Gravitational Constantly: A Novella

by Weddle, J. A.

  When I got back to the bar, I saw that business had picked up. It must have been late evening now because the place was booming. It's hard to tell time on Luna without looking at a clock. The space dome was a constant array of stars and blinking shuttles. All of the structures on Luna are under pressurized glass with special tinting, and the lighting is always a constant twilight—white light, but very soft. My eyes agreed with the lighting quite much. I had never liked bright or yellow light.

  I approached the bar to find my spot on the end had been taken by some suit. He had a fit look and a fantastic haircut from the back. Just as I was striding up behind him, the doe-eyed bar tender saw me and looked up. He caught her glance and turned to face me. It was Jayce Godspeed.

  “You see?!” Jayce beamed. “My feelings are usually right!”

  “Jayce …” I said disbelievingly.

  “You two know each other?” she asked from behind the bar.

  “We met on the ride up this afternoon.” Godspeed looked to the lady barkeep. “Cara, this is Andy Wright.”

  “I've already had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Wright,” Cara said smoothly.

  Jayce looked back and forth at Cara and me and with a smile said, “Well, since we all know each other, how about we get a table and have a drink?”

  “Sure,” I said with a bit of hesitation.

  Cara mixed another whiskey sour for myself, a martini for Jayce, and justifiably so, a Cosmopolitan for herself. Cara turned to the other bartender on duty and said, “It's all yours, Tom. I'm entertaining guests this evening.” We took a quiet table in the corner and sat down.

  Nervously, I asked, “Is it okay for you to sit with us?”

  Cara and Jayce glanced at each other playfully.

  Cara looked to me. “I think it will be okay,” she said with a smile.

  “Cara runs the place, Andy,” Jayce said.

  “Wow…” I looked around in amazement “…you own the place?”

  Again, Jayce and Cara's eyes met, this time not so playful. It was as if I had said something taboo or asked a stupid question.

  “No, Mr. Wright. I just manage Cosmos,” Cara said a little sullenly.

  Jayce cleared his throat. “So, Andy, I see you didn't get too far since I last saw you.”

  “Far enough,” I said, staring out the open dome view.

  “Here is as good as anywhere,” Cara said with the hint of a smile on her lips. “… And better than most everywhere else.” Her full smile came to fruition. She sipped her drink as if it was the last drop of water in the whole world, slow and savoring the moment—thankfully.

  “How has business been?” Jayce asked as he shifted his attention to Cara. He had a way of focusing himself on you, as if you were the only thing that mattered in the entire universe at that moment. His eyes sparkled and his facial expressions twitched ever so slightly at the excitement and anticipation of your reply.

  “Dreadfully slow,” Cara said with over exaggeration. “The shuttles bring less tourists with every trip. It seems that Earth has already gotten bored of Luna.”

  Jayce looked out the open dome view for a moment in silence. “You think so?” he asked with a smile. “Well, our new friend here has just arrived. You're not bored yet, are you, Andy?”

  I finished my drink and sat the glass down with a thud. Slightly harder than I intended. “Not at all,” I said with a big stupid grin on my face. I looked again out the open dome view. “I think I'll live here.”

  Jayce laughed as if he thought it were hysterical, and Cara smiled a little smile that I could have sworn seemed to make her look like she was blushing.

  We had more drinks brought to the table and talked into the night, or whatever you call the hours at which a person sleeps in the constant twilight of Luna. It was easy to talk to Jayce and Cara, and not entirely because of the alcohol. They both had a general indifference to the world around them. We never once discussed politics, religion, or what was going on back on Earth. Cara told funny stories about celebrities from Earth who had come to Cosmos and left a drunken mess. We laughed about a famous actor who had staggered his way over to the open dome view after too many drinks and puked all over himself at the sight. There was also a well-to-do heiress that had a fear of flying, so on the way up, she had self-medicated with a muscle relaxer and martini and fell asleep. Her friends had to carry her off the shuttle when they arrived. They of course found their way to the finest bar in the Port district and began having drinks. The heiress awoke to find herself in Cosmos, looking out the massive open dome view and reeling from vertigo. She could hardly stand. The only way they could get her back through the open glassed terminal and onto the shuttle was a heaping helping of liquid encouragement. It made the tabloids apparently.

  Jayce talked about his trips to and from Earth. He had met many characters in transition. Several of them had been entrepreneurs with new ideas for the tourism market on Luna. His favorites were a group of wide-eyed college kids that had come to Luna in search of the next big thing. Apparently, they had found it and had gotten it in their head to film an ad outside District space. Somehow they had sneaked in and stolen survey equipment in the Science district and were outside District space, filming their advertisement, when the gravity generator on their vehicle went out, leaving them all floating helplessly about, tethered to their rover. After radioing mayday, a search and rescue team brought them back safely, promptly sending them back to Earth, detained and awaiting trial.

  The hour grew grave and the three of us were breathing fire. Jayce was the first to throw in the towel, showcasing his true strength of character.

  “My first night back to Luna and you two are going to have me paying hell tomorrow!” Jayce exclaimed. “I'm heading home,” he said as his gaze stuck on Cara. “What about you, sport,” he said turning to me. “You did book a room didn't you?” he asked with a thunderous laugh.

  “You know, I actually think I did!” I bellowed and slapped the table.

  “We better get this one on a shuttle to his hotel, Jayce,” Cara said as she stood.

  “It's a good thing I ran into you two,” I carried on while taking each of their shoulders with an arm. “Who else would take care of a hapless vagabond on his first trip to the Moon?”

  They walked me to the shuttle junction, laughing and teasing me as I stumbled. The sights were a blur of amazement and disbelief. The other restaurants and bars were closing up and people were moving here and there. Shuttles on mag-lock tracks took off at blinding speeds, leaving the Port and heading to one of the other three districts. When my shuttle slowed to a stop, the door opened and Jayce and Cara unhanded me.

  “Will you be alright?” Jayce asked.

  “I'm sure I'll find my way. What could go wrong?” I said sarcastically.

  “It was a pleasure, Mr. Wright. Welcome to Luna. I'm glad you are here,” Cara said. And then she smiled. A smile that might have lulled me to sleep that night if I had remembered falling asleep at all.

  I sat down and closed the hatch door. The shuttle was big enough to seat four, with two seats, one facing the other. It was comfortable and quiet.

  “Hotel,” I said, watching Jayce and Cara through the hatch window.

  The shuttle began to hum and then jerked away so quick that Jayce and Cara disappeared from my sight like they had been a dream all along. I moved through several tunnels and then before I knew it I was under the pressurized glass infrastructure, gliding along the surface of Luna in between districts. I could see Earth now, giant and blue green. I thought for a second that I was homesick. Speeding along the surface of the Moon in the black of space, only the stars and the electric hum of the shuttle to keep me company, I thought for a moment that I had made a mistake. It only lasted a moment, because that was all the time I needed to think about it. I was now gliding through junctions and tunnels that connected to the Tourism district. After several moments of being in almost complete dark, I emerged in a much larger structure than the Port district.
The Tourism biome was enormous. I could see lots of open space for parks and little shops here and there. There were flashing lights in the distance and what looked like the casinos and main drag. The amusement park was a myriad of giant erector sets, too far off to be made sense of.

  “Destination?” a computer voice with a female tone asked.

  I was startled and fell over in my seat, looking around. I sat up and dug in my pocket, cursing under my breath. I pulled out the receipt from earlier and read the name of the hotel, “Spiti.”

  “Acknowledged,” the computer returned.

  The shuttle was there in just a few minutes. The hum slowly dissipated until I came to a complete stop. The mag-lock engaged, the hatch door puffed as the hydraulics were released, and it swung up and open. I pulled myself to my feet and got out, examining the shuttle in bewilderment of its efficiency. As quickly as it had arrived, the door closed, locked and prepared to depart. The electric hum wound up before it took off on its way. I made haste toward the hotel, stumbling more than I care to admit.

  There was no one in the lobby, save for a single clerk behind the desk: a small woman with red hair, a round face and matching waist. The conversation was short and slurred. I had my key and was in the elevator. Brass buttons, white marbled floor, room 617. Green light means enter. Spectacular view; space and stars … and darkness. Bed. Sleep. Darkness.

  Chapter III

  When I was eighteen we moved to a split-level house. My brother and I both had a room on the bottom level. The bottom level was half underground and half above, so you really couldn't call it a basement. My room was on the back side of the house. The back deck was above my bedroom window, which blocked out most of the sun. It was a dark room and that suited me pretty well, I guess. I had chosen to paint the walls a deep moss green, and although it never seemed to suit my overall personality, it provided the right light for that period of my life—great for late nights and late mornings. When the sun set each day, it passed over the deck and into my window. I had gotten a spectacular set of faux bamboo blinds to blot out the sun's wrath, which caused an amber-orange glow to radiate through my room. At that time it was the only lighting that I had ever felt totally comfortable with. Perhaps it was the spectrum of light that my eyes preferred, or maybe it was the thought of something beautiful being extinguished, but somewhere my soul found peace in a sunset.

  I awoke in my hotel room to that orange glow. I lay there, propped against my headboard for half an hour or so, watching the sun fade to twilight. The light never fully fades away on Luna, but instead diffuses over its protective domes and filters down to the eye in a persistent twilight. Beautiful and sad. Once the sun had set completely, I made myself get up and take some aspirin and a shower. My head felt like it had been in a vise after last night at Cosmos. I thought about Jayce and Cara and tried to put the events of the evening in order. An exercise in futility. I did recall that I enjoyed myself.

  I sat in my robe for some time, looking over the tourist attraction brochures and museum pamphlets. There is a lot to do on Luna for new comers: a trip to the Neal Armstrong National Park; a visit to the casinos; a day at Luna One, the amusement park; or a guided tour of all of Luna's districts and its infrastructure. Nothing particular seemed to strike me.

  I got dressed and found my wallet and hotel key. When I left the hotel, I suddenly realized that it was probably a nicer place than I had intended on staying. All of the rooms had very nice white wood and brass trim doors that I hadn't noticed the night before. The carpet was a pristine deep blue with a very plush under cushion that was pleasant on the soles of your feet. The elevator exited to a grand staircase wrapped with intricate wood handrails on both sides, which led into the lobby. A crystal chandelier with dark purple stones glimmered overhead. I was pleased by its elegance, but I doubted that I could afford to stay at … Spiti—I’d read from the sign on the wall.

  The bellhop opened the door for my exit, wearing a matching blue suit that complimented the carpet. His cufflinks were brass with red ovals and yellow trim. He wore a black tie with a perfect double Windsor. I liked that.

  “Good day, sir,” said the bellhop. “Can I call you a shuttle?”

  “No, thank you,” I said. “How far of a walk is the park from here?”

  “Luna One is quite a ways. You’ll probably want me to get you that shuttle,” he said.

  “No, um, not the fun park,” I said with some effort. My head was still hurting and my body felt the effects of the hangover. “I just want to go to the park … park. You know?”

  “Oh, then you want to go to Armstrong Park. It's just eight blocks down the main drag here. Can't miss it. Don't worry, you can still have fun there too.” He laughed.

  I tried to laugh too, but all I managed was “Yeah, I'll try,” and dryly at that.

  On the way to the park, I passed other hotels with fancy architecture. The “Hotel Endeavor” had a glass monument that looked like the original shuttle from early space exploration. People were going and coming from the hotels in shuttle cars. Families, couples, and groups of friends scurried about. Everyone was smiling or laughing, it seemed. This was certainly a place of happiness or distraction. I couldn't tell which. It was like Luna was just one giant amusement park and everyone was enjoying the ride. Maybe it was the hangover, but I didn't seem to share their excitement. I also noted that out of all the people I passed, I was the only person alone.

  I had held out hope for Armstrong Park. When I was younger I used to dream of going to the park and seeing Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin's landing site. The area had been closed off and made into a monument. They even had the original lander anchored in place and sectioned off. It seemed like something out of movie when I was a kid, but now I worried that the ease of travel to Luna would water down the experience.

  Plants and trees densely populated the park, despite being on the Moon. They had gone to great lengths to ensure that some part of Earth had a presence on Luna. It was surreal to see ferns and lilies, great pines and other coniferous vegetation growing here. It achieved their desired effect: it was comforting. On the many stone walkways, there were vendors selling everything from memorabilia to ice cream. I made my way past young couples eating ice cream cones while sitting on benches, families pushing strollers, and staff mulching flower beds. I arrived at the center of the great park where the Armstrong 'walk' took place. There was a monument there featuring a great silver plaque engraved with Armstrong's famous quote. Other tourists were leaning against the railing, taking pictures and pointing at the lander. It was hard to believe I was standing there. If I hadn't looked up to see the blanket of stars wrapped around a giant blue-green marbled Earth, I would have sworn that this had been any other park on Earth. But it wasn't. And I was on Luna, in Armstrong Park. Alone.

  I got an ice cream cone and sat on a bench, watching people come and go for some time. There was a sort of calm and serenity sitting on that bench that I had seldom felt—maybe never. The atmosphere light and airy, soft jazz played from somewhere in the park. Nothing like I've ever heard before. Progressive. Every note from the piano seemed to be on my mind. It droned out the laughs and conversations from passersby. I was lost in a timeless tune recorded on vinyl, with all the scratches and perfect imperfections that come along with it. If the pressurized plating above my head had cracked and all the air, and myself, leaked out into space ending the tune with a static hiss, that would have been fine by me.

  I stayed in the park until it closed, walking the many pedestrian paths, observing and enjoying the contrast of flora and its very existence on Luna. On the way back to my hotel, I thought about stopping at one of the restaurants and bars. I was peckish and despite waking up with a hangover, I again had a thirst. For a moment I thought about going back to Cosmos. Cara's face floated by in my mind, a smiling, lovely face with sad eyes. There was something to her, for sure. I shook my head, discarding the idea, and made my way into a dining mall.

  There were restaurants
of all kinds, ranging from fine cuisine to quick food. I headed upstairs to a bar and grill with a spectacular view of Earth. Seated at a table for two, I ordered a steak and a gin and tonic. My meal was delicious. A medium-rare porterhouse made to perfection with a cool pink center. It wasn't until I began looking at Earth did I start to think about having beef on the Moon. The idea of eating food that isn't capable of surviving in your current habitat is somehow unsettling. There is a weight to that fact that is intangible. Perhaps it's Nature telling us we aren't supposed to leave Earth. Our bodies may be weighed down by gravity, but our souls float through time and space. How can one separate themselves from that acknowledgment?

  I had finished my meal and was polishing off my drink when I heard a group of men laughing as they came around the corner of the bar behind me.

  “It's just as I always say, when you are right, who can stop you?” said a familiar voice.

  Two men began chuckling.

  A foreign voice bellowed out, “Well, I for one am relieved to hear that the grant has gone through. I know I'm not the only one excited about this project.”