He couldn’t believe how often his mind wandered to the horrifying political climate lately. He focusing again on a few chef candidates he’d considered. The people on the ship weren’t going to get a lifetime supply of hot dogs, even if Sam could eat those for every meal. Sure, there were plenty of International Space Station tips to follow, but Tom hadn’t the slightest idea how to get there.
The spaceship was going to need someone who could make genetically engineered food as well as being an excellent chef. Everything they ate would have to be produced or engineered. After speaking with several well-known chefs, Tom had realized none of them had a clue how to make meals this way. Tom had decided to look for a chef as well as a nutritionist and a botanist to develop tasty, meals and prepare them. Nutrition would be vital on the mission.
Tom’s cell buzzed. It was a call from a Chicago area code. He hadn’t expected a call from Dr. Sato. He answered.
“Hello, Dr. Burns?”
“Yes?”
“This is Luis Gonzales. We spoke a week ago—”
“Of course, I remember, Luis.”
While visiting Chicago to meet with Dr. Sato, he had met Luis Gonzales, a chef who worked at a Mexican restaurant chain for ten years. Tom had just happened to eat there one night and had enjoyed the food. He had chicken enchiladas, rice, and beans. He had asked the waiter to introduce him to the chef.
Ten minutes later Luis had come out, and they had shaken hands. When Tom asked him about his background, Luis had seemed hesitant to answer. Tom had immediately known that Luis was probably an illegal immigrant who had managed to escape detection under Trump. Tom had assured him he was not working for the government or ICE and not going to do anything to harm Luis. He was looking for a chef to come with him into space to serve food daily for a thousand people until they found a new home.
Luis had said, “What do you mean space? What’s the catch?”
“The catch is that there will not be regular food on board as you have at this restaurant. All the food will either have to be genetically engineered or possibly grown on the ship using scientific methods. Of course, you will have your own kitchen and have to serve a thousand people daily, so I doubt you are going to be able to make elaborate seven-course meals. Plus, you might have to do this for a hundred years or so. Don’t worry about a hundred years. Just worry about the food.”
Jose had replied, “I don’t care where I go as long as I can call it home and be among good amigos and amigas. Let me tell you about myself. Since I started working as a chef fifteen years ago, I have mainly cooked Mexican cuisine. I started off as a busboy and then worked my way to an assistant chef, and now I am the head chef of this nice Mexican place. However, I can cook dishes from a variety of cultures such as Chinese and Japanese.”
Tom was glad that Luis was following up with him now. He wasn’t sure whether or not Luis was interested beyond entertaining the thought. He walked into the kitchen to make himself some lunch.
“So, have you given it some thought, Luis? And can you cook hot dogs?”
“I have and, I’m pretty good at hot dogs. Some people say it’s the meanest dog they’ve ever seen and they love each bite!”
“Good, my son—”
“Say no more… I know. The simpler the better. Anyway, yes, your invitation intrigues me. I wanted to give you a call and ask you a few questions. Will we ever return to Earth? I do not have any family left, as I was too scared to marry and have children, not knowing what the future would hold. Many people I know have been sent back to Mexico or other countries to a life that is not desirable or financially acceptable. They may be alive, but they are basically dead.”
Tom said, “I respect your answers and questions. You seem to be a real nice guy. I want you to know that whatever we discuss is confidential, and I will not disclose this conversation to anyone. We won’t be returning. On the plus side, however, you can never be deported back to Earth. There will be no ICE in space. The trip will take many years, and you will be very old, but in good health with our medical team on board. You can experiment with making new kinds of food. I do not think everyone will want to eat Mexican food, or hot dogs, every day for the rest of their lives.”
“Hmmm. Will I be able to hire my own staff, with your approval? It takes more than one chef to cook for a thousand people.”
“Of course. You will need to hire a variety of chefs to provide the food.”
“Dr. Burns, you have yourself a deal. When do I start, and what is the salary?”
Tom said, “You will start as soon as the spaceship is ready and we start moving people on board. This will take a little time. The salary is zero. But don’t worry. My salary is also zero. Everything will be provided for free as long as you do your job. One thing you will not have to worry about is how you’re treated. If anyone thinks negatively about others, they are not going with us. President Trump treated people with the utmost disrespect. On this ship, we all treat each other with the utmost respect. There will be no discrimination or racial problems on board. Everyone must work together as one big team or family if we want to survive this trip. That will be drilled into everyone’s minds.”
They ended the call. Tom noticed that he’d boiled all the water out of his pan before he’d had a chance to steam his broccoli.
“Shoot.”
He added more water, put the pan back on the burner, and lowered the heat. He’d eat eventually. He sat down at his kitchen table and wrote down all the other people he needed to contact to set up some time to discuss the launch. Sam was going to be home from school in a couple of hours and his wife wanted them to spend a bit more time that evening putting together one of Sam’s third-grade science projects.
Sam had told his dad that he wanted to design a planet to study planet habitability eventually. But first, he was supposed to work on a diagram about the stages in the life cycle of a star, show the sequence of stellar evolution, and be able to simply explain the lifecycle of massive stars, extending it to focus on what it might mean to life on Earth later. They needed to determine the mass of the three stars that Sam chose for his school activity and figure out what they would become either thru illustrations or using objects and creating a video.
Tom couldn’t wait. He’d been waiting for the chance to work with his son on it for a while. They spent the evening getting everything ready for his presentation. Sam was excited and felt confident about his video.
A few days later he met Michelle Nixon, a nutritionist, who was employed at Tom’s exercise club. She had recently earned her master’s degree in nutrition from Arizona State University online program. She also had no family, as both of her parents had died tragically in an automobile accident. She was very young but had a lot of enthusiasm.
Michele asked Tom, “Have you hired a chef yet? I know we will be working closely together, and we will need to compromise on certain things and get along.
Can I meet or call him?”
Tom said, “I have hired a chef who is an expert in cooking Mexican food and will be working to develop as much bio-engineered food as possible. I do hope you two get along well. I love to eat balanced diets, but once in a while like to eat junk. My son loves hot dogs and Luis, my chef, promised me he will make them for my son and anyone else who enjoys them.”