It’s Moonday at the Lunar Mall

It’s Monday morning and I take a stroll down to the corner news agency and buy a paper. Back home I start up the coffee machine and full mug in hand, I sit on the couch, skip the bad news on page 1 and start paging through on my way to the crossword. Wow! What’s that huge ad on page 2?

“It’s Moonday at the Lunar Mall Today and every Moonday. Everything at half price!”

Where on earth is the Lunar Mall? Well, if it’s Lunar, it’s not on earth. It’s got to be on the moon.

Very clever! If I had a store that no one could get to, I would offer a 90 percent discount on everything. Maybe even 99 percent!

The ad in the paper is a full-page, must have cost a bomb and has some small print on the left-hand side. “Visit the Lunar Mall. We’ll make it worth your while. Tell your spaceship commander to drop you off at the Northern end of The Sea of Tranquility.”

Very funny! Of the 7.8 billion people on earth, I know of only one man who can go out to his garage, climb into his spaceship, fire up the rockets and select ‘Moon’ as the destination. It’s not me. I keep turning to the crossword.

The puzzle, as usual, is impossible at first glance and then unfolds clue by clue until it reaches your level of insanity. At that moment you either give up, curse the cruciverbalist, or burn the entire paper. This morning something made me pause among the clues and think back some 30 years to my college days. Remember when we built time machines in third year engineering? It was a nutty lecturer’s scheme to see how inventive we students were. I won the prize. The lecturer said I was outright crazy and destined to get nowhere in my future career. Bits and pieces of that old hulk were still scattered around the house, mostly in the garage.  

I went in there after lunch and scrounged out remainders of my time machine. I re-assembled them as best I could and stood back to look at the result. I once read a definition of a camel which said, “A horse designed by a committee”. That same committee would have done a better job on my attempt. It was a pile of junk glued together by a blind man. The next phase in this project was to convert that so-called time machine to a space ship that will fly 240 thousand miles to the moon and 240 thousand miles back. At about 3,000 miles per hour.

No problem, right? The time machine already has wings and a rudder. Now it needs:

A rocket – what’s going to make this thing lift off mother earth?

Fuel tanks – I don’t want to run out of gas anywhere on this trip,

Brakes – I don’t want to be traveling at 3,000 mph when I hit the car park on the moon or bang into my garden when I return,

Instruments – so I know what’s happening and what’s going to happen,

Space for my purchases at the mall – what if I buy a 60 inch TV set? Or a new mattress?

Food and drink – the flight will take 3 or 4 days. I have to eat and drink.

A bathroom of some sorts – no explanation necessary.

Money for shopping – I pack a box of coins, notes, and Bitcoins. One of these should work.

Perhaps I should just forget the whole thing?

But thoughts insist on creeping into my head. How difficult can it be? After all, I am an engineer. And Google is always available.

So I asked Google about rocket fuel and find it’s not a problem.

Fuel tanks? Can be bought at many places.

Brakes: I’ll talk to the guys down at the service station where I take my car, and to the mechanics at the town airport. Someone is bound to have an idea.

Instruments: I need a compass - local toyshop. Speedometer - airport mechanic. Clock - watchmaker in the mall. Fuel gauges - service place.

Luggage room: I have to add extra space at the back of the machine: I will do this myself.

Food and drink: supermarket at the mall.

Bathroom: I’ll call one of those mobile potty places.

I’m practically ready!   

And 3 weeks later I am ready for lift-off. I push the ignition button. Brace myself for an ear-splitting bang and jerk and ten seconds later I’m looking down on my garden 100 feet below me. Five minutes later my speedometer tells me that I’m moving at 2,890 mph. Not bad. Terrible rattling sound coming from the back-end where I screwed on the extension to the body to carry purchased goods home. I must tighten those screws… So far everything else is working fine.

Landing was both exciting and then terrifying. But I’m down safely, wandering around on the beach with giant strides. Aha, I see a shuttle bus contraption to the mall.

Inside, the place is teeming with strange looking green figures. They are small and thin with large funny-shaped heads. Most of them are carrying bags meaning that they are taking advantage of the sale. They back away from me on sight. I try talking to one of them who dared to come close but he stood looking at me and remained silent. How the hell am I supposed to do any shopping in this place?

A crowd gathers around me, keeping their distance but seeming friendly. Then the little creatures move, leaving a pathway for the large figure that walks through and stops right in front of me. It has some semblance to a human but some of the pieces have been attached in the wrong places. What must be a hand comes out towards me and I understand that it wants to shake with me. I grab this hand thing. It reminds me of the time I shook hands with an elephant’s trunk in Thailand.

“Coffee,” I say to this ‘man’. It takes my elbow and guides me along. We stop at a sort of kiosk.  There’s a green barista serving drinks. I ask for coffee which I need really badly. I’m on day 4 of withdrawal. What I get is not coffee but it settles my nerves.

 My guide looks at me as if to say, “now where?”

“Television sets,” I say.

He shakes his head which simply rolls from side to side as though it isn’t attached. I’m learning their language quickly. Hope I never have to say no to anyone here… He points down his throat. “Food?”

I nod carefully. My head remains stable. He sets off down the aisle and I follow. The food hall is crowded with noisy eaters. Conversation ceases as soon as I arrive. Heads swivel to look at me. Perhaps I am a relic of a bygone age. I eat food that I don’t recognize. Could have been meat. Or was it green cheese?

We wander around the mall which is huge. The stores are varied and seem to keep just about anything. I see a TV store and look at my guide and point at it. Again he does the head-roll thing and makes a bit of noise. My guess is that theirs work on solar power while we are still using electricity. I stop at a fruit and vegetable kiosk and inspect the produce. I do not recognize anything. Nothing in the men’s clothing store fits me either.

The hours pass and we eat again and window-shop again. It’s become just another mall. I signal my guide that I’ve had enough. He looks surprised. I stop at a food kiosk and fill up on – hey, are those sandwiches and cans of drink? Enough to get me home, I hope. I motion a large ‘Thank You and See You Again’ signal to my guide and head for the shuttle station.

Back at the spaceship I squeeze myself into the seat, hit the ignition, wait for the bang, and set a course back to earth. Touchdown in my garden is a great relief, despite the deafening landing and the few pieces that fell off the spaceship. A small group of surprised neighbors is waiting to welcome me. It’s great to be home.

The spaceship is now parked in the garage. I’m not sure I’ll be using it again.