Moon Rocket

The doors slid shut with a snicking sound that echoed in my ears. I gulped for air, my hands grasping futilely at the webbed straps holding me securely in place. The pressure in the chamber changed, I couldn’t distinguish whether it was increasing or decreasing, panic was getting in the way of my reasoning powers. I moved my hands up to my ears, pressing my palms hard against my skull, trying to shift the feeling of water being lodged somewhere deep in my brain.

There was a click followed by a hissing, as the PA system switched on.

‘Exit procedure engaged. Lift off will commence in five minutes.’ The cool, disembodied voice was terrifying to me. I wished for a human voice, a human connection, but instead all I could hear was impersonal and disinterested tones of a carefully curated robot.

I had known this day would come for as long as I could remember. I mustn’t have been much more than a toddler when I first started hearing about the yearly rocket to the moon. It had been a constant source of anxiety for me, even though only one adult per year was ever chosen to go. I had never worried about any of my loved ones being chosen, my focus had been completely selfish. I would be sad if someone I cared about left of course, but ultimately my life would be unchanged. If l was to leave though, who knew what my life would become.

Throughout the years leading up to my 18^th birthday, when everyone was singing happy birthday to me, and encouraging me to blow out my candles and make a wish, I had just one thought running relentlessly through my brain.

‘One year closer. One year closer.’

This was a mantra in all the worst possible ways. I heard it underpinning my footsteps wherever I walked, it was the first thought in the morning and the last in the evening. But attaining adulthood, a prized goal for most, meant only one thing to me.

My friends and family thought I was being ridiculous.

‘Think of the numbers! You’re more likely to win the lottery and become a millionaire than you are to be sent to the moon. After all, absolutely everyone in the whole entire world has their number put in the moon rocket drawing, so it’s literally a billions to one chance that you’ll be picked.’

Their logic failed to sway me, because deep within my heart and soul, I had simply known that one day, it would be my number chosen, my name read out, regardless of the ratios and algorithms that everyone else employed to let them sleep peacefully through the night.

And two days ago, what I had long regarded as the inevitable happened. I had been clearing out my closet, hiding away, trying to keep myself distracted with busywork. But then, against my better judgement, I found my feet walking me towards the kitchen.

Next thing I knew, I was watching the news feed along with the rest of humanity, and I had the strangest feeling wash over me when I heard my name being announced. As is standard, my date of birth and other particulars were read too, but by that stage my mind had detached and was floating off somewhere above my body. In whatever brain cells were still capable of normal function, I thought how ironic it was that I was already being removed away from humanity, as I looked down at myself, sitting on the couch, craning forwards, staring at the screen.

The measly, rapidly reducing hours between the announcement and take off disappeared with barely any distinguishing features. I am sure that I had tearful, distressed farewells with friends and family. I must have packed items into suitcases, because I could recall seeing them being carted into the rocket, but it would be a surprise to open them on the moon and see what random bits and pieces I grabbed.

The rocket preparation team would have taken care of all my responsibilities, including financial, work, residential – they are famed for handling these in a more efficient and timely manner than most probate lawyers can even manage reading through a will. I had left detailed instructions, indicating how I wanted these entanglements dealt with, in a document I had updated regularly.

The dispassionate voice spoke again. ‘Lift off in ten… nine… eight… seven…’

I strained to see out of the window, desperate to catch my last glimpse of Earth as the vibrations of the rocket intensified. All I could see was white smoke tinged with grey, pouring past the windows. As the rocket disengaged from its docking station, the force pressed my head hard into the chair, and my eyes watered, out of my control.

I blinked rapidly but fruitlessly, as there was nothing to see through the window. The rocket was juddering so much I could not focus properly, any details I had hoped to see were obscured until the ascent suddenly levelled out. Then I was so high above the planet that I felt dizzy and gagged. I would have vomited if I had eaten anything in the preceding hours, and I felt a dim gratitude that I had saved myself from the indignity and stench.

I had been offered a sedative that would allow me to drift through the three day journey in a dreamlike state, but I had rejected it, not wanting to lose any more autonomy. There was a chance that these three days would gift me the opportunity to come to some sort of peace with my situation, and I had resolved to try and make the best of it.

When the tones sounded over the PA, indicating it was safe to move around the rocket, I clumsily unclipped myself from the seat, my hands stiff from gripping the webbing so hard. I moved away, towards the bunk area, determined to stretch my legs as I let my thoughts wander.

It wasn’t as though I was leaving behind anything amazing on Earth. The climate issues had been worsening steadily for so long that most people had no hope for the future. We had become reluctantly accepting of devastating droughts, followed by hellish bushfires, with the inevitable torrential downpour coming too late to staunch the flames, but in perfect timing to wash away anything of worth left behind.

Crime and despair were proliferating on the streets, and I didn’t know anyone my age who was prepared to even consider getting married, much less having children, thereby putting greater pressure on a struggling environment and economy. So what was the big deal, leaving that in my wake?

It came down mostly to my loved ones. As the world around me became more precarious, my own emotional world became smaller and more refined, like a small but stunning diamond emerging from coal under incredible pressure. There wasn’t much that I cared about anymore, except for those few precious people in my inner circle.

These had been whittled down recently to my parents and my two oldest friends. There were times when I had met potential new friends, but I had never seen the point of making any more connections. It was hard enough to contemplate never seeing the four most important people in my life, so hard that I could even let myself think of their names and faces.  

Articles published about those relocated onto the moon always mentioned how hard it was to get any information about them after take-off had occurred. The engineers were notoriously cagey about why communications only seemed to work one way. Emails, videos, even packages sent on the yearly rocket were like letters in a bottle, cast adrift with great hopes but low expectations. Never in the history of the moon rockets had anything been returned.

Not only was I going to miss my loved ones terribly, but I had no belief that there was anything actually there on the moon, waiting for me. We had all seen the stock footage of the settlement, but due to the gravity and atmosphere issues, no human was ever viewed in situ. The only evidence of success were the prior moon rockets lying haphazardly on the rocky expanses surrounding the dome covering the buildings.

I was not the only person to speculate that there were no living creatures at all on the moon. There were abundant numbers of us wondering if the whole venture was simply a high tech, space age version of ritualistic human sacrifice. If so, it was doing an incredibly poor job of appeasing whatever god had it in for the Earth.

The three days I spent flying through space I was a soggy mixture of fear and grief. I never came near reaching calm or acceptance. If anything, my state of mind became exacerbated until I tore through the medicine cabinet, frantically looking for anything that might work as a sedative, cursing myself for my stupidity in opting to stay conscious through the journey.

I was out of luck, and out of time.

‘Begin preparations for descent.’ I hated this voice by now. I had begun speaking back to her, being as rude as I could in answer to her incessant, infuriatingly calm pronouncements. I was so lonely on this flight, and hearing a not human voice made me even more aware of how infinitesimal I was within the context of the stars and space surrounding the rocket.

I reluctantly shoved all of the medical detritus back onto the shelves and slammed the door shut. I paced around the rocket, tapping my fingers nervously on the wall panels, wondering if it and I would survive the landing.

Up until now I had avoided looking out towards the moon. Perhaps I hadn’t wanted to properly acknowledge my destination. That seemed stupid considering I had always known I would end up on the moon. Clipping myself back into my seat, I realised I would have no choice. The window directly opposite me, which had given me my coveted last views of Earth, was now showing me the surface of the moon, steadily coming into focus.

The fear rushing through my body on the approach was quite different from three days earlier. This time, I was concentrating on my possible death, and while adrenalin was fizzing through my veins, I was calmly considering how painful the collision would be, and how quick.

I was surprised beyond words when I unclenched my eyes, and found the rocket finally unmoving. I was there, I was on the moon, and alive. I sat for a long time, letting awareness of this bizarre concept seep through me. I couldn’t see out of the window, the dust the rocket dislodged upon landing had settled all over it.

I couldn’t remember what I was supposed to do next. There had been a training session on the disembarking protocol, but I had no memory of it at all. I figured a good starting point was to collect my things, so I unclipped myself from the seat for the last time, and began to put away the few items I had unpacked.

The knock on the door was unexpected. I grabbed at my chest in a ridiculous, dramatic fashion, feeling my heart pounding as my mouth dried instantly. I moved towards the door, my hand shaking as it gripped the handle. This was my moment of truth. Who was on the other side? Or what? The only way to find out, to discover what my life was to become, was to turn that handle.