© 2020 Matthew Stienberg
Mare Tranquillitatis, Luna, United States Lunar Territory, 2069 AD
In the vacuum of space you can’t hear the whir of the drones pneumatic levers as they drive pilons home. There’s no sound from vernier thrusters as they hover above you and gently kick up Lunar regolith around your feet. You can’t even feel it as it brushes against your suit in a fine dust. The barely perceptible mist is only a haze through your helmet. Beyond you lays the scope of the cosmos, stars barely visible, and the Earth not yet rising beyond the thin Lunar horizon.
“Damn pretty innit?” Your partner says to you.
“Mhm.” You agree absently over the radio in your helmet. He’s standing on the other side of the construction site, not even in line of sight, but he knows what you’re thinking all the same. Every old Lunar veteran already knows what a rookie on their first tour is thinking.
“Pretty soon it’s gonna be coming up over the horizon. Just you wait.”
You’ve seen the pictures of course. Who hasn’t? Earth cresting the Lunar horizon,a view so alien from what anyone on Earth is used to. Even the orbital hotels, with their position right above Earth, can’t claim a view like this one. Only the moon could provide it. That’s part of why you're up here though, because there’s only one great place to get a view like it.
The buildings going up already have sponsor logos, all from big multinational companies or the US government. Winged eagles, letters, mousy ears, and shining discs proclaim a ‘who's who’ of sponsors. They’re going to be pieces of the enormous rotunda celebrating mankind's first steps on a non-Terran body. You’re disappointed you can’t see them. They’re covered in heavy tenting, keeping them free of the moon dust as the other workers call it. They won’t be unveiled again until just before the grand opening, probably not until a few months from now. By then your tour on the Lunar surface will be over though.
It seems a shame, coming all the way to the moon and not seeing where the first man planted his footsteps.There were others of course, now brutally obscured by the first working visitors, run over by great automated Lunar rovers, or otherwise lost in the unthinking rush to profit from the cheaper access to orbit. Progress they say. Destruction some call it. All you know is the pay is great, even if no one can give you any real long term prognosis on the health risks. That’s okay, the consortium is footing the bill, and that money is going to keep you comfortable for the rest of your life. It’s well worth the risk.
“They say they’re gonna name the town up here Armstrong,” Your partner chatters away. You briefly wonder if he does this because of the silence of space is so obvious otherwise. It’s way too quiet when you first step onto the Lunar surface. Some people embrace it, others want to drive it away. He seems of the latter type.
“Big debate though. Others want to call it Apollo, more egalitarian to the other guys who flew that original mission you know?”
You resist the urge to nod and just go ‘mhm’ over the radio. Your partner continues obliviously.
“Some saying it should be named after the guys who first mapped it. Some medieval Italians naturally, Giovanni and Fabricio I think, well, F-something or other anyways.”
You're pretty sure he means Francesco Grimaldi. But correcting him would disrupt his flow, and he needs to talk.
“Then some other guy, big billionaire obviously, he says he wants to stamp his name on the spot. Government says no, they won’t let him name the spot no matter how much money he throws at it. Now some weird nerds on the net want to name it after science fiction writers. The one they had in mind has a crater on Mars named after him now though. I think his ghost will be happy with that.”
You nod, briefly forgetting for a moment the action is completely meaningless in a space suit.
“Still, I think it should be Armstrong, only seems respectful y’know?”
“Armstrong sounds fine.” You say. Only mildly interested in the constant one sided conversation floating through your headset.
There’s a flash on your Heads Up Display, a warning, a drone is misbehaving nearby. You swivel your head to give the remote operators at the base a better view and more visual data to supplement telemetry data. There’s a curse over the team radio as someone swings an automated crane out of the way of one of the hovering drones dropping the pylons which will support the great rotunda.
“This is why we watch the construction site, instead of the stars. Isn’t that right people?” The shift supervisor grumbles.
“Yes, of course.” You reply. A blush creeps into your face, and you’re glad no one can see you. It’s a rookie mistake and you’ll be hazed for it in the mess hall when you get back, but it’s okay. The stars are always worth it.
You go through the motions for another hour; watching, feeding visuals back to the drone controllers and supervisors, the monotony of construction in space. Soon the day’s shift will be done and the other work crews will come in. The rotunda is coming along, soon it will be time for the more delicate hands on work the drones can’t quite replicate yet. The later crews will go over your progress with a fine tooth comb and then in a few months the obscenely wealthy will flock to the spot where men first set foot on the moon. Some government official will probably jet up to oversee the ceremony, some fiery speech about something. Definitely not about working together. Not with the Chinese and the Russians already trying to muscle in.
Word had it the Chinese were hard at work developing Shackleton Crater on the South Pole, developing Malapert Mountain for their own needs. There’s always talk in the mess hall about the ‘slow start’ at Peary Crater on the North Pole. The supervisors don’t like that kind of talk, bad for morale they say, but they never crack down on it. They’re too curious.
“You’re doing it again.” Your partner chides. Startled, you swivel back to the site. You’d been looking towards the South Pole. “Look into the feeds when you’re back on base.”
Laughing, you keep focused for the last ten minutes of the shift until the supervisor announces the all clear. There’s a rover coming to drop off the next crew, and you bound towards your own rover, your partner coming around to meet you.
No one really walks on the moon. The gravity is too low. It’s a lot of hopping, or almost dainty foot falls. Moving with slow purpose. You hop, your partner moves daintily, with the careful steps of a Lunar veteran. You beat him to the rover easy, leaning on one of the massive kevlar and mesh tires.
“You’ll get tired of that real quick you know. Loses its charm after probably the fiftieth time you go bouncing around on the Lunar surface. Walk before you run rookie.” He passes you a thumbs up which you return. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of that.
“Though speaking of running, you hear they’re launching a space probe to Alpha Centauri next week? Those guys on Earth...”
You’re already tuning this news out as the hatch cycles open and you look over your shoulder. The tenting covering the Apollo 11 site is still there. Will be for a while yet. The rotunda takes shape, not yet having the feeling of permanence that the rest of the moon seems to exude. You look down at your own footprint, wondering how long it will take before it fades away, or is more likely walked over.
Your partner's warning rings in your ear. Will you get tired of it? Can all the wonder seen around you really end up as just a background to your work day? That seems impossible. How could it? It’s the moon, it can’t be just another tourist trap. Sparing one last look at the sheets on the rotunda, you wonder. You step inside, the hatch begins to close. It’s just another work day still.
In the vacuum of space you can’t hear the whir of the drones pneumatic levers as they drive pilons home. There’s no sound from vernier thrusters as they hover above you and gently kick up Lunar regolith around your feet. You can’t even feel it as it brushes against your suit in a fine dust. The barely perceptible mist is only a haze through your helmet. Beyond you lays the scope of the cosmos, stars barely visible, and the Earth not yet rising beyond the thin Lunar horizon.
“Damn pretty innit?” Your partner says to you.
“Mhm.” You agree absently over the radio in your helmet. He’s standing on the other side of the construction site, not even in line of sight, but he knows what you’re thinking all the same. Every old Lunar veteran already knows what a rookie on their first tour is thinking.
“Pretty soon it’s gonna be coming up over the horizon. Just you wait.”
You’ve seen the pictures of course. Who hasn’t? Earth cresting the Lunar horizon,a view so alien from what anyone on Earth is used to. Even the orbital hotels, with their position right above Earth, can’t claim a view like this one. Only the moon could provide it. That’s part of why you're up here though, because there’s only one great place to get a view like it.
The buildings going up already have sponsor logos, all from big multinational companies or the US government. Winged eagles, letters, mousy ears, and shining discs proclaim a ‘who's who’ of sponsors. They’re going to be pieces of the enormous rotunda celebrating mankind's first steps on a non-Terran body. You’re disappointed you can’t see them. They’re covered in heavy tenting, keeping them free of the moon dust as the other workers call it. They won’t be unveiled again until just before the grand opening, probably not until a few months from now. By then your tour on the Lunar surface will be over though.
It seems a shame, coming all the way to the moon and not seeing where the first man planted his footsteps.There were others of course, now brutally obscured by the first working visitors, run over by great automated Lunar rovers, or otherwise lost in the unthinking rush to profit from the cheaper access to orbit. Progress they say. Destruction some call it. All you know is the pay is great, even if no one can give you any real long term prognosis on the health risks. That’s okay, the consortium is footing the bill, and that money is going to keep you comfortable for the rest of your life. It’s well worth the risk.
“They say they’re gonna name the town up here Armstrong,” Your partner chatters away. You briefly wonder if he does this because of the silence of space is so obvious otherwise. It’s way too quiet when you first step onto the Lunar surface. Some people embrace it, others want to drive it away. He seems of the latter type.
“Big debate though. Others want to call it Apollo, more egalitarian to the other guys who flew that original mission you know?”
You resist the urge to nod and just go ‘mhm’ over the radio. Your partner continues obliviously.
“Some saying it should be named after the guys who first mapped it. Some medieval Italians naturally, Giovanni and Fabricio I think, well, F-something or other anyways.”
You're pretty sure he means Francesco Grimaldi. But correcting him would disrupt his flow, and he needs to talk.
“Then some other guy, big billionaire obviously, he says he wants to stamp his name on the spot. Government says no, they won’t let him name the spot no matter how much money he throws at it. Now some weird nerds on the net want to name it after science fiction writers. The one they had in mind has a crater on Mars named after him now though. I think his ghost will be happy with that.”
You nod, briefly forgetting for a moment the action is completely meaningless in a space suit.
“Still, I think it should be Armstrong, only seems respectful y’know?”
“Armstrong sounds fine.” You say. Only mildly interested in the constant one sided conversation floating through your headset.
There’s a flash on your Heads Up Display, a warning, a drone is misbehaving nearby. You swivel your head to give the remote operators at the base a better view and more visual data to supplement telemetry data. There’s a curse over the team radio as someone swings an automated crane out of the way of one of the hovering drones dropping the pylons which will support the great rotunda.
“This is why we watch the construction site, instead of the stars. Isn’t that right people?” The shift supervisor grumbles.
“Yes, of course.” You reply. A blush creeps into your face, and you’re glad no one can see you. It’s a rookie mistake and you’ll be hazed for it in the mess hall when you get back, but it’s okay. The stars are always worth it.
You go through the motions for another hour; watching, feeding visuals back to the drone controllers and supervisors, the monotony of construction in space. Soon the day’s shift will be done and the other work crews will come in. The rotunda is coming along, soon it will be time for the more delicate hands on work the drones can’t quite replicate yet. The later crews will go over your progress with a fine tooth comb and then in a few months the obscenely wealthy will flock to the spot where men first set foot on the moon. Some government official will probably jet up to oversee the ceremony, some fiery speech about something. Definitely not about working together. Not with the Chinese and the Russians already trying to muscle in.
Word had it the Chinese were hard at work developing Shackleton Crater on the South Pole, developing Malapert Mountain for their own needs. There’s always talk in the mess hall about the ‘slow start’ at Peary Crater on the North Pole. The supervisors don’t like that kind of talk, bad for morale they say, but they never crack down on it. They’re too curious.
“You’re doing it again.” Your partner chides. Startled, you swivel back to the site. You’d been looking towards the South Pole. “Look into the feeds when you’re back on base.”
Laughing, you keep focused for the last ten minutes of the shift until the supervisor announces the all clear. There’s a rover coming to drop off the next crew, and you bound towards your own rover, your partner coming around to meet you.
No one really walks on the moon. The gravity is too low. It’s a lot of hopping, or almost dainty foot falls. Moving with slow purpose. You hop, your partner moves daintily, with the careful steps of a Lunar veteran. You beat him to the rover easy, leaning on one of the massive kevlar and mesh tires.
“You’ll get tired of that real quick you know. Loses its charm after probably the fiftieth time you go bouncing around on the Lunar surface. Walk before you run rookie.” He passes you a thumbs up which you return. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of that.
“Though speaking of running, you hear they’re launching a space probe to Alpha Centauri next week? Those guys on Earth...”
You’re already tuning this news out as the hatch cycles open and you look over your shoulder. The tenting covering the Apollo 11 site is still there. Will be for a while yet. The rotunda takes shape, not yet having the feeling of permanence that the rest of the moon seems to exude. You look down at your own footprint, wondering how long it will take before it fades away, or is more likely walked over.
Your partner's warning rings in your ear. Will you get tired of it? Can all the wonder seen around you really end up as just a background to your work day? That seems impossible. How could it? It’s the moon, it can’t be just another tourist trap. Sparing one last look at the sheets on the rotunda, you wonder. You step inside, the hatch begins to close. It’s just another work day still.
Really enjoyed reading this. Glad that I took the time to read all the way through and see your vision. I definitely like your writing style and found it engaging. Thanks for this Matt.
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