Blue Moon

Dril entered from the air-lock. Myr looked up from the vid-screen.

“Brrr, it’s cold out there.”

“Don’t you wear your suit?”

“Of course I do. You think I’m crazy?”

Myr raised an eyebrow but didn’t answer that.

“I remember reading it is always cold out there. It’s the moon, silly.”

“I know it’s the moon. I got us this gig, remember?”

“That I do.”

“I mean, who better than us to prospect the best sites for mining delicious moon cheese?”

“No one I can think of.” Myr sighed. “You know what you forgot to have delivered?”

“What’s that, Honey Pie?”

“Some new material. You have told a variation of that joke at least once daily for the last year.”

“Except, mining for cheese is serious business.”

“Please stop.”

Dril smiled at Myr. “You want me to cook dinner tonight?”

Myr sighed again. “Is it dinner time? I know what the clock says, but it doesn’t feel like dinner time. The sun is still out.”

“You know how this works, Myr.”

“Of course I do. I get it intellectually. But a month of sunshine followed by a month of darkness?”

“Actually, it’s more like two weeks.”

“Really? Who came up with that schedule?”

“Uhm… God?”

“I need a break, Dril.”

“What do you say we take a week and go to the Sea of Tranquility? Or to the mountains?”

Myr put her hands up to her ears and shook her head. “No. No. No. No. No.”

Dril passed on this opportunity to, once again, make a joke about American cheese and the flag left behind by the first men to land here.

“Let’s dance.” Dril moved toward Myr with a rhythmic step. He started singing. “Blue Moon… You saw me standing alone…”

Myr shrugged off his embrace. “Don’t you dare start about Kate Smith.”

Dril put his hands up, in frustration and surrender. “I’m trying to make the best of a…”

“Cabin fever. Isn’t that what you call it?”

“On the moon, it is called ‘existential angst’.”

“Thank you, Dr. Freud.”

Dril touched Myr’s elbow. “Come on, Babe. We never look at the earthrise anymore.” He waved his hand and the shaded, domed window automatically brightened. The colorless moonscape spread before them with Earth’s blue orb peeking from behind the distant mountains.

“Stark.”

Dril shook his head. “Look at the Earth, Babe. We’ll be going home before you know it. Think how much you’ll appreciate being back.”

“Are we there yet?”

“You’ve heard that you can’t go home again?”

“Watch me.”

Dril stood back. The moment had passed. “I’m going to go out and check the sensors.” He pointed to the counter stacked with various tools and gizmos. “Would you hand me the razzafraz?”

Myr looked at the disorderly mess Dril called his workbench. She picked up the tool on top of the others. “You mean this?”

“No. That’s the franaham… Next to the thingamajig.” Myr picked up another tool at random and held it up. “Thank you.” He took the tool from her and moved toward the airlock.

“Will you be long?”

“No. You know, routine maintenance. Never can say when some asteroid will wreak havoc on our survival systems.”

“I hate when that happens.”

Dril chuckled and ducked through the bulkhead door. He stepped into his suit, secured the safety devices and donned his helmet. Taking his time, he checked the vid-feed and sound system, a routine as ingrained and natural as brushing his teeth before bed. All systems were a ‘go’.

Not that Myr would be monitoring his progress. Lately, her heart wasn’t in it.

He checked the seals on the interior door and activated the exterior door. The small room filled with steam for a moment as the air froze and then escaped into the void.

Dril scanned the bright horizon. It still quickened him to take in this alien moonscape. It never changed. But he did. Each day, his perception of this perpetually static scene seemed fresh by what he brought to it. The frozen nature of it grounded him somehow.

And of course, he thought of what ‘phase’ they were in. He could never shake the earth-centric perspective. But now, Dril would also note Earth’s phase.

After watching Earth’s rise above the horizon, Dril checked the various monitors distributed around their home base and the outer shell of their home. With few variations, all seemed in order.

He chuckled at his own joke. “The barometer seems stuck. Weird, no air pressure at all.”

When on the frontier of space like this, Dril always celebrated an ordinary day.

Seeing the giant ‘S. O. S’ scrawled in the dust by Myr, always made him smile. That happened after their first few weeks on base.

Dril remembered watching her shuffling around in an aimless manner on the landing pad near their base camp. Or so he thought.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Sending a message to anyone who might be paying attention,” she answered.

Then he recognized the letters, wide as Stonehenge. Gigantic letters to be read by someone, anyone above them in the sky.

They read, “S. O. S.” Sans serif.

He knew she meant it. Keeping her morale up kept him busy. That was his hardest job.

~

Myr watched the airlock door shut. Though a daily occurrence, seeing Dril go out distressed her. What if something happened to him?

Of course, she knew all the routines and procedures. But to be alone out here on this rock… She shuddered at the thought. At first, it seemed a romantic adventure. Like being on a desert island together. Dril called it their ‘dessert island’. She never imagined how desolate the whole thing would be.

Myr entered the conservatory. She spent most of her time there. The humidity, greenery, and oxygen-rich air kept her sane. She loved caring for the plants more than anything. They were her life.

She liked the sunshine streaming into the greenhouse. The windows filtered the harsh light to a level the plants could tolerate. And she had artificial light to accommodate the long lunar nights.

Though primarily their source of fresh food, Myr lobbied for authorization to also bring decorative and flowering plants to their outpost. She prevailed by arguing an environment lacking in beauty would be better tended by a robot. Myr insisted ‘practical’ was broader in scope than ‘edible.’ A garden could include a feast for the eye as well as her belly and wouldn’t unduly tax their limited resources.

Myr had maintained even a guinea pig deserves a home and not merely a box filled with hay. Someone agreed and Myr received permission to transport seeds of her choosing, within strict guidelines.

Now she had a garden, her little paradise. But without apples or snakes. She cared for it with a passion.

The apparently spontaneous generation of certain insects and pests amazed Myr. They required constant monitoring, lest they damage the food crops. Myr understood they must have stowed away on the seeds or the soil. They were unwitting aliens on this unwelcoming stone.

Curiously, there were also spiders, who allied with her to maintain a balance within the garden. Life begets life.

She gathered a variety of tomatoes and other ripe vegetables for their dinner.

Indicator lights and a signature chirp told Myr that Dril was back. She felt calmer now and went out to greet him.

Dril already stood in the living zone when Myr entered from the kitchen. He smiled at her and they embraced. However brief his sojourns outside, Dril’s homecoming always caused her joy.

Dril asked her, “Tell me, how do you know when the moon is full?”

“You never think it is full.”

“No. Work with me.”

“Oh, a joke. Uhm… it’s always half empty?”

“No. It says, ‘hold the cheese’.”

Myr did not react. The new joke felt very old.

“How about this…? What flavor is a ‘blue moon’?”

“Dril, I was feeling better…”

“Roquefort!”

“Please?”

“Alright… One of these days I’ll make you laugh.”

Myr shook her head. “When that happens, you’ll know I’ve become a bonafide lunatic.”

They looked at each other for a moment and burst into laughter. They embraced and kissed warmly.

Dril looked into Myr’s eyes. “How do you do that? You always make me laugh.”

“My little secret, love. Let’s eat.”

They walked hand in hand into the kitchen.