Homeless Man Building a Spaceship

“Hey man, have a dollar to spare?”

The smell of Manhattan stays with you long after you’ve left that city. I like to walk instead of taking the subway though, there’s something about how busy this city is that I like to feel in my spine, on my skin, on the back of my neck. The sun isn’t tall enough yet at this time in the morning to peek over the buildings. But even though it’s early, there are already so many people on the street that it’s impossible to recognize any one individual face.

It feels like a race about to begin, all of us, the thousands of us, waiting for the walking man of white light to give us permission to cross the street.

And this man is asking me for money.

“Common man. Anything you have on you. I’m building a spaceship and I need a few extra dollars. Any change you got on you man.”

I turned to lay my eyes on a man who seemed to have lived for an eternity and worn the same outfit throughout. His skin looked stiff and dry, like his hair. His eyebrows had grown in length enough to braid them. But he has a clean shave. Surprisingly perfect. And he’s asking me for money to build a spaceship. My face is smiling and I don’t even know it.

“You building a spaceship?”

“That’s right. I’m getting out of this shit.”

“Where are you going?”

“Keiser.”

“I have no idea where that is.”

“Damn right you don’t. Neither does the Government. That’s why I’m going there.”

“You going alone?”

“Why you asking? You want to come with?”

“No, no. Just curious. This Keiser place sounds like it’s far away. Just curious if you’re taking anyone to keep you company.”

“You seem quite nosey about my spaceship. You don’t work for the Government, do you?”

My face couldn’t hold back a smile. “No, not at all. I work in advertising.”

The light turned green, and with it, the halting palm of red light turned to the walking man of white light. The glacier of people behind me started to move in unison, almost taking me with them. I moved out of the way. I want to give this poor man some change.

“How much do you need to get it finished?”

“Not much. Why, you loaded?”

I laughed. “I have a few dollars I could help you out with.”

“Wait. You can’t give me money just like that. You haven’t even seen the plans yet.”

“It’s alright Sir. I’m kind like that.”

“Not kind enough to take a look at the blueprints.”

“Why do I have to see the blueprints to give you money?”

“So you know what you’re investing in.”

“But it’s only a few dollars. It’s not an investment Sir, it’s a gift.”

“Did you say, ‘dollars,’ plural? Wow, that’ll make you my biggest stockholder.”

“Alright, show me the blueprints.”

“But give me the dollars first. I don’t want you stealing my design.”

“I’m not in need of a spaceship, Sir.”

“Wait, so you’re not investing anymore?”

“Ah! Ok, hold on.” I said with more exhale than normal, my jaw clinched.

I started digging around in my pant’s pockets.

The solid wall of humans was passing me by, blurry, as if it were one large organism. The sounds of car motors and car horns and car drivers were all trying to get into my ears at once, pushing and shoving. The city was leaving me behind. I checked my watch.

“So what are you running from, man?” asked the old man, lighting a cigarette that he held between two wrinkled, crooked fingers. The fingers had perfect manicured nails.

“What do you mean? I’m on my way to work.” I said, my hand still in my pocket looking for disposable wealth.

“Everybody’s running from something, man. What are you running from?”

“I don’t run from things.”

“Sure,” a cloud of smoke escaped his mouth.

“You’re the one building a spaceship, old man. What are you running from?”

“You already know enough, kid.”

“Hey, if I’m going to invest in this, I need to know what it’s for.”

“To get to Keiser, kid. To get to Keiser.”

“Yea, but why? Why do you want to go to Quasar?”

“Keiser.”

“Right, Keiser.”

“When you know what you’re running from, kid, you’ll understand,” another puff of smoke, thick as cream, floated out of the corners of his mouth.

“I’m not running from anything.”

“You haven’t live in New York for too long, have you?”

“Yea, I just moved here. How can you tell?”

“You don’t have one wrinkle on your face.”

“Right, but I’m also 24.”

“Most locals look 42 by the age of 24.”

My fingers found a ball of crumbled bills and fished them out. It was a five-dollar bill and two ones all crumbled up together, one little family. I straightened them out and offered them to the old man. He took another puff of his cigarette, looked at the money and exhaled grey. Some of the smoke getting lost somewhere in the forest of his eyebrows.

“What’s this?” asked the old man, his eyes squinting, looking at me, insulted.

“It’s my investment for the spaceship.”

“Seven dollars? You have any idea how much a spacesuit costs?”

“Look old man. I’m just trying to help.”

“Why don’t you answer the question?”

“What question?” I looked at my watch again.

“What are you running from?”

“Look man. I need to be at work in nine minutes. I don’t want to be late. Just take the money, alright!”

Smoke floated in front of the old man’s face, “Sure kid, run away from this, too.”

“What!? I’m not running away, I need to be at work. Just take goddamn money, and go build your spaceship.”

“But you haven’t seen the plans yet.”

“Look, I’m putting the money right here, on your bag. I need to go.”

I dropped the money on top of his worn out backpack at his feet. I stood up and turned to walk away. And something struck me.

I fell to the ground having lost my balance. There was a man in suit on the ground with me. His suitcase open, papers flying out.

“I’m so sorry!” said the man, having run into me while he was sprinting, late for work.

He started to gather all the papers while the rest of the world walked around us, without looking twice at the scene. No one cared. I stood up and watched the suited man hopelessly trying to gather his life back. With many of the papers now under the footsteps of the human train traveling by and around us, he closed the suitcase and kept on running.

I turned and the old man was gone, although I could still make out a small cloud of cigarette smoke hanging around. Where the man was standing, there were seven dollars, and rolled up blueprints. I stoop on top of them, looking in disbelief. I scanned around me but all I could make out was the mess that is New York City. The stench of Manhattan clogged up my lungs. New York City the soundtrack was now playing at full volume. I felt tense.

I kneeled down and reached for the blueprints.

I was late for work. And I didn’t care.