Finito

So, my friend posted this picture of with a story ish thing. It was about the last scene of the last Harry Potter movie. It described how the whole group felt and all that gushy stuff.

But then it hit me why I actually kept reading it. I know the feeling. Think of this, for the greater part of your life, you’re filming a series of movies. Then, with the click of a camera, it’s done, over finito.

Now think of this. You were selected for this group, a group of eight people. You’re given a chance to do this extraordinarily project with an amazing group of people, working under an amazing mentor. You’re building a rocket. The film crew pulls in, you’re having a great time. Learn, laughing and creating memories.

You’re working with an amazing production crew. They become a bit of a family for you wherever the camera is. You make jokes with them, whisper into the mic that you need water, crush a can when the camera’s not near, remind them that you know they’re there. You’re working with a producer who sometimes acts fatherly. You meet all these people you’ll never forget.

Then comes the launch time. You fly out to the desert, as a group. You set up, you meet even more amazing people. You build the rocket, you’re ready to go. You get ready, the whole area is electrified, everyone’s excited.

54321 BOOM, it goes up. It curves, it somewhat explodes. Your rocket failed, it CATO’d(catastrophically failed). Everyone is dazed, the rocket failed, all this work, and it failed. We wander around for a bit, look at debris, then remember we have the CLOTHO Blue, the beautiful blue rocket, just laying there, beckoning to us.

Well, it’s missing a few parts. These we have to salvage from the CLOTHO Red, the debris. You spend about an hour with Mr. Richard, learning how to correctly fold and store a parachute. Then after that, you hop on the back of an ATV to help move the rocket, on a trailer, to the launch pad. You’re sitting there, making sure it doesn’t tip, you get time to recollect yourself.

You take pictures, you laugh, and you head back. Dinner time. But you feel you have a job to do, you need to disassemble the old payload so the group could build the new one. So you’re not eating. The wife of your soon to be new friend gets you a plate of food. This was of of the best things she could do. So you eat and laugh with the group, anxious to get back to work.

After dinner, the other kids decide to play a card game, mafia. But you don’t want to, you want to get back to work. Night falls, you’re holding the flashlight with your chin when another light appears. You’re newest friend Rainbow is holding a flashlight. So you work about an hour and a half more. You pull out the plates you need for the new payload, and you decide just to finish off the disassembly. You get to the final thing, the battery, stuck deep inside. You cut a wire and you start to hear a popping, pop pop pop. It starts smoking, so you flip the payload over and BOOM, the battery explodes. You look at Rainbow, and her at you, and you bust out laughing. You two decide it’s time for bed, the mafia game is long over, only these two lonesome souls left awake. So you grab some chair and sleeping bags and go to an empty place. A place where the RV’s low humming can’t be heard. You talk, and talk and talk. Then, the moon sets

The Beauty, the Glory, the Milkyway! All laid out before your eyes. No pollution, no light, you’re in the middle of a 200 square mile desert. You look up at the magnificence that is the stars. A few more jokes and your friend is asleep.

It’s just you, alone, in the middle of a desert. The final restless soul.

Sunrise, the new rocket is ready to go. You go down a checklist. You take your spot in the command center, alongside one of your new mentors, Mr. Rob. And then, the whole desert goes quiet, quite unlike the last time.

5

4

3

2

…

1

…

It goes up, smoke. Piercing the sky. And then it comes down, the cameras follow you to find it, then they talk to you. Then it’s over, done, finito. Your adventure closes. The cameras and trucks being pulling out before the sun sets. It’s just you, the kids, the producer and your mentors.

The next day, you hop on a plane. You’re home. No cameras, no rockets, just home. The biggest excitement you’ve had is gone, it just ended. You sit around. Your friends distract you. Each day you desire the desert more than the last. You’re trying to live in the past, remembering the days of the Rocket Project.

On comes October, you’ve gotten over it for the most part, you feel whole again. Then, the producer calls. They’re showing the video in a few weeks at the production studios.

You see it, you watch it. It’s done and over. Finito. Then you’re depressed. It’s all over, it’d all done. Come February, the website is gone. Every trace of the project is dissapearing. All you’re left with are the memories and the friends. You hope they’ll last

So, this is a bit of a thank you to Tom, David, Andrew, Rob, Amy, 180LA, Radical Media, Sony and the countless people working behind the scenes that made this memory possible