Mickey was standing at the crescent desk to the right, talking to an employee behind the counter. Eva and Skye were standing only a few feet away, and talking about something interesting. You could tell by the high look on Eva’s face; her eyes were glowing like polished cue balls.
Crass walked up to Mickey and asked what was going on.
“They’re saying there are no more seats left on the shuttle. It’s filled to capacity.” He points his finger at the large blue and white schematic tacked up on the wall.
Crass takes a look at the desk attendant. He’s dressed in a red vest pinned with a shiny name tag: Marshal. His hair is a tangled black assortment, hardly touched by a hairbrush since…well, probably never.
“Marshal,” Crass says, getting the guy’s attention. “You can’t move some bags around or something?” He was trying to make sense of the schematic and failing. One too many overlapping blue lines.
“It’s strict company policy, sir. Only eight aboard a shuttle at a time, and we already have one spot reserved for the gatekeeper. He has to go to perform the essential docking and landing actions associated with space flight.”
“My computer is showing a refund pending,” Marshal said, blinking his eyes slowly. “If he wants to purchase the ticket, we can get him on the flight.”
“And there my problem lies,” Mickey said exhaustively.
Crass realized he needed to think for a moment. Get his brain wrapped around this problem and solve it quickly. He was rubbing the key ring in his hand when he dropped them to the floor.
We always expect the metal clang! before the sight of the keys on the floor but such wasn’t the case. The thought processed in Crass’s mind, and he looked down, watching his bundle of keys move in slow motion, as if passing through a fish tank before striking the rocky bottom.
Bending down was no problem at all. He did it with absolute ease and scooped up his keys (light as a feather) off the slate floor.
Eva and Skye were still talking, this time closer, and seeming to bounce off each other. He began to think it was just his eyes messing with him. How many space cakes were left? There was no time to look right now. Then he had his idea.
“Eva! Hey Eva!”
She turned and looked at Crass with a puzzled glance. Skye stopped to see what was so important that he had to interrupt her precious conversation piece.
“What happened to your boyfriend’s ticket?” Crass asked.
She thinks for a moment and then says:
“He probably returned it, I would imagine. If he could come up with the notary’s fee and find three witnesses or whatever. That’s my money though. Let that be known. I paid for those tickets, not him. Check the credit card statement if you don’t believe me!”
She walked over, seeming to hop or bounce right over to him like her feet were attached to magic carpets. Drugs weren’t this good, this was something else. Physics had somehow changed modes compared to the corridor outside the wooden double doors. And changed drastically.
“Do you feel lighter…somehow Eva?” Crass asked as she got closer, nearly bumping into him.
“A little…I guess. My arm and body movements feel brisker, easier, like all my joints have been oiled up like the Tin Man.”
Mickey spoke up, killing the suspense.
“This is the Moon Room, you guys. Built to simulate the gravitational pull of the lunar surface, which is about one-sixth of the pull that Earth has on our bodies. Even the simplest tasks are much easier here.”
He turned and smiled at all of us. “Don’t ya’ll know this by now? Jesus people! You’re about to fucking ship out there into the great beyond!”
“What’s eating him?” Eva softly asks Crass.
“No ticket is a no go for flight,” he rang back. “What about Byron’s ticket?”
She shook her head in slow motion. “It’s Brett’s ticket, and I don’t know. He’ll owe me big time if they can fix it.”
“He’s got money tucked away and he owns a helicopter sightseeing business. They tour all over the Florida coast. He’ll make sure you’re paid back in full. Mickey’s a trustworthy guy, I’ve known him since college.”
“I believe you, Crass, but I will personally hold you responsible if he doesn’t pay me back,” she said, her eyes turning up to meet his, searching for agreement.
“Take it easy, girl,” Crass said. “Please go talk to Marshal at the counter over there and fix this little problem, please? With a cherry on t—”
“Got it,” she said, floating off and circling back on soft green footsteps, coming close again, and putting herself smack dab in the middle of his intimate zone. Any basic understanding of personal space in America tells most people to hold back at least a foot and a half to two feet. Not her, she was almost right on top of him.
“Am I showing enough cleavage you think?” She unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse and the tanned crest come into his view.
He enjoyed taking the next moment to observe, notice the calming effect, and say: “Yeahhhh…I believe so Eva.”
She drifted off to the brightly lit crescent Moon desk and propped her elbows down on the countertop, arched her back in the middle, and poked her ass out at Crass or whoever else was watching. Mickey walked up and stood beside him.
A loud roaring sound like an explosion was moving through the building. There was a crowd at the window, pointing and watching with curious amusement. Crass looked at Mickey and he stared back nonchalantly.
“Systems are coming online,” he said and floated off to the bay windows with the others, leaving Crass to stand there alone.
Eva finished up her business at the desk and breezed over on the soles of her surgical booties. She was holding something shiny. Every time it found the light, it cast off vicious rays of sharp light.
“What is it?” Crass asked, turning to look at the crowd again.
“It’s Mickey’s ticket,” she said. “He needs to promptly write me an IOU. Space travel isn’t cheap. They said it cost about twenty thousand dollars for every two pounds going beyond Earth orbit.”
She was shaking her head. “Here, you give it to him.” and she stuck the ticket in Crass’s hand.
“Ok. I got it. Did Marshal say when we’re living Innsmouth?” he asked, looking at her directly.
“In about an hour I think. Make sure that Mickey claims his ticket before long.”
“I got it, ok. Just give me a minute. I’m still getting use to this lighter gravity atmosphere, geez.”
“Play nice, would you?” Eva asked with a twinkle in her eye. She smiled and walked down the stairs, and past an older gentleman with a smooth, bald head and a black eye patch over his right eye. He sat straight up on the couch, his back as stiff as an arrow and looked forward at nothing. Nothing that Crass could make sense of.
Eva weaved by the living space and found Skye at a high table by the window. They started talking and carrying on about something that had both their eyes sparkling wildly. Mickey was at the middle window, looking out over the rocks, and dark Atlantic surf as the moonlight drifted across the agitated waters.
“Mick?”
He turned around and looked Crass in the face.
“Hey, what is it? Get it fixed?” he asked, turning up another golden tooth smile.
“Eva did. And now you owe her however much,” Crass said, handing him the shiny ticket.
“How much is that?” he replied quickly.
“You’ll have to ask her, I don’t know.”
Mickey walked back over to the Moon desk. Looking out the window, Crass glanced up at the waxing gibbous Moon, thinking about the last time he’d taken any kind of trip or vacation. Nothing came to mind, but he was here now and that had to count for something. Didn’t it?
It was past midnight and growing ever later. Again he heard a roaring sound like thirty Bengal tigers enclosed in a shallow tunnel. He looked right and saw lights illuminating the exterior of a large white rocket with black markings. It wa
s aimed at the dark skies above, pointing towards the cool and starry blanket of night.
We were almost there.
Part II
Space & the Moon
Moonlight drowns out all but the brightest stars.
J.R.R. Tolkien
VII: Launch Pad
Crass was staring out the window when he heard a man speak up from behind him. He was talking loud and telling everyone on the floor they could follow behind him and change into the spacesuits next door.
Crass turned around slowly and saw the bald guy with the eye patch guiding people out the side doors in small groups. It wasn’t long before the room was almost empty, except for Mickey and Marshal still talking over at the silver Moon desk. He practically jumped four good bounces and found himself standing behind Mickey.
He was handing a small card to Marshal, who glanced over it with mild interest.
“We fly all over the coast. From Atlantic Beach to Miami. Anywhere you want to go,” Mickey said, turning his body, and taking notice of the lurker hiding in his own large and bulky shadow.
“The crowd took off to don the space gear,” Crass said. “Is everything good over here?” He was hoping to ease the look of nervous tension on Mickey’s stretched face.
“As right as rain,” he said, turning to leave. “How about you playa? You all good?”
He grinned when I told him everything was great. Just fantastic Mick. Would you care to help me find the others now that we’ve lost track of them in this 28,000 square foot mansion in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean?
“We’ll find them Crass. Have a little faith, pal.”
We bounced over to the doorway the others had left through only minutes ago. Mickey stopped walking. His hand was on the door, gently groping the large aluminum pull installed there. He hesitated and we both stood there, waiting.
“What’s going on?” Crass asked, almost impatiently at this point.
“Just wanted to see if you’re ready.” Mickey looked at him with a hard glance.
“I was born that way,” Crass said. He pushed his foot forward and went to reach for the handle. Mickey finally opened the door, and they walked out into the corridor together, him after Crass, since he was being so gentlemen like.
“Ladies first,” he muttered under his breath.
A wide hallway with coffin size windows spilled out before us. The glowing moonlight crept through and grew on the stone floor, casting light on the door in the distance. Crass saw a few heads bobbing through the round portholes.
Then he did something unexpected.
They were walking across the floor, and when the light hit Crass just right, he stopped, bent his knees, hunched down, and eminently howled at the Moon in the dark skies above. The sounds echoed through the hallway and bounced off the glass, reverberating for a few seconds and then dying out.
“AaaGhhhHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWwwww…”
“Aghmph…Aghmph…AaaghhHHHHHEEEEEWWWWwww…”
Mickey stared at him blankly at first, and then joined in, pounding on his chest like a silver-back gorilla in the wild. After three or four minutes of this nonsense and we’d had our rumpus fun adventure.
Crass tried bouncing over to the double doors and failed. Gravity sought to pull him down, tethering his body most solidly to the Earth’s hard surface. He was thinking they should go back to the Moon Room, where things were easier.
After walking like a normal human being (two to three foot paces) to the door, he stopped and grabbed the polished handle, looking over at Mickey. The moonlight tattooed his face in tiny slivers. He looked like a warrior of the jungle, a Tarzan of tranquility and golden poise.
“Are you ready?” Crass asked. All he could see was one of Mickey’s eyes in the soft darkness. It glared, never blinking.
“Stop playing games, you sonofabitch.” Mickey pulled back to reveal all of his calm face. The leather jacket rattled as it moved across his skin.
“You’re no fun, Mick. Ok, ok. Let’s go.”
Crass opened the door, and held it for Mickey. He walked past and Crass slapped his ass with a quick hand.
“Good hustle.”
Mickey didn’t bother looking back. The room was something entirely new and not what he was expecting as a fitting room for outer space tourists.
Crass’s first thought when he stepped through the door was they were standing in the stony veranda of a French chateau. Any minute now, he half expected horse and carriage, briskly waiting to usher off the denizen of the large estate. Nothing happened, and he shrugged it off.
The bald man with the eye patch sat reading the Technology section of The New York Times on a large wooden bench. Straddling the bench on both sides were giant white vehicles with dual wheel sets (like the landing gear of a plane) installed everywhere underneath the chassis.
They were as big as a small bus and twice as wide.
The man looked up at him quickly, and then went back to reading, silently. There were rooms indicated at the far corners of the room, one marked for Men and the other for Women. Mickey began walking towards the Men’s Room and Crass caught on slower than usual. He was observing the white millipede rovers with intrigue and curiosity.
“Years ago,” the man said, still looking down at his paper. “The President announced we’d travel to Mars by the mid-2030s sometime, and possibly visit an asteroid by 2025.”
“Do you believe that?” he asked Crass, looking him squarely in the face.
“I remember it. And I also remember thinking how it sounded like something out of Hollywood. Very similar to Armageddon, if you remember that one?”
The bald man shook his head, setting the paper down in his lap.
“HARRY! HARRY!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, instantly catching Crass by complete surprise.
“Yeah, I remember that movie kid. If you’re going to the Moon, you’re going to need to have a spacesuit on.”
Crass nodded. “I was headed there now.”
“Good,” he said, standing up and clicking a button in his hands. The engines fired on the millipedes and clusters of lights came alive on the vessel. “We’re outta here in T-minus twenty minutes.”
Crass ran off to the Men’s Room where he met the wardrobe crew, a group of three women in white outfits. They stripped him down to his skivvies and redressed him from top to bottom with the essential garments. Mickey was waiting by the door when the girls had finished up with the orange suit his body was now trapped in. He felt a little heavier than before, and sensed it in every step he took.
“A bit awkward aren’t they?” Mickey asked. He was pulling the collar away from his neck with a loose finger.
“Only a little.”
They walked out and joined the rest of the crew in the veranda. Two doorways had opened up and the vehicles were slowly being pulled out by the resort’s employees. Ahead in the bright arc of the headlights was a long dirt road weaving up the mountainside and over to the rocket’s base.
Crass found Eva and her companion (Skye) at the back of the crowd and stood behind them quietly before saying anything. Eva caught site of him in the corner of her eye and turned around much slower now, the sinuous movements now quasi-paralyzed with the weight of the orange suit.
“I see you made it,” she said to Crass. She turned and looked at Mickey, who was walking up behind him. “And you did, too.”
“All in one piece,” Crass said, looking out over the crowd for the bald man. He emerged from the road, kicking up layers of dirt, and dressed in the same outfit the travelling crew had on. Was he the pilot?
“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,” he said loudly, walking toward us at an even pace. “We’re about to begin boarding the rovers which will take us to the rocket out there on the crest.”
“Ya’ll pick a rover, get to your seats, and buckle up. The rovers will automate themselves after everyone is seated and buckled in. I’ll be joining you all shortly on the launch pad. That’s it, folks. Get to your stations and let’s get
the Falcon in the air.”
He disappeared behind a door and we began selecting our choice in rover. Crass hurried over to the left one, the decals on the back looking newer and less worn than the others.
“Lefty-Loosey?” Crass asked, looking at Mickey. “How about it?” He looked content with the decision.
As they neared closer to the white beast, Crass tried counting the dual-axle wheels attached to the underbelly of the machine. Could’ve been anywhere from eight to twenty sets, all glistening with aluminum struts and shocks. The tires were rigid and grooving like pulverized hamburger meat, meant for the off road challenges any loony terrain might have in store.
The side door was open, and there were steps built into the cabin for easy access inside. Perhaps easier on the lunar surface, not so much on the Florida coast, where Earth’s gravity has been known to hold down a person or two or three. Not in the oppressive way though, let that be said right here. Nobody he knew got off so easily on blaming gravity for their own incompetence.
Skye climbed aboard first, and then Eva behind her. Mickey was standing close by, glancing at the other rover next to us. Three people were climbing aboard and all of them looked young.
“Guess it’s just us tonight,” he said.
“I’ll go to the Moon with ya big guy,” Crass said. “C’mon.”
He trotted up the stairs and found a seat behind the large bubble-like windows, kind of like an Amtrak train in the sense of how the windshield was designed. He was thinking they called this aerodynamic?
Mickey took a seat on the starboard side and buckled in as the doors snapped closed and locked. Crass felt the magnetic hum of the engines come to life under his feet. He took the seat by Eva and wiggled himself in, pulling the shoulder harness over his head and clasping the buckle. The dashboard’s display monitors lit up with bright colors and letters and codes that looked like mystical hieroglyphics.
The vehicle lifted up with a gentle whirring sound and took off, accelerating over the dirt road in front of them. Crass looked out the window and saw the other rover running parallel to their own. The big wheels churned up clouds of dust that trailed behind in a lowlying blanket.
LunaDome: A Novel Page 5