Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Out of Options
Alvin’s POV
No one at the table said a word. Eleanor, Theodore, Jeanette, Simon, Brittany, myself, all looked at each other in shock and disbelief. Dave seemed somber but hardly surprised.
“Do any of you have any questions?” our agent, Dan Helling, asked the six of us.
I couldn't in all honesty speak for anyone else in the dimly lit room, but I could sure try, and I for one felt insulted. Here this guy was, a man we had met not five months ago who had been our manager for a total of four shows, telling us our careers were essentially over.
Again, no one said anything.
“Come on, guys,” Dave piped up. “This isn't the end. Not even close.”
“Really?” Brittany retorted. “Because that’s what it sounds like.”
Mr. Helling sighed. “Look, attendance at your concerts has steadily dropped for a full two years. There are bands that never had a platinum record - even some that haven't played together for decades - that are getting more clicks… selling more albums. Singing chipmunks used to be an exciting, fresh novelty, but the shock factor has died and the fact of the matter is that most people just don’t enjoy your voices.”
“Y-you’re our agent,” I said. “Isn’t it your job to fix this?”
“It’s my job to ensure that you guys remain as profitable as possible through the twilight of your careers,” he said, looking at me frankly. “That means scaling things down a bit. Doing a lot of non-music related projects. Performing in smaller venues. Doing whatever it takes to squeeze every dollar out of you guys until you retire in a year, maybe two.”
Anyone who knew me knew that the phrase “scaling down” wasn't in my vocabulary. I kept my mouth shut, but I knew this was bothering everybody. It was a slap in the face. No longer popular, on the last leg of our careers. Soon to be washed up and forgotten, at only the age of 18.
Without a word, I hopped off my chair onto the floor and started walking towards the door, wanting to exit Helling's office before I said something I'd regret. The others quickly followed my lead.
Dave followed behind us. He opened the door for us while Mr. Helling still sat at the table. As we filed out, he turned his head politely towards our visibly disappointed manager and said, “Let us know if you come up with anything.”
Mr. Helling cracked a cordial smile at him and nodded as Dave shut the door softly behind himself.
Simon’s POV
The car ride home was mostly silent, minus Dave’s 80’s rock station.
“Soon, we’re gonna be as washed up as whoever sings this damn song,” Alvin moaned.
“ Alvin !” Dave scolded.
Alvin shut up. This was hard news for all of us to hear, despite how evident it was that Dave knew well before the meeting with Helling. But this was all clearly especially hard on Alvin. I think he always envisioned that his music life would never die, that he was infallible. Now he was dealing with his own mortality, and it wasn’t pretty.
“I refuse to let myself slip like that,” Alvin said. “Dave, we need a new manager. Mr. Helling has got to go.”
“Mr. Helling isn’t the problem here,” Dave replied. “He’s just trying to make the most out of a bad situation.”
“Well ever since you hired him, all he’s been focused on is down-sizing and it’s because of that that our numbers have been slipping! He hasn’t been getting us out there enough!”
“Alvin…” Brittany said softly as she put her hand on Alvin’s shoulder.
He frowned as he looked into her eyes, then let his eyes sink back to the floor of the car.
Again, this was hurting all of us, but Alvin was taking it especially hard. And the rest of the car ride was pretty much silent. Minus the 80’s rock.
Brittany’s POV
We all still had that sick feeling in our stomachs as Dave's car screeched to a stop in our driveway. And I didn’t know how to make Alvin feel better. The second we stepped foot inside the house, he just went straight up to his room and didn’t come out or make a sound.
I gave him a half hour or so before I went up and knocked on his door.
“Who is it?” his voice softly responded through the door.
I turned the doorknob and walked in. “Your favorite,” I said flirtatiously.
“Oh…” he sighed, sitting on his bed facing his window. “Hey Brit.”
I walked up to him and sat myself right next to him. “You know, Al’, we’re gonna be fine. We already have enough money that if we spend it wisely… we can live comfortably for the rest of our lives.”
He shook his head. “It’s not about the money, Brit. It’s about my purpose. My pride, my legacy. My music. Music is my life, and I can’t just let it go.”
“We can get into other things,” I tried. “It’s not like we’re just gonna be sitting around, bored.”
“Then what will we do? Simon and Jeanette aren’t sweating it; they can get into any field of work they want. And Theo and Ellie are already getting the green light for that cooking show they’ve always wanted. They’ll still be able to follow their passions. Music is my passion.”
I smiled and winked at him. “If you ask me, being a showoff is your passion.” He rolled his eyes and grinned. “Plus I can think of one or two other things that you seem to be pretty passionate about,” I said, taking care to make it very obvious what I was referring to. I leaned in close to his ear and whispered, “and those won’t go away with our record deals.”
He hugged me, but then I heard him sigh. Embracing him in return, I silently hoped that I had improved his self esteem, if only just a little bit.
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Later that night, I noticed Alvin didn’t feel as warm as he usually does. He was shivering, despite the fact that he had all the covers.
Dave hadn’t really cared about us sleeping together since we had turned 18. Not that we had waited that long to try.
Neither of us said a word that night. We merely spooned and waited for our alarm clock to go off in the morning. Not unlike how we were all just waiting for our fame and fortunes to slowly dwindle down until there was nothing left.
Eleanor’s POV
It was already 7 am, and Alvin and Brittany still weren’t awake. Not that we were surprised, being pretty sure their motivation to work was long gone after the previous day's meeting.
We all sat around our kitchen table, including Dave, having already eaten breakfast.
“Should we just get to work without them?” I asked.
Dave shook his head. “I actually have something very important to talk to all of you about,” he said, “before we get started on anything.”
As if on que, we heard Alvin’s bedroom door upstairs open and close, with two pairs of tiny feet pit-patting their way down the stairs. They both entered the kitchen, side by side, looking groggy from lack of sleep.
“Morning, you two,” Dave said, somewhat uncomfortable. No matter the pathetic job the two of them had done keeping their intimacy a secret for years, he had never truly gotten used to the idea of any of us sleeping together.
Alvin quickly noticed that we were waiting for them. “What’s this all about Dave?” he said, yawning.
“Sit down,” Dave said, his grimace transforming into an excited grin. “I have exciting news.”
Alvin’s ears perked as he took a seat.
Once we were all seated and looking at Dave in anticipation, he allowed his grin to turn into an ear to ear smile. “Ok, so Mr. Helling got back to me last night.”
Everyone looked like they had been let down already, especially Alvin.
“No no no, you’re going to like this,” Dave insisted. “At least, I think you guys might. At least some of you. But we can't do it if everyone's not on board. Frankly, I'm still not sure how I feel about it.”
“Dave,” Simon interrupted, “What is it?”
Dave bit his lip, pondered for a moment, and said, “he told me that NASA is planning a mission to Mars. But they don’t just want astronauts to go. They specifically invited you six to take part.”
Everyone’s eyes were wide with amazement.
Dave continued, “he wasn't able to explain why, exactly. You know, why you six in particular? But he said he'd be able to set up a meeting with the heads of the department.”
We all stared up at him, dumbfounded, our mouths hanging partially open as if everyone wanted to respond but were hoping one of the other five would speak up instead. With so much to consider with as momentus of a news break as I had received in my life, the right words failed to reach my tongue.
“Well?” Dave prodded us. “What do you guys say? Want to hear them out?”
Jeanette’s POV
You could tell that everyone was nervous as Dave powered up his MacBook, while we all stood on the kitchen table directly in front of its monitor. Mr. Helling, who had driven down to our house for the meeting, was the only one who truly seemed relaxed. “There’s no need to be anxious,” he assured us. “This isn’t a job interview, per se. They came to me because they want you six specifically. If anything, they are nervous about how you feel about this entire concept. They’re mostly going to be pitching the trip to you.”
That made us feel a little better. Or, at least, it made me feel better. I had to admit that the prospect of visiting space was exciting for me, no less Mars. But I had my doubts, especially when it came to a government agency that seemed to be trying to use celebrities for a publicity stunt.
The MacBook screen finally came alive, and just in time for 1pm. We all tensed and waited in anticipation, when suddenly the Facetime app opened with an incoming call. It was an unknown number from Austin, Texas. Dave hesitated, as if having a few extremely late second thoughts, before finally clicking the green button at the bottom of the screen.
The live video feed went full screen, showing two men sitting in front of a plain white wall. The man on the left was wearing a nice suit and tie with thick brown hair combed to the side. The man on the right was mostly bald, wearing an outdated pair of glasses and a white lab coat.
The man in the suit looked at all of us and said, “Hey all, how are you guys doing.”
We all looked at each other before Dave answered for us, “We’re fantastic, how are you guys?”
“Great! Great… well I should introduce myself. I’m Julian Mitchell, I’m NASA’s Public Relations Department Head, and with me right now is Tom Butler, who’s been assigned to direct the mission that we hop you guys agree to take part in. He’ll be the head honcho behind the whole operation.”
The bald man nodded at us and said in a heavy southern accent, “pleasure to meet you all.”
“The pleasure is all ours, sir,” I said nervously.
“Charming,” Tom responded, clicking his tongue.
“Yes, well, I’m sure you all have a lot of questions,” Julian said.
Without answering verbally, a few of us nodded while the rest waited patiently.
“Well, let me give you the rundown,” Julian began. “Essentially, we’re trying to land non-professional astronauts on the planet Mars for the first time in history. Thanks to recent revelations in rocket technology, among other things, we have the means to not only equip you guys with the ability to travel all the way to Mars in about 1 week, but you’ll have enough fuel to get you all the way back as well. This will be an absolute spectacle; unlimited press coverage… millions of people rooting for you as brave pioneers.”
Alvin barely attempted to hide how much his interest was peaked.
“So how long, in total, would we be gone?” Theodore asked.
“If all goes according to plan, exactly 44 days,” Tom said abruptly.
“See, you’re going to fly there for 7 days, set up base camp and live there for exactly 30 days, then take another 7 to pack up and return home,” Julian clarified.
“I have some questions myself,” I said.
“Ask away,” Julian shrugged.
“This whole thing seems eerily similar to the Challenger mission back around 1986. Are you familiar?”
Julian nodded. “That tragedy could have been avoided if only someone had heeded many… material deficiency concerns that were brought up immediately before the launch,” he said solemnly. “We’ve learned from that incident. We have implemented numerous programs and processes designed specifically to prevent anything like that ever again, and they have been successful. Nothing even close to that awful has happened since then.”
“Ok, I hear you,” I said, shrugging, “but I also still have my doubts that you guys could physically get us to and from Mars in 2 weeks. Seems quite impossible to me. I mean the latest estimates I've found on a one way trip to Mars are for about six months.”
“Well see, that’s where you guys come in,” Julian said.
Tom once again interjected, “you six offer the unique advantage in that you think and act just like human beings, but are considerably smaller. All of the equipment, including the shuttle, will be chipmunk-size. Perfect for you guys to live comfortably, and due to the fractional amount of mass as compared to any rocket we've launched prior, it will take far less energy to propel you guys into higher speeds. That, combined with the utilization of a nuclear reactor supplying propulsion, will allow us to send you up with enough fuel for the return trip.”
“Wait wait wat!” Simon bursted. “We’re not going to have any experienced astronauts with us?”
“That’s correct,” Tom said.
“But see, you’d each go through an extensive training camp to prepare you and teach you the ins and outs of the mission,” Julian said.
“So this means that either we agree to this mission, or there’s no mission at all?” I asked.
“That’s correct,” Tom said. “The choice is all yours. If you accept, you will be compensated with 750,000 dollars each, and we can fly you down here on our dime for your training. But please get back to us as soon as possible so Julian can make an announcement.”
“Will do, you guys,” Dave said, “Thank you.”
Tom nodded, before the screen went dark with the words “Unknown Caller has ended the call”.
Theodore’s POV
Dave sighed. We all had our doubts, but I think we all simultaneously wanted to do it.
“Well,” Mr. Helling piped up, “you want a popularity boost, this is as close to a sure thing as you can get.”
Dave nodded. “Look you guys, you’re all 18. You’re adults, which means this is your decision. Is there anyone that definitely doesn’t want to do it?”
No one made a move.
“Ok, so is there anyone who definitely does want to?”
Alvin raised his hand right away, followed closely by Simon and Jeanette.
The three of us who were holding out studied the room, anticipating the peer pressure which we knew was coming our way. But the persuasion attempts did not begin as quickly as I would have expected, possibly because neither Alvin, Simon, or Jeanette could determine quite how to convince us.
After a moment of additional hesitation, Eleanor raised her hand as well, and when she saw the worried look I gave her, she said, “this is our once-in a lifetime chance, Theo. To do something incredible.”
Well, that was all I needed to hear. If Eleanor is going, then it was my job to protect her. I raised my hand. That just left Brittany, who was the most visibly on the fence out of all six of the chipmunks.
“Brit,” Alvin said softly, “We just need this one little thing. This one thing and our careers are back on track. Don’t you ever miss the days of being adored by the public?”
“Adored by the public for my appearance, or my clothes… or at least my singing voice. Alvin, we have no experience and no business going into space. Simon and Jeanette? Sure. They have the brain power. The rest of us? I'm just not sure we're cut out for it.”
“Look,” Alvin sighed at her, “everything will be fine. Those people at NASA want this to succeed just as badly as we do. They wouldn't put us in that space ship until we're truly ready.”
She looked at the floor, eyes darting from left to right, likely considering the multiple worst-case scenarios going through her mind.
“Please, Brit,” Alvin pleaded, “I swear to you I won't let anything bad happen.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she grumbled before raising her hand.
Dave looked like he wanted to cry, both tears of joys and sadness. “I guess that settles it,” he said. “Everyone pack your things, we’re going to Austin.”