Everyday, with Dr. Elias Locke
The Rocket That Needed a Porch Permit
Saturday, October 24, 2026
Saturday.
There was a rocket on my porch this morning.
Not a large one. Just large enough to upset the neighbors and small enough that the dog considered it furniture.
I had built the thing from a retired boiler, three radio parts, and a lawn mower that had never shown any particular enthusiasm for mowing.
Its name was the Perseverance.
The neighborhood inspector arrived before breakfast.
“Is that a spacecraft?” she asked.
“Only when it’s working.”
“Do you have a permit?”
“I have a receipt for the lawn mower.”
“That’s not a permit.”
“Well, it wasn’t much of a lawn mower either.”
She opened a clipboard thick enough to stop a meteorite.
“Residential property is zoned for sitting, gardening, and occasional barbecues. It is not zoned for departures.”
I gestured toward my rocking chair.
“Madam, I’ve departed from that chair emotionally at least six times this week.”
She didn’t write that down.
The dog, meanwhile, had fallen asleep under the engine nozzle. I named him acting flight director, which was a mistake. He immediately instituted a policy against loud noises, sudden movements, and doing anything before lunch.
The inspector asked for the flight plan.
“Up,” I said.
“Destination?”
“Somewhere with fewer clipboards.”
“Return date?”
“Depends whether they have coffee.”
She sighed. I signed a form. The rocket coughed, rattled, and rose exactly six inches before settling back onto the porch.
The dog opened one eye.
The inspector stamped the paperwork: SUCCESSFUL DEPARTURE.
“Six inches?” I asked.
“Outside the permitted altitude,” she replied.
Now, I admire a woman who can enforce an ordinance against gravity, but I do believe the universe deserves a chance to appeal.
So here’s the Saturday observation: some journeys begin with a great leap. Others begin with discovering that your front porch has a ceiling nobody told you about.
I put the rocket back in its cradle, poured another coffee, and promoted the dog to director of long-range planning.
He has scheduled our next launch for after his nap.
Frankly, it’s the most sensible timeline I’ve heard all week.
A fictional column from the Electric Icarus universe, created by Jon LaBelle
