Jumping Day

The Flea has just started lowering, preparing to jump. And now, as the Springmaster, everything is up to me.

“Thank you for coming,” I say to the assembled inhabitants of Kirppu. There are seven hundred of us in the small city built on the back of the Flea. “As you know, we are almost at springpoint. Let me run through what to expect.”

No one alive today has ever lived through a spring before. We only have the accounts of Springmasters of the past all stored in the library in the highest tower of the city. The Springmaster before me never saw one—prepared his entire career for something that never happened.

“The Flea will spring forward towards the head, so everything will move towards the tail. So, make sure everything is fixed to the tailward wall of your house.

“The worst part will be the actual spring. You must be against something very strong and make sure nothing will fall on you. After a few hours, the Flea will be airborne and there will be no danger until we land.”

“Where are we going?” someone asks.

This is the other part of my job, the other half of my expertise. All my life I have watched by telescope as the other planet has approached: a dark mass that has loomed up until we are almost under its shadow.

“We know that the hair is thicker on that planet,” I say. “It is darker than this one and depending on where the Flea lands, we may be in shadow.”

There is murmuring at this. There are tales of being in shadow but no one in our lifetime has ever seen that. It is a difficult time, they say.

But there is no time to waste on worry. The population scatters to their homes to pack everything away and await the spring. I hurry up to my tower to pack away my books and telescope and get ready. Soon everything is ready and we wait.

Then it happens. The sudden push towards the tail and the Flea is moving forward. I hear a crash from lower down in the town as something breaks through its restraints. A book that was hidden under my bed slides back towards me. I catch it and hold on.

But then, before long, the push lessens and we are airborne. The whole town gathers on the railings to look down. Already we are out from among the long hairs of the only planet we’ve ever known. Several hours later, we can look down to the unguessable depths between the planets. Traveling the void, as the old records call it.

For a whole week the Flea is airborne. The novelty of being airborne wears off and people go back about their business until I call them together again to prepare for landing.

The instructions are similar. The only difference is that now everything must be pushed against the headward wall. The new planet is looming up so that we can see nothing else in front of us. The dark hairy surface looks formidable.

Then the hairs overtake us and we are among them. There is a lurch as we land and again things are thrown around. My door flies open and swings wildly.

Then, silence. We have landed. It is still sunny—shadier under the longer hairs, but we have missed the shadow.

The people congratulate me on a successful spring, then go back about their lives.

I am left suddenly empty. Everything I have worked for is done, and all the knowledge and preparation has been used and is now useless to me.

There is only one thing left for me to do before retirement: teach the next Springmaster.