[ WP ] Short story that takes place in a single elevator ride .

Elevator to Platform B 
 
 I stole another glance at my watch. The station was on Mountain Time. Of course, that far off the planet ’ s surface, the entire concept of time was completely arbitrary. 
 
 The Department could easily have had us work longer hours, and indeed it may have been more efficient to alter our schedules for work off-planet. But old habits die hard, so they instead opted to simply flood the station with artificial daylight in alternating blocks of twelve hours. And since the station was located in geosynchronous orbit far above the Utah desert, Mountain Time it was. 
 
 I let my wrist fall back to my side, satisfied that the elevator was not late. Yet. Three or four dozen times I ’ d made this trip so far, and not once had the goddamn lift been on time. If it didn ’ t arrive in the next ten minutes, I was ready to raise hell with the Transportation Bureau. 
 
 But even as the thought crossed my mind, I saw through the transparent ceiling above my head the elevator slowly descending down the shaft like a great glass donut. The shaft itself stretched up toward the heavens, a perfectly round black cylinder tethering the station high above to the Earth. 
 
 In five or six minutes, the elevator had slowed to a stop before me. I stood and gathered my things. There was a slight hiss as the doors opened and the pressure from inside equalized with the lower atmosphere. Ten or so people made their exit, all assisted by canes and walkers as their bodies readjusted to Earth ’ s gravity. I saw each of them take several deep breaths, the first lungfuls of fresh air they ’ d had in who knows how long. 
 
 The display above the door changed from red to green, and I stepped through the portal and into the elevator. 
 
 Only one other passenger followed me, an older man, probably in his seventies. Good, I thought. He didn ’ t look like he ’ d be much of a bother. I ’ ve had rides in this thing during the holidays that were absolutely dreadful. Ten hours locked in a sealed container with dozens of screaming children and their exhausted parents while I made a vain attempt to sleep my way through the trip. It was absolute hell. 
 
 But with only one other passenger, it wouldn ’ t be too bad. Hell, I could even sit on the opposite side of the shaft from him and we wouldn ’ t even have to look at each other. Gleefully, I stowed my bags in the compartment behind a seat and strapped myself in. The man chose a seat somewhere off to my right, far enough away that I could ignore him easily. 
 
 The doors slid shut again and I heard them vacuum-seal in place. 
 
 There was a steady hum, and the lift slowly began to rise. 
 
 We were a few miles in the air, before the elevator had begun to pick up speed, when my companion spoke. 
 
 “ Quite a view, ain ’ t it? ” 
 
 I looked out through the glass. Vibrant red plateaus dotted the landscape in every direction, lit by a fiery orange sunset that was slowly fading to purple. 
 
 I made a noncommittal grunt. To myself, I rolled my eyes. So much for my nice, quiet ride. 
 
 “ Never seen anything quite like it. No, sir. ” 
 
 “ Yeah, it ’ s fine, ” I replied gruffly, hoping that he would correctly interpret my tone as an invitation to leave me alone. 
 
 No such luck. 
 
 “ I mean, are you seeing this? ” 
 
 “ I ’ ve seen i- Look, buddy. I work on the shuttle platform. I make this trip a dozen times a year. It ’ s pretty and all, but I ’ ve seen it. Okay? Jesus, you ’ re acting like you ’ ve never been in space before. ” 
 
 He fell silent for a moment. 
 
 “ Well, I haven ’ t. ” 
 
 I was surprised. 
 
 “ You ’ ve never been to space before? Not even, like, on vacation? ” 
 
 He shook his head sadly, then leaned back to look up at the sky. 
 
 “ When I was a boy, I always wanted to go to the moon. I used to watch all those old cartoons where they ’ d go up there and... Do you remember Simon and Bobo? ” I stared blankly. “ Ah, I guess you ’ re too young for that. Anyway, I always wanted to go. Then they announced that they were building this thing, and that space travel would be so much cheaper, and my heart just soared. I was fifteen then. ” He stopped for a moment and swallowed. “ But I never got to go. I grew up on a farm, so there was always too much work to be done. Pa always said no. ” 
 
 The planet ’ s surface was growing fuzzy beneath us, cloaked by the haze of the lower atmosphere. The lift was picking up speed. 
 
 He continued. 
 
 “ Pa died, and I inherited the farm. And then I had even more work to do. So I never really got the chance to go. But I ’ m old now, and I can ’ t work anymore. Got no family to speak of. So I sold the place. And now I ’ m going to the moon. ” 
 
 I nodded and said that was nice. 
 
 He didn ’ t say anything for a while after that. 
 
 When we were somewhere in the middle of the thermosphere, I remembered something. 
 
 “ Hey, uh... I ’ m sorry, I didn ’ t catch your name. ” 
 
 “ Kurt, ” the old man replied. I nodded. 
 
 “ Jack. You know, the first time I was on this thing was in the middle of a meteor shower. ” 
 
 His eyes widened. 
 
 “ Really? What was that like? ” 
 
 “ It was incredible. ” I smiled. “ It ’ s way different from on the ground. You could see them blazing past just a mile or two away. They ’ re bright. Really bright. They move so goddamn quick too, faster than you ’ d think. ” 
 
 I trailed off, lost in the memory. Thankfully, Kurt chose not to break me out of it. 
 
 When I came back to reality, I saw through the transparent floor below my feet the behemoth that was the Earth. From this height, it seemed even bigger. 
 
 “ I ’ m gon na get some sleep, Kurt. This is the part where it ’ s not real interesting for a while. ” 
 
 He nodded. I closed my eyes. 
 
 I awoke to the sound of the lift doors opening, the familiar hiss that I ’ d heard so many times before. I stood and gathered my things, then I followed Kurt through the portal and into the station I ’ d come to know as my second home. 
 
 “ Do you know how to get to Platform B? ” he asked me. 
 
 “ Yeah, that ’ s where I work. It ’ s this way. ” 
 
 I slipped behind the counter, punched his ticket, and sent him on his way, wondering whether or not I ’ d see him again.
