the politician. You?
You were an alien, and come hell or high water, you were going to go back.
To space.

The claws of death would not claim Gus Grissom this day, due to the efforts of one special girl. The Seven were doing well in training, and soon, it was time to put the Soviets back in place. With the rising confidence given by the future knowledge, and Newt’s single-minded determination to put an American into space had led to this moment.
“...8,7,6…”
Gus was picked to be the first in space, under the assumption that he was now invincible. Sargent Anon had pointed out that their reasoning made no sense, but he was dutifully ignored. Inside the control room was barely controlled chaos.
“Send him up. The full 24. We can do it, Doktor. We must have faith in the math.” She was flustered, a little panicky. After all, there were a couple million dollars and a human life riding on her little shoulders. She was now in her own space suit, sans futon. She had thought it would help with the launch apparently. You were too busy noticing how well it conformed to her body, how soft and smooth the suit looked, the way her cheeks were lighting up, how big her eyes were-
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHSHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTCHCHCHCCHCHHCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH……….
Only 10 minutes after did you regain your hearing. “Goddamn that was loud. Are we really leaving him up there a full 24 hours? Did we even pack him a big enough lunch for that?”
Erio turned to you, her gaze steely. “We are. He will go up, and tell us what he sees. If he sees any aliens, he will tell them to come down. Otherwise he will collect data and read us a poem from over the Earth. He is…the man on the spot.” She looked wistful.
You knew she wanted to go home, wherever that was. A future that will not come to pass, now that she is here. Or maybe she really is from space. Either way, she wanted up there. She had begun to get /fit/ and voraciously read through control books, and you had the sense that she was growing up. Is this what it’s like to have a daughter?
It was your job to help her fly. It was not an idea you had in your own mind. Not even a mission from God. It was more like watching your own life from a viewer’s perspective. You were scripted to help, never mind the fact that you were in the navy, not the air force, and one of the poor bastards aboard the USS Texas, who did fuck all during the war.
You were washed up, but you were going to give you all for this girl’s dreams.

Erio had explained to Braun that he couldn’t keep taking apart rockets made by workers in the factories, as that took too much time. She had arranged it so that the rockets would be made correctly the first time. Rockets by nature only had to work once, so sometimes mistakes slipped through the cracks.
Sometimes that mistake is the first stage being unable to detach from the second.
“Everything is bad. Wat do?” Grissom is worried. Control is scared. Only one way to save the mission.
“Turn on the second stage anyway. Burn a hole right through, we will make it work.”
You were assaulted by several clipboards, pencils, and desk lamps, because that was a very stupid idea. It will have to work however, and the go ahead was given.
The bolt that held the stages together quickly melted from the hellfire that is a rocket’s engine, and thusly Gus was free. You were congratulated by more things being thrown. NASA did hire literal monkeys, after all.
He came down with no further incident. Erio spent a lot of time with him, and came back with a half filled notebook, most of which were drawings. She had sullen eyes as well.
“Dreams do not always come true at first. In time, they always do.” You reassure her.
‘But if that is true, what the hell does that mean for me?’

You awoke at around 7 in the morning. After having gotten dressed, eaten a big breakfast, and feeding Awoo, you went outside. You walked over to your car, and tried to unlock the door. There was no key hole. In fact, there was no car. Not anymore, anyway.
Whatever entity had seen fit to transport Erio to the year 1961(as it had been 2 years) had also seen fit to place what you recognized as a space probe on top of your car.  It was a bright silver, with a strange blue flag on it, almost like the UN flag. Actually the same as it. Weird. Undamaged, it simply crushed your car with its weight.
You smack your tired lips together a few times. “Ayyy yo yo hol up, hol up. I haven’t even had my coffee yet, God. Not today, Please.”
EARLIER…
“Is it ready, Moishe? Do you really think we will find those space diamonds?”
Moishe, a tired, 68-year-old Merchant sat in his chair made of fine German leather. “I dunno. This new facility, Shekelburg Crater, she’s kinda cheap. And the probe, we got it covered in silver foil, not gold. You know how Soros is about gold.”
Hands in a placating manner, Schlomo said, “Alright, alright, stop tearing off my ears. Now that the UN’s capital is in Israel, we can launch right?”
Shaking his head,” UN HQ has got nothing to do with it, but yeah, we are launching…Now.”
Shloooooooop
Klaxons rang out. “Oy vey! What the hell is it this time? Better not be more bagel crumbs in the console again!”
“The Surveyor! Its... gone!”
Panic reigned through mission control, and the Vultures grew more and more uneasy with their new power that let them control nothing.

“Eyy, Mac! Wheres you wants this highly advanced, Globalist space probes?”
“Anywhere is fine. I stopped caring long ago.”
Mac, the tow truck driver, dropped off your car in the Vehicle Assembly building. The craft was marked with a UN Surveyor, and had an image of a Kike on it, for whatever reason. Paul would love to get his hands on this baby, that’s for sure.
“A GIFT? FOR ME? AWW, ANON, YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE!” You were tackled by a small, blue haired girl wearing a cute space suit, and were kissed very sweetly on the cheek. She finally noticed you, however, and pulled back. “I uh, um, my sensors indicated that you were a different Anon…”
‘There is more than one Anon? Who could she mistake me for? …That kiss felt nice.’
She gave a short little cough. Her eyes went as wide as the flying saucers she loved so much.  “T-the UN? What are they doing here? They- Oh Dear God, it’s a probe from the future!”
“Couldn’t it also be a probe from an alternate universe?” You said dryly. Bitch didn’t even know her science fiction.
She gave the tow truck man a handshake, a really limp one at that (People were still scary), and thanked you for sacrificing your car. “They boys in the lab will love it. I know I do. The tech….” She started drooling, as if the probe was a big steak. But where did it come from? What would we learn?

‘Note: The UN is run from Israel, and controls vast amounts of the world. Argentina, UK, Japan, Russia, and the South are mostly free. They are technically run by the NWO, but they are autonomous, so they do not destroy the entire UN. They want full freedom, however, and will do anything to obtain it. That is why we sent this probe to you. -Love, The Republic of Texas (RT) Battleship Texas.’
“So they really did secede. I thought it was a joke. What does this mean, Battleship Texas? Eh. Whatever. We have this intel now, but what do we do with it?”
Von Braun was the first to speak. “Ve must liberate ze world from the Jews who abuse the rocket facilities. All space traitors must hang!” Erio stepped away a little, as she was helping Earth against her old world. “I agree.” She said plainly. “We must save them from those who would do them harm. Maybe we can communicate with the rebels. Is that not what this great Empire stands for? Freeing those under unjust rule?”
“Something like that, Erio. Something like that.  Put it through to Newt and Paul. They can sort this out. Kennedy would approve, I think. What would Russia think of it though?”
“Maybe zeir Alter counterparts can convince them of how bad Communism is. We might get ze 2 superpowers to work together once more.” Erio nodded, and wrote down on her clipboard about it.
Your little meeting  broke up, but Erio stayed. “Hey, A-anon?” She looks so nervous and cute. “C-can you take me to lunch? I ran out of Credits, and I’d like one of your American Foodstuffs. P-please.”
Well, that was new. You were going to have a date with Erio over some Hamburgers.

You’ve never really noticed. Erio has the shiniest hair you have ever seen. Not greasy shiny (It was that way sometimes, since she was a shut in), but glitterier. She seemed to shimmer like a mirage. Had you not known her name, you may very well have called her that.
"Why is your hair so shiny, Erio?"
"Well, my mother figure claims that when I was little, she gathered as many stars as he could, and sewed them into my hair, so I could always see at night!" This seemed as good a reason as any.
She was trying to eat a burger that was too big for her hands.
“Damn gravity!” She said, as another pickle fell out. You didn’t eat pickles, or vegetables on your burgers (except onions) since they were not tasty, nor nutritious. At least, lettuce was fucking worthless as food. You wiped away a spot on her face as you cursed the plant kingdom for crossing you.
You almost don’t notice her blush, or hear her say, “I like being with you, Anon. It’s…I think you would call it fun.”
You drop your burger in amazement. Not once in your 45 years of pretending to be a police officer, being in the Navy, or working for NASA did anyone ever tell you they enjoyed being with you. There used to be girls, back when you were young, but nothing serious.
“I-I really enjoy being with you too…” You stammer out. You feel yourself fall a little bit further from God’s light. You were thinking some impure thoughts about the little weirdo, like holding her hand…
“But why do you enjoy being with me, of all people? Did you have someone back home, like me?”
She turned away a bit, and her hair blew softly from the fans in the diner. “Yes. He was…well, you, in personality. From what I can guess, he was your grandson, in the other world. You didn’t have any kids in this one.”
“What, was he supposed to save the world or something. D-did you...well, you know…”
“No. Nor did I love him. I respected him, but…I wasn’t supposed to love, since I am an alien. C-could compromise my mission.” You saw through her façade. Oh hell, she was falling for you. Wat do?

Um... uh…I’m going to hell anyway, fuck it.

“Are you saying you fell in love with a man like me?” She gasped, her eyes filled with surprise. A little fear too. “Wo-would you…err, like to continue down that escalator?”
Her face was like a porcelain doll, and suddenly, it cracked. Her laugh was so innocent, so sweet, you could not but help smile.
Until her laughing continued. Her eyes were wide, pupils dilated. “L-love you? I could never- well, maybe- Arrrrgh!” She stormed out of the restaurant. You would follow, but you had to pay first. She had broken. Now you had to pick up her pieces, and follow her back to the VAB.
She was as unwilling to admit her love as you were. Fate had a funny way of doing things, sometimes.

You had found her watching the SSTV feed from the satellites. It was nothing but static. Had you seen The Ring, you might have been creeped out, but culture hadn’t advanced far enough yet, so you were not. “Erio?”
She said nothing. Just intent on watching the snow fill the screen. Soft white noise filled the dim room.  It was all she ever listened to, except David Bowie albums and Theremins. And Chet Baker.  Finally, she spoke.
“This static contains Cosmic Background Radiation. In a sense, we can look right at the beginning of the universe. We can hear it, the Big Bang.” She began to sweep her arms; she was getting into it.
“This universe is so enormous; I can’t even begin to imagine. And now there are two of them.” Almost silently, with a few small tears streaming down her face, she turned to you.
“I feel so alone.”
“You have me. Life’s only meaning is what you give it. Sentimental value is priceless. It is how we can exist as humans, we give special meaning to books, art, ideas, moments in time. We think meadows are beautiful, and garbage dumps are not. There is no intrinsic value that gives them these emotions that we feel, we give them these connotations. To believe in things that are not there, to give meaning to the meaningless, that is what makes us human, Erio.”
“I am not human.” She tried to shut you out. Perhaps her mind could not accept that someone could understand her. Perhaps she is just an autist. It doesn’t really matter, as it was clear to you that she would soon be yours.
“You may be born somewhere else in the high halls of history, on a faraway planet, but you are as human as they come. And if you would like to explore what it means to be human with me, well, I’d be honored to oblige.”
She smiled softly, that rare, kind smile, the one that loves you. Like if God, or maybe a man you did not know of, with golden hair and a loud, smug mouth smiled at you. Life could be alright, not even the globalists and their Soviet puppets could stop you.

Fire. Fires were burning. Burning all over the VAB. Someone had fucked up big, and a big fat Saturn V engine had brewed up. “This shouldn’t be HAPPENING! It’s like I’m back in Peenemunde! There wasn’t a test scheduled for today, why was there fuel in the rocket?!?” Von Braun had never been so angry. You felt your knees buckle below you. YOU were head of site security now, or at least de facto were. Jimmy Valentine was still fucking around somewhere.
It was your job to keep things like this from happening. You cannot begin to imagine how much you might have hurt Erio by letting this occur. The Saturn V was her baby as much as it was Werner’s.
You idly wondered if that would make you the uncle, or a cuck.
“Goddamn future niggers.” Braun looked at you, and got to thinking. “Yes, it might have been the interlopers from Alter UN. We should evacuate. The monkeys are dying in the fire, but we are doing our best to save them.”
“Shit, the engineers?” “No, the test pilots.” Braun assured you.
You and he calmly left the building as some of the best fire fighters swarmed NASA to save the very expensive machinery. You would likely have to start over, and recycle the whole goddamn rocket because of compromised metal. Fucking hell, that’ll look bad.
Erio was outside, her face framed in flame colored light, as her hair blew softly in the night’s wind.
…How long had you been in there? How did it become night already? You were working too much.
“Why are you still in that space suit?” Erio responded with “I am still testing it. There is also insufficient cooling in my normal vehicle to exist comfortably, so I will retain this suit of superb human manufacturing.”
“Yeah, Florida is too damn hot to be running around in a blanket all day, huh. So you uhh, know about what’s going on in there?” ‘Please don’t be mad’, you thought.
“I am aware, yes. We have received transmissions that indicate that the UN did this.” You bit back surprise as she continued on. ” We have an explanation from the Russians.” As she paused, the local guards, engineers, researchers all started at one. “NOT our Soviets, but the free Russians of the future. They warned us, but we could not translate until now. They fight on with us, but they are very poor.”
“They are aided by the Argentinians, who control everything south of Peru. They are the strongest country not completely controlled by the UN in the future. They have gifted us with notes, medical supplies, and the blueprints for one of the rifts to the future/alternate universe.”
“It only works one way. They can only send stuff here, so we can change the future and prevent it from happening to us.” She looked a little sad, honestly.
“Why can’t we save them?”
“We do not yet know how to build one that goes the other way around. Water flows along the path of least resistance. We do not yet know how to make it go back upstream. When we do, we will save them, in gratitude for their sacrifices.”
That makes about as much sense as it could.
“But who is the one who would help us in such a way?” you asked.
She smiled, and whispered in your ear playfully.
“The Bear.”

He came into the office one day. Him. He was…familiar. Tall. Broad shouldered. Pale skinned. That was all, however. What was his hair color? Face? Had you seen him before? You felt as if you had. Many times. Déjà vu getting stronger, but the details remained fuzzy. Wait…fuzzy. That’s it! He had a big beard…what else? What else? He walked towards you. He always spoke in a strange language, almost like growling. You realize that he was often here, just out of sight. Beyond the hill. Watching. Always that suit. He was balding, badly. Just, was there.

You always felt hounded when he was there, in the trees, in the restaurant, never tiring. You felt your throat choke up. That also always happened. Sometimes you died. Sometimes not. You were always fine afterwards. How do you know any of this, though?
This was the first time you had seen him, right?

His visage filled your vision. Something blurry almost poked your eye out. It was his nose. His breath smelt of fish heads and rot. There was a toothy smile, and words that tried to assure you of something, but they only made you feel much much worse.

You then woke up.

“What the hell was all of that?”

This was the first time you had had that dream, but you had had it many times before? Does that make sense? Was it being forgotten somehow? Why do you remember? Why is Erio above you?

She WAS above you. Are you…in her lap? Why? You felt her gentile, long fingers run through your hair.
“Now you can remember the signals, from the aliens. You are now a bit more like me, Anon.” Tears started falling on your face. Not yours. She smiled.

Is she happy, bittersweet? Did she know about this? Is she why you can remember?

Will Donald disavow the party of Lincoln?
Wait…

You were a busy man. Often hard to find, but always the life of the party. Life was good, almost as good as Marylyn’s tight cooch. The things that baby had experience… Woof!
Too fucking bad she became a memay, or whatever those things your beancounters and advisors had told you they were. What they DID tell you was that Cuba was actually a state in the future, and it was your job to keep it safe.
“Who do those assholes think theyah are? I’m tha president, ya know?”
You got so upset, your back flared up again. A little trinket from fighting for Freedom. But I digress, ever since a certain high value target arrived, illegally I may add, the space race has really taken off. In fact, …
A little while later, Khrushchev called you on the phone.
“Comrade, why are you sending me pictures of your cock sitting upon some plans labelled “Space Station” and “Hubble”? Why, why would you ever do something this… obscene?”
“Communism and its invalidation of human rights is obscene, Mr. Chairman.” You then hung up on Mr. Angry Face. You went to a large monitor on your desk, a computer, somehow. Hell, it was even portable! Every time you turned it on, however, it held instructions, most of which come from future citizens that you were receiving somehow.
“Gas the kikes, race war now? Why is there 700 of these? Oh, here’s One-Nope. Just more Merchants.”
They were winning though. You began to see more and more evil in your life. Always there was a Berg, or a Stein attached to a new information leak, a new strike, a new teacher outed as a communist.
You began to see conspiracies in everything. Cuba will come soon; 51st state will be freed.
You got another message, a handwritten note, scrawled in Crayon, reading “Please Mr. Trump, make Supersonic Passenger Jets Great Again.”
‘Now there’s a thought. But who is Trump?’

After a long night of holding hands with Erio as you sleep, you awake to slightly niggled beeping. Not even angry beeping. Cheapskates.  You see her on her computer as always, watching strange radio feeds and a weird site with frogs. “The cohabitation partner is awake” you hear. Oh, yeah. You slept in the lab with Erio last night. “What are you doing, cutie? Looks like you are playing with the radio again.”
“I am getting information from the fut-ure, beep boop. A list of names.”
“Whoa, what? Like that crackpot McCarthy?”
“Affirmative. We have acquired a list of confirmed persons who collude and subscribe to the ideologies of Communism and all of its derivatives, such as Globalism.”
You scratch your head. Ever since you had met Erio, your life had become more and more nonsensical. “I thought Communism was a myth.”
Erio immediately stops, and turns to you. Flustered, eyes starting to stream. “Whoever told you that is a Commie sympathizer! Communism must be eradicated because of the harm it does to their fellow man. Capitalism does the same thing, but at least there’s more freedom, and a way out!”
What a firehead. Especially for someone with such blue hair.
The list she handed you is rather long. It also lists their positions in society, their addresses, and their names.
“Hey wait a fucking minute, my Banker is on there! Why is most of these guys all named stein or burg?”
“Pure coincidence.” Erio replies in her sweet, if monotone voice.
You blanche a little. Such a strange girl…

Gus Grissom still lived. Ed White still lived. Roger Chaffee still lived. By the cruel hand of fate, this will not stand. Although the problems had been corrected, damn near every problem had been, due to Erio’s encyclopedic knowledge of the Apollo Program, due to weaponized autism that the aliens had infected her with, she was basically a Mentat from Dune.
All problems had been solved, except for the most glaring of all: That of Sabotage.
On a routine unmanned test flight of the Saturn V, the rocket began to list, further and further towards Miami… and obliterated their favorite bar, where they were all enjoying scotch and ogling tits.
Official Russian reports of the matter stated that 107/3 targets were eliminated, bringing the KGB a new record and a few dozen new medals. A few heads rolled in the Apollo Program, some pilots were bumped up, and the rockets were redesigned with some stolen (Gifted, but Erio wanted to be edgy) 2016 computers, including a brand-new AI.
Her name was Tay.