Chapter 1: World’s Best Job

Space. Agoraphobia. I’m a sufferer. The second word is often defined as fear of the first word. Actually, agoraphobia is a fear of being helpless. That’s the real definition, look it up, don’t take my word for it. The fear of helplessness in uncontrollable situations can sometimes manifest as a fear of public places or open spaces. Open Space? Sounds nice. Wide open spaces. I wish I could have some. My ambition is to earn it. To earn it, I have to suffer for it. I’m pretty damn good at suffering, but not in silence. I scream while I suffer!

My name is Mark Hest but it’s not my real name. Found it on the Internet, and adopted it as my name. It means dark horse in Norwegian. Not one drop of Scandinavian blood flows in my veins. Nearly every other kind of racial gene makes up my genome though.

You haven’t the foggiest notion of what I’m talking about. That’s a statement not a question.

First, consider I do suffer from agoraphobia and I’m a space pilot. Not in outer space, only in near earth space. Think of me as an orbital taxidriver. People need ferrying from orbiting spacecraft to the planet surface and some need to be transported up to orbiting spacecraft. That’s my job. A self propelled elevator pilot. My spacecopter flies folks up and falls down, fly up and fall down, thousands of times each year. Half a dozen times each day.