by Peter A Schaefer
"The tankfiller's finished!" Kelsie yelled. "It's rocket time!" My hoe fell on the dusty soil, and our excited cheers echoed off the canyon walls as we ran home to get ready for the trip to the rocketpad.
Everybody went. Kids like us walked fast. Adults walked slow. Only the ones patching a fuelpipe, burst during the tank filling, didn't come. I could see them in the distance when we reached the overlook. The crowd was already there, blankets laid out with food and everything. From up there we could see the rocket, surrounded by the machines that had built it over the last ten years, a safe distance back from the launch.