CAPE CANAVERAL, FLORIDA. At position 22 in the spectator queue, our observation began. The United Launch Alliance returns its Vulcan rocket to flight on Friday the 13th, the vehicle's first flight with the full complement of six solid rocket boosters. Six is the maximum. The date was fixed by orbital mechanics, weather, and range availability; the fear of the date was added afterward, by the species, free of charge. In the first hour, the queue produced 31 references to the weather, 9 to the height of the rocket, and 0 to the date. At minute nine it produced its fourth apology, concerning a folding chair. The apology was accepted. The chair was not seen again. Latecomers were directed to a waiting list, the queue of the queue, which was also not discussing the date.
The species keeps a formal hazard file on the numeral. Towers label the floor after twelve as fourteen, and the elevators comply without comment. A minority of locals will not sign contracts, marry, or visit the bank (an institution licensed to store numbers) on the day, presumably to keep the numbers safe. No bank has ever lost a number to the date. The minority is not taking chances. The vehicle follows the opposite doctrine. A solid rocket booster, once lit, cannot be shut down, and the engineers call this simple: a device that cannot be stopped offers fewer decisions.
"The date is not chosen. It is what the window gives you," said Petra Ilves, solid propulsion integration lead for the flight. "Nobody on this crew schedules around folklore. The countdown will pass through thirteen like any other number. We have watched it do this. It does not slow down." Ilves confirmed that the crew bus departs at 12:58, preserving a standard two-minute margin. "The margin is for the bus," she said. "The bus is not superstitious. The bus is, however, real."
At minute 74, the date received its first mention, from a child in a stroller, who asked why the launch was happening on the unlucky day. The reply came from Dale Prentiss, a retired crane operator holding position 9. "You can't jinx your own work. That would be rude," he said. "The twelfth we built. The fourteenth we built. The thirteenth, nobody built it. That's where the luck gets in." The queue accepted the finding. The child received a piece of dried mango, and the matter was considered closed.
Our tally closed at 17:40, as the queue dispersed in good order: weather, 61; the rocket's height, 19; apologies, 23, none addressed to the date; the date itself, 4, three of the four followed within four seconds by a qualifier. The colony has domesticated chemistry, thunder, and the explosion itself. The calendar square remains feral.
