Gary's Massive Head Shouting Forever — Part Seven

By Kieran McCaffrey

Gary phones the projector salesman, agrees to pay his removal price, to pay another fortune for the team to come today, to perform an installation while they’re here. But not in the apartment. Up on the roof.

Then he walks back into town as second dawn rises over the dome and spends the rest of their savings.

He gets back just as the installation team arrives. They laugh, of course they do. Tears in their eyes as they work out a plan to get up there, mirthful little head shakes as Gary shows them the roof access.

In his office, he films a new video, converts it to 3D, has to get one of the installation team to show him how to send it to the projectors.

Then, sweaty and shaky and with his heart thumping out his chest, he climbs up to the roof himself. He finds if he lies down dead centre it’s not too bad. And it gives him a great view of his projection.

It looks good, even in daylight. It’s just a short clip, slowed down massively—Gary’s hand holding two one-way tickets to Earth, the paper waving gently, as if in the wind.

He waits for second dusk. Beneath him, everything he’s ever known. Somewhere above, Fajar and their baby, and everything to come.

He wants to be up here, because tonight she returns, and her shuttle will fly over the dome, and of course she’ll be staring out the window, trying to pick out her home. She’ll see the tickets, and she’ll smile.

And maybe at the same moment he’ll see her shuttle, and he’ll wave and say I’m sorry and You were right and Fajar, I’m ready to change.

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Kieran McCaffrey lives in the west of Scotland and writes stories and music and captions for the telly. His work has appeared in State Of Matter and has been shortlisted for the 2025 Cymera Prize. Find him at kieranm.bsky.social.

Copyright © 2025 Kieran McCaffrey

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