by Mary A. Turzillo

The Emperor of Greater Bluvia,

thinking to impress his favorite concubine,

the exquisite (but innocent) provincial Justina,

bought a ride on EOS, the Earth to Orbit Shuttle.

And to be doubly impressive

(for Emperors can be both egotistical

and insecure),

the Emperor conducted a contest

for the very best space suit design

in which to do his princely space walk,

which Justina would observe

through a powerful telescope

constructed for her and her alone

to observe this majestic EVA

(which stands for Extra Vehicular Activity).

(My darlings, if you disdain

Three Letter Acronyms

best read some other legend.)

The space suit engineers

from MIT and RIT and NASA and the ESA

and other acronymic bodies

put out their very best,

constructed of fabrics and plates and flexible joints

almost magical in their resilience,

suits designed to withstand hard vacuum

and cold and heat and even

solar flares and cosmic rays,

also with advanced flexibility and added radios 

and on-board bathrooms and showers

and snack tubes and sun-lamps

and a fur codpiece in one,

a soothing Thai massage in another

and flexible motorized motion augmentation

 to allow skateboarding

and ballroom dancing

and even hula-hooping.

He rejected each space suit in turn.

Two lowly engineering undergrads

stood at the end of the contest lineup

with nothing, it seemed, but air

between them.

"Do you mock my magnificence?"

roared the Emperor in his most imperious voice.

"No," said the first, a shy

bespectacled sophomore

with a dirty blonde ponytail

and acne scars.

Her partner, who had a way of letting his gaze slide away

asserted in a squeaky voice,

"Your Magnificence, this suit is designed

with the most advanced optical camouflage

ever developed. Our advisor

holds the patent, but allowed us

to use it, just this once, for your suit.

"Try it. Do, try it."

They helped the Emperor into their suit

and toggled each toggle

and zipped each zipper

and clamped down the helmet

and checked the gauges and hoses

and asked, "How does it feel?"

"It fits like a glove!

Why, I feel as if I am wearing nothing at all!

So light! So transparent!

My hands flex, my knees bend--

You, my children, get the prize."

And his minions wrote the prize check 

for three million Euros.

"For hark!" said the undergrad's advisor

"only the best and brightest understand 

and can sense this wonderful space suit.

To the uneducated it will seem invisible."

And the scientists and engineers and astronauts and cosmonauts and taikonauts

seeing that their own designs had no chance,

began to murmur that it was indeed a fine design,

yes, the lines were a bit blurry

the color faded into the background,

but that was a good thing

and they took no exception 

to the undergrads' design.

Came the day

when the Emperor arrived

at the Orbiting Star Station

having overcome 

his unseemly space-sickness,

and determined to step through an airlock

into the bright/dark of space

to crown his Imperial feat

as the first Imperial astronaut.

And so he took off all his clothes

even his majestic jockey shorts

and his Imperial tube socks.

The two undergraduates came forward.

They toggled the toggles

and zipped the zippers

and clamped the helmet

and checked the gauges and hoses

and declared him safe to go 

Outside.

And he entered the airlock.

He knew that Justina

exotic, naive, candid, authentically womanly

would be watching.

He had commissioned a special telescope, 

just for her,

and that telescope would be trained on him.

He would wave, and she would wave back.

(Although he wouldn't see her.

One of the losing designs had had a special

video receiver so he could see Justina

at the moment of his triumph

and for a moment he regretted

not choosing that one,

except it was ugly and clunky 

and an unstylish shade of puce

and the helmet made him look like a popcorn machine.)

He approached the airlock

and the engineers and scientists 

and astronauts and cosmonauts and taikonauts

all murmured their admiration

of the brilliant design.

And the Emperor stepped into the air lock

and the air was voided into space

and the Emperor showed no discomfort

for this was a most cunningly designed space suit

and he gloried in the image he must cut

to his beautiful Justina

who he almost married once

except that he couldn't get permission

from his first wife

whose father ran the biggest bank in Greater Bluvia.

And the Emperor floated to the door of the airlock

and pushed himself out 

onto the hull 

of the Orbiting Star Station.

The invisible magnetic boots 

held him to the metal hull.

The invisible helmet surrounded his head

with the sweetest and most breathable air.

The invisible renewing oxygen tanks

sent deliciously perfumed oxygen

to his Imperial nostrils.

And he said,

this is what it is to be Imperious!

Now I, Emperor of Greater Bluvia,

am truly famous in history as the first 

space-faring Emperor!

And the scientists and engineers

and astronauts and cosmonauts and taikonauts

held their breath, for it was true!

The invisible space suit 

was the best space suit ever designed.

And the Emperor began to do jigs and skips, 

and pirouettes and cartwheels

on the surface of the Orbiting Star Station.

For he was now the greatest,

and his lovely Justina would be impressed

and would love him for himself 

and not just for the ten million Euros

he spent on her villa in Lorentz.

And then Justina, trembling with admiration,

set her gaze to the eyepiece of her special telescope.

And she drew back.

For nobody had prepared her.

Nobody had told her what to see.

And she said, "But he is naked!"

She said this on satellite TV.

Now the Emperor, 

because he had taken his smart phone with him,

heard this exclamation

and his skin began to freeze and boil

and his eyes began to blur

and his body felt that it might explode

and the Emperor

poor Emperor

very shortly

knew no more.

And the scientists and engineers and astronauts and cosmonauts and taikonauts 

and the viewing public and everybody in heaven and earth

saw the Emperor effervesce like a headache tablet in water. 

And they said, yes, I knew it, but I didn't want to say,

and well, the design was innovative, but really--

and I'm glad he was brave enough to be the first to try it.

And this only proves, my darlings,

that the truth is a dangerous thing,

and that neither money nor love nor the acclamation of experts

can save you from hard vacuum.