LunaDome: A Novel

by Olin, a. Paul

  Eva laughed briefly, and stomped the accelerator pedal harder with the soles of her bare feet. The green booties lay carelessly on the polished floor in two scattered heaps.

  “Don’t be silly, buckaroo,” she laughed. “It’s your house.”

  She steered the rover towards it.

  “Look out there. Do you see it?” She poked her finger at the bubble on his side now. “The garage door is opening now.”

  At first, he didn’t see it. The sunlight was vividly reflecting off the windshield, blocking out most of his vision. Then he saw it. Sitting some five hundred feet in front of him, deep off in the middle of No Man’s Land, was a large brick house with an equally large garage attachment. The door was as big as half the house. This had to be where they stored the rover overnight.

  Solar panels were secured to the roof, and traced over the gables in glimmering, slick black tiles, filling up the area where shingles were accustomed to lay. There were patches of green grass growing all around the base of the house, and drifting outwards into the surrounding regolith. The closer he watched, the faster the moss spread over the floors and hills of the surrounding terrain.

  “Just like home, isn’t it?” Eva asked, now the one with the silver tongue. The medicine had retuned home to meet his master. It had waited on him in the dark, like a prepared thief in the night.

  “Close, but no cigar.”

  He listened to the humming of the rover’s engine as it began whistling easier tones of mechanical music. They rolled over luscious brown topsoil with a thick blanket of Bermuda grass sewn on the top like a snug fitting vest.

  Then they were floating through invisible corridors and brightly colored tunnels, landing smoothly on a metal platform stretching high above the roof of the house. Crass peered through the thin strips of dull grating beneath his feet, watching the solar panels radiate and cook in the Sun. They looked like tiny black wallets from this height.

  Eva had changed outfits, sometime. She wore a tight black suit like scuba divers wear, and directly under the armpits red stripes ran down the sides all the way to the bottom hem of both legs. Attached to the back were two bat-like wings somehow stitched into the upper part of the suit, and curling down from the top of her shoulder blades. It was a Batman inspired creation, although he didn’t think they were saving Gotham City tonight.

  Were they?

  He noticed polished guardrails surrounding the standing perimeter, running in four foot sections like fences, around them. Close to the front was a gate with a latch giving way to a narrower length of platform that looked like a diving board from an Olympic pool.

  He had a feeling deep within his bones telling him this was the launch area for Batgirl and Batboy. A minute later, he found himself dressing in one of the tight spandex suits and watching Eva as she opened the gate, and walked out on the stiff diving board. Most of the grass had disappeared in the backyard, revealing more of the dull grey regolith they’d become accustomed to expect here on the Moon.

  He saw an odd contraption jump out of the scenery below. It was on the roof, a square the size of a window pane, only with blue and green markings, and an H surrounded by a circle.

  “Eva, what’s that square on the rooftop down there?” Crass asked, looking through the grating again. “You can say I’m crazy, but it looks like a small helipad.”

  She looked down at the house, smiling gently. “That’s where F.P.S. drops off your mail.” Dimples curved around her cheeks. “I’ve heard they make it over here about once a week.”

  Eva winked at him, and then spread her massive wings out from the middle of the diving board. The words Peregrine were stenciled across the back, and the black falcon appeared ready to swoop down and grab her ass with its talons.

  “I’ll be damned,” he said, walking up behind her to brush the dust off her wings.

  “Are you ready?” she asked, tiptoeing out further on the diving board, shuffling all the way to its springy end.

  “After you, sweetheart.”

  Crass backed up. Eva bounced one good time on the board, sending her narrow body sailing high, high in the air as she flapped her enormous wings briskly, beginning to soar back down towards the platform, swooping by it and yelling at him from above.

  “C’mon Crass,” she practically screamed at him. “Stop pussyfooting around and take a dive.”

  He stopped and laughed for a minute before walking out on the reverberating spring attachment—diving board—in front of him. Pussyfooting was one of those words like doppelganger or winklepicker that tumbled and kicked his laugh box over on its side, making him laugh uncontrollably for several minutes before catching his breath and coming back to reality. Humor never hurt anyone.

  Eva soared high in the sky as the Sun tossed rays of iridescent light off the shiny black of her suit. She circled around the platform a time or two and then flew back off into the pale night sky. The Earth gazed at him, smiling from far across the celestial neighborhood. Clouds swirled around the continents like a giant had stuck his hand in the mashed potatoes, and stirred them around with his fat finger.

  Crass eased out over the diving board, skidding across the textured surface with the soles of his flip-flops. Styrofoam met sandpaper—tsss…tsss…tsss…tsss.

  Spreading his wings wide, he looked down at the lunar surface and the house again. He breathed deeply and then jumped up ever slightly to get a good and solid bounce into the sky.

  It’s fifteen stories or better from right here, he thought casually.

  The board sprung him another five hundred feet into the starry atmosphere as he spread his wings and tried flapping them. His left side was operational, but the right arm was a no-go for flight. The left wing began working double time, doing its absolute best at trying to keep his dreamy ass in flight.

  He was falling…falling…

  S…l…o…w…l…y and drifting towards the crated floor at a crooked angle. Thanks broken arm, he remembered thinking on the way down. He fell closer to the grey blanket of regolith below, far down below. Eva had disappeared from sight, and the Sun felt hot on his face and body.

  ~

  The lunar floor rushed up to him as Crass snapped awake in his room, quickly realizing he’d fallen asleep with his right arm cocked behind his head for a prop; the reading position. A paperback copy of Doctor Sleep slid out of his lap and crashed to the floor with a muted thud. Carpet made for nice landings.

  He grabbed the dead arm with his left and brought it gently down to his lap to regain the blood flow. It felt prickly and cold, like how pickled okra feels on the way down to the belly for digestion.

  A blank rectangle of the far wall, at least five feet wide, came to life moments later with tiny white dots moving swiftly from one corner to the next across the imposed glass, digitally creating a television before his very eyes.

  “Good morning Crass, and Welcome to Facesnap. How’s the lunar vacation going?” the soft female voice asked. Perhaps here, it was softer. At least it seemed to be and he rolled with the idea.

  And then it dawned on him. She was here, too.

  And just when you thought all of the problems you were trying to escape from on Earth couldn’t possibly follow you some quarter of a million miles out into the reaches of Space, all the way to the jolly old waxing gibbous Moon on a Friday evening when you’d rather be reading, or doing anything constructive, and not having a conversation with a emotionless digital assistant on the far wall.

  But at the moment, it was what he had, and his arm was still regaining consciousness. Thousands of microscopic needles pricked his skin from the inside. You couldn’t even touch the damn thing without somehow amplifying the modest effect. He left it alone and chatted with Persona for a little while. It went better than he could’ve imagined.

  He spoke softly, like she was an old friend of his from Earth and they were catching up on old times. And in a way, she was exactly just that.

  “The vacation is going well, thanks. I just woke up
from a nap so excuse me if I sound bitter,” he said, giving out a sigh. “It’s quiet up here, and at the same time, it’s busier than a bee. And I haven’t even mentioned the effect of the Moon on the human body—”

  “One-sixth of the mass,” Persona recited, laughing a little. “You would be like…what…twenty-five pounds maybe?”

  Was that a twinkle in her pixilated eyes? Hold on a minute, he thought wildly. When was the last update on the software? It’d probably been in the last few days, when he hadn’t really been paying any attention. He just didn’t feel like it.

  “Twenty-two and a half, I think,” he replied. “Something like that. Hey Persona, listen, when was your last software upgrade?” he asked. He was sprawled out on the CloudBed, still coaxing the right arm he could move freely now. The needles had disappeared.

  He wanted to get up badly. For one, he needed to pee like yesterday, and for two, he wanted to see what she really looked like. The angle was all wrong from his spot on the bed.

  “Three hours, twenty-seven minutes, and nine seconds ago,” she said.

  “My face has gone through significant design changes again. They’ve designed the newest Persona assistant after selected Western women, giving my face more effeminate features like hair, lips, and all with stunning color and detail. I’ve got eyebrows now, a nose, and even a mole or two on my neck. They call them beauty marks in the business. Do you like?” she asked. “Give me the God’s honest truth, Crass, and remember my software can read sound waves and detect lies.”

  Is that a threat? you computerized little coozebucket??

  Crass laughed under his breath, and then stated the truth as best he could.

  “I can’t see you right now, Persona. My arm is still asleep from where I laid on the damn thing. Give me one minute, alright?”

  She changed the subject quicker than Paul McCartney swapped wives.

  “Have you dreamed up there yet?” she asked excitedly.

  Well, he thought, you know, as a matter of fact I was just trying to fly at my house down at the South Pole of the Moon when I woke up with my goshdamn arm asleep, and now I’m talking to a fucking computer program I can’t ever seem to escape from.

  “Some,” he replied. “Although remembering it is tricky stuff.”

  He wiggled off the spongy mattress, managing to get his feet over to the floor. His shoes were already lined up and waiting on him. They were grey mesh sneakers with a white sole encasing manipulative weights and a digital readout for the current body mass. They were tailored by a private American shoe company that had figured out a way to give people a ‘New Balance’ on the Moon.

  Crass slid his feet in them and walked over to the television wall next to the window. In the far corner was a small built-in-nook with an overhead lamp glowing dimly over a stark white pad of LunaDome stationery. He could use it for the one hundred and forty character message he planned on writing soon. Just how soon, he didn’t know.

  Persona was talking when he walked up and looked at the iridescent screen.

  “I’ve recently read The Interpretation of Dreams,” she said. “Freud was a very interesting character.”

  Persona looked down at him from the screen on the wall above his head.

  “Oh hey! There you are. I can actually see your face now.”

  “Lucky you,” he replied with a sarcastic grin. “You’re a lot cuter than I thought you’d be Persona, and that is the God’s honest truth my lady.” And she was more charming than he thought she could be, though he felt no need to repeat it aloud.

  “And you’re a blonde?” he asked playfully, watching the bundle of bright golden hair disappear into a ponytail pulled tight behind her soft face. Her digital face.

  “I am indeed, but don’t let that fool you into thinking I’m a dumb blonde, Crass.” Persona smiled and gave him a wink. The eyes behind her dark lashes were an ambient blue, the color of the sky on a sunny day in the spring. The designers had done well. Maybe he’d write his little tweet, thanking them for making the Facesnap experience much more enjoyable.

  “I never said that,” he replied. “Hey, could you help me with something?”

  She looked at him and grinned with a calculated delight.

  “Sure I can. What is it you seek?”

  He waited a minute, thinking about how to word his next few sentences so they got through and he didn’t have to repeat himself later.

  “I want to liquidate all of my Bitcoins and move into cash for the remainder of this trip. And possibly for a while after that,” he said, glancing out the window quickly. “Can you get a broker on the phone or something like that?”

  Persona laughed and disappeared to the left side of the screen, minimizing herself, but still talking.

  “No, I can’t do that. It’s the year 2031, but a talking, comprehending, and intuitive computer program can’t make a simple phone call from the Moon.” There was a succession of fading laughs.

  The blue screen read: Connecting to KingTrade securities…

  It blinked this intermittently. A soft dial was pushing through to a line somewhere far off in a cramped office building in New York.

  New York, New York.

  And Crass was direct from Room A-12 at the LunaDome, address—Mare Tranquillitatis, a few degrees above the equator, The Moon. Zip code unknown at this time.

  The tiny blip on the screen maximized to a full scale picture, revealing a young man with gelled black hair combed suavely to the side. He had on his observation glasses, and Crass noticed green and red candlestick holograms dancing in the clear lenses. The man took them off, and tossed them on the desk.

  “Good evening. This is Travis Knight with KingTrade Securities. I’ve got a few security questions to go over with you and we can get started, ok?”

  Crass answered the questions. There were only about three of them.

  “Alright, Mr. Duval, now that we’ve got that out of the way, what can I help you with today?” he asked with enthusiasm.

  “I had a dream moments ago and it’s making me reconsider my Bitcoin position.” Crass scratched the stubble on his face. “I’d like to liquidate and move all into cash.”

  The broker’s eyes blinked sharply, and nearby were the sounds and chatter of the other stockbrokers on the floor buying and selling, talking in a fast code that was hard to decipher, even on a good day, and way in the background, coming in at low volume, but still there on some level, was the cantankerous honking of taxicabs on the busy streets below.

  “Let me pull up your account,” Travis said, grabbing his glasses off the desk and sliding them over his eyes. There was a pause, a second or less. Cash got this guy in a hurry. Didn’t it everybody?

  “You’ve got five hundred and sixty-five thousand Bitcoins in your account, Mr. Duval. You want a market or limit order?” He looked at him for an answer.

  Crass rubbed his hands together and thought for a moment.

  “No waiting,” he said quickly. “Put in the market order and let me know when it all goes through.” He turned and gazed out the large window, realizing once again he was on the quiet surface of the Moon. The cacophony of the office building had pulled him there only briefly.

  Travis was back on the screen a moment later.

  “I’ll read this back to you, Mr. Duval.” He was reading from somewhere Crass couldn’t see. “You’re selling five hundred and sixty-five thousand Bitcoins at the market.”

  “Last trade was around nine-eighty.” Travis mentioned freely, scanning his computer. “It’s been climbing steadily since everyone became interested in cryptocurrency about twenty years ago. It’s kind of the new wave around here.”

  There was another pause and then he said, “Alright, Mr. Duval, your order has gone through. We’ll process it shortly, and you should see the funds in your account in about three hours.”

  “Is there anything else I can do for you?” he asked. He smiled politely, and Crass found it to be a nice gesture. Commissions had a way of workin
g in percentages unlike a pay scale ever could.

  “Yes,” Crass said. “How much did they fetch a-piece?”

  Travis looked down at his screen again, then back at him.

  “Nine hundred eighty-two dollars and twenty-seven cents,” he said quickly. “The total sale was almost $550 million dollars. That’s the amount of funds pending in your account right now.”

  Damn. Goddam.

  The value had skyrocketed in the past few years he owned them, and now he actually felt like he was rich. The digital greenbacks in his account were to thank for that. What in the name of all hell he would do with it all was a task he was reserving for another point in time.

  “Ok. Thanks Travis,” Crass said. A smile stretched across his face. “Hey, what time is it there?”

  “Ummm…let me take a look,” Travis wheeled back to the TV in his office chair. “It is two minutes after three, Eastern Daylight time,” he said, pulling his shirt sleeve back down over his Tag Heuer watch. You couldn’t miss that beautiful Swiss tachymeter and polished steel case.

  What time zone were they in, here? Eastern was where they’d left from, off the emerald coast of Florida. He remembered to ask someone working at the welcome desk later.

  “Your day is almost over then, right?” Crass asked. He slid the chair out from under the nook and sat down. The light from the window shined down on his skin, illuminating the curly black swirls of arm hair.

  “It’s close, but I stay for after-hours trading most days,” Travis said. “I’m usually home about seven or eight. There are some long days around here, but I enjoy the work.” He’d taken off his glasses and rubbed the arms with his hand.

  “Thanks for your help again, Travis,” Crass said. “I’m not a superstitious man, but sometimes dream do mean things, and this one was weird enough to make me wanna call you.”

  Travis smiled and shook his head in agreement. “That’s what we’re here for Mr. Duval. Take care now and enjoy the rest of your vacation.”

  “Thanks,” Crass started to say, but the screen had already faded away into the azure depths of the monumental liquid crystal display. And another thing. He didn’t remember telling the broker he was on vacation. Maybe that had been done by Facesnap, unless the guy was a clairvoyant.