SuperMoon

by H. A. Swain

  “I am Aurelia 8.1,” the robot says. Her large blue-lit eyes blink in her sculpted faceplate. She bends at the waist and extends an arm to me.

  “I thought these kinds of bots had been banned,” I say, my heart still fluttering in my chest as Aurelia helps me up.

  “Brain uploads and the development of strong AI were banned on parts of the Earth due to fears of a hostile superintelligence takeover,” Aurelia explains.

  “Yeah, but that’s mostly in Merica,” Talitha says with a laugh. “You guys hate science over there.”

  I walk in a slow circle around Aurelia, whose head spins 180 degrees to follow me. “Tell me about yourself,” I command, and Aurelia complies.

  “I am Aurelia 8.1. I was developed by Zaniah Nashira—”

  “Zaniah Nashira! THE Zaniah Nashira?” My voice is too loud, and my entire body trembles when I hear her name. I can barely contain my excitement. “Is she here?” I ask the robot. “Can I meet her?”

  “Zaniah Nashira perished in the Great Tsunami,” Aurelia explains.

  “What?” My heart falls. I bury my fingers in my hair and hold my head as the sadness hits me hard. The one person in the universe most like me was snatched away by some capricious natural disaster before I could ever meet her. “How can Zaniah Nashira be dead?” I cry.

  “Who the heck is Zaniah Nashira?” Talitha asks.

  Aurelia tilts her head up to look at Talitha, who is taller by at least a foot. “Zaniah Nashira was an Earth-born human whose parents died during the Battle of the Colorado River. Brilliant as a child, she was recruited by MUSC when she was ten years old. Her research was used to develop a sophisticated brain-to-brain interface program, the breakthrough technology that enabled the creation of ExploroBots—”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” says Talitha. “Are you telling me that the person who made you, Aurelia, is the same person who invented ExploroBot technology on the Moon?”

  “This is terrible,” I say, my heart broken.

  “Awful!” says Talitha. “Just horrifying!”

  “Wait,” I say. “Why are you sad? Didn’t you know she was dead?”

  “I don’t care about her,” says Talitha, a sick look on her face. “I’m upset that the person who made Aurelia is the same one who invented ExploroBots!” She crosses her arms tight against her chest. “Do you know what ExploroBots are?”

  “Yes, I think so,” I whisper. A chill passes over my body, and I stiffen, wondering what Talitha might think of me if she knew where I’m from.

  “Well,” she says, eyebrows up, “don’t you think what MUSC does to soldiers from Earth is horrendous?”

  “Well, actually, yes,” I tell her honestly, without hesitation. “I think it’s the worst thing in the universe.”

  Talitha’s face softens, and she drops her arms to her sides. “Me too,” she says quietly. “Me too.”

  “Talitha,” Aurelia says, “have you come for a viewing tonight?”

  “What’s a viewing?” I ask, relieved to change the topic away from MUSC.

  “Through the telescope,” says Talitha. “Come. We’ll show you!”

  Quasar, Talitha, and I follow Aurelia across the large stone terrace overlooking the half-lit city below. “Whoa,” I say, slowing down. “Look at that!”

  Talitha stops and points to landmarks. “See how the lights dot the darkness south and east of the 101 ET3 Tube? That’s where the ReConstruction crews have made progress over the years. Those dark areas haven’t yet been reclaimed. People call them things like Drowney, Torrents, and Miracle Mire. Of course, those names are only funny if you weren’t here during the Great Tsunami.”

  “Were you here?” I ask.

  Talitha shakes her head. “We came after.” She waves me on.

  We circle a promenade around the main cracked dome of the building. Up close, the walls look like an old-fashioned wedding cake covered in white icing and topped with green patinaed metal leaves, most of them intact, thanks to Aurelia’s persistent care.

  As we walk, Aurelia spouts her knowledge. “The viewing tonight will be from the Zeiss twelve-inch refracting telescope manufactured in Germany from 1931 to 1934. This is the oldest continuously operated telescope in the world.”

  While Aurelia chatters about the telescope’s equatorial mount meant to compensate for the Earth’s rotation, I don’t really listen. Instead, I’m taking in the sky that’s faded from blue to dark gray now that the sun is gone. But the moon isn’t visible just yet. Somewhere it hides, like me. Looking for it now, I understand better the pull between the Moon and Earth year after year—each one slowed by the other’s gravitational force, as if they are slowly trying to reunite.

  Aurelia leads us through a heavy steel door into a tiny room beneath a small dome to the left of the promenade terrace. Inside is nothing more than a looming gunmetal gray telescope beneath arching waffled windows and three ancient clocks on the wall, labeled Pacific Time, Sidereal Time, and Universal Time.

  “Why’s that the only one that works?” I ask, pointing to the sidereal clock with a second hand that still spins. The hands on the other two have stalled at different times.

  “It’s the only one that remains relevant,” Aurelia says. “The other two went obsolete when the world economy broke apart.”

  “I never noticed those,” Talitha says, peering at the clocks. “What’s side-real time?”

  “Si-deer-ree-al.” I correct her. “It counts star days, not solar days. Astronomers use it to tell time by measuring the rotation of the Earth relative to a distant star instead of the Earth’s relationship to the sun.”

  “Why?” Talitha asks. “What’s wrong with the sun?”

  “Nothing’s wrong with it,” I say, as overhead, the roof of the domed room slowly spins around us and a slot in the ceiling slides open to reveal a slice of the starry sky. “But it’s kind of a lie to say the Earth spins once every twenty-four hours. That doesn’t account for the planet’s elliptical orbit or the rate at which the Earth rotates on its axis.”

  “So what?” says Talitha as Quasar spins in his own little circle, then settles on the hard concrete floor. “Why does that matter? I thought time was just an illusion. Isn’t that what someone smart once said?”

  “Yes, but…” I think this over and try my best to explain. “When you track time using the sun, stars appear in the sky four minutes earlier every day. But, when you use sidereal time, stars appear in the same place, at the same time each and every day. That way you always know where to point your telescope without worrying about where Earth is in its orbit.”

  “So, sidereal time gives you what seems like a fixed point of reference?” Talitha asks.

  “Yes!” I exclaim. “Exactly. You’re so smart!”

  “No, not really,” she says, and color rises to her cheeks.

  “What would you like to view tonight?” Aurelia asks.

  “Let’s look at us,” I say, and smile at Talitha. “Aurelia, please locate Ursa Major!”

  Bolts as big as my fist groan, and gear wheels with teeth like some prehistoric plant eater grind as Aurelia moves the telescope into position for Ursa Major.

  I follow Talitha up the creaking steps to the viewing platform. “You go first,” I say.

  She presses her head against the eyepiece. Her hair comes out of its knot and falls around her face. I reach to brush it away.

  She glances at me.

  “Oh, sorry,” I whisper.

  “That’s okay,” she says with a smile, as she twists her hair into a low bun at the nape of her perfect neck.

  When she puts her head down again, I sigh and feel my body tingle.

  “What am I looking at?” she asks.

  “Do you see the Big Dipper?” I say. “It looks like an upside-down pot with a long handle.”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s also called Ursa Major. The great bear. Now follow the line of stars down the handle—Alkaid, Mizar, Alioth, those make up the tail of Ursa Major. And around the bot
tom of the dipper, which is the back flank of the bear, Megrez, Phecda, Merak. Then go straight down from Merak to the front paw of the bear to the star on the toe. That’s you!” I lay my hand on the small of her back and lean closer to her ear so I can pull in the scent of her hair. She smells of jasmine and grass. “That’s Talitha.”

  She turns her head just slightly so our faces are inches apart, and a shiver goes down my spine. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” I ask her.

  We both inhale at the same time, then hold our breath as we gaze at each other, while overhead our stars twinkle in the dark sky.

  “Talitha is also known as Iota Ursae Majoris,” says Aurelia. “It is forty-eight light years away and has a luminosity nine times the sun.”

  Talitha’s eyes seem to linger on me, and for a split second I think maybe she feels the same way I do. I inhale, trying to form a question, but then Aurelia says, “The Moon may provide more interesting viewing tonight.” She shifts the telescope beneath our feet, knocking us off balance and breaking the moment that passed between Talitha and me.

  “Thanks a lot, Aurelia,” Talitha says sarcastically, and I laugh.

  “You’re welcome,” says Aurelia because, like all robots, intelligent or not, she doesn’t register the subtleties of human humor.

  “Your turn,” Talitha tells me.

  We pass each other on the small platform, our hips and shoulders brushing. My temperature rises. If Darshan were with me, he’d ask if I’m all right. And what could I tell him? Nanobrains don’t understand physical attraction. And neither did I until this moment. Whatever I’ve felt for Kepler before was nothing of this magnitude.

  To keep myself from staring at her, I peer down into the eyepiece. “There it is!” I say as the waxing gibbous Moon comes into view and guilt washes over me. Guilt for going against Dr. Fornax’s orders. Guilt for upsetting my mother. Guilt for getting Kepler in trouble. And mostly, guilt for enjoying this moment while they all fret about me from 384,000 kilometers away.

  “During the last quarter waxing phase, the day side of the Moon is illuminated by the sun, so it appears humpbacked in the sky,” Aurelia explains. “Starting at the southern pole of the crescent, you will see the terraforming of TourEsa simulators. Moving northward, find the towers and ever-glowing billboards near the Golden Spike and Jade Rabbit casinos.”

  “That’s where all the Yoobies go on their outer orbit vacations,” Talitha says with disdain. “So decadent!”

  And where most of my cohort is right now, I think with the same amount of contempt.

  Aurelia keeps right on going. “Because of the position of the Moon in relation to the Earth and sun, tonight you will have the most luck viewing Lagrange Point 1—the equatorial point closest to the Earth.”

  She continues to zoom in with the telescope, and then I see it. “MUSC,” I whisper when I see my home.

  “Yes,” says Aurelia.

  I gaze at it from afar, wondering how much trouble I’ve caused. My actions were so impulsive. So stupid and self-centered.

  “First inhabited by ten people on the surface, MUSC is the oldest, most continually inhabited off-Earth colony.” Aurelia blathers out our history. “After six decades, MUSC instituted ExploroBots to begin construction of SkyLabs and domiciles that are connected to the Moon’s surface by six balancing legs and a nonrotating elevator shaft. SkyDocks and Shuttles offer easier and more cost-effective transportation options between the Earth and Moon.”

  “My father helped build that,” says Talitha.

  I pop up and stare at her. “What? How?”

  “He was a soldier, but then…” Her words catch in her throat.

  “An ExploroBot?” I ask, my voice barely audible.

  “He died in the Hetch Hetchy Aqueduct Battle. MUSC bought his body from my mother.” She shakes her head but doesn’t go on.

  I want to pull her close and hug her tight, but I know I can’t. Instead I lay my hand on the small of her back. “I’m sorry, Talitha. So very, very sorry.”

  TALITHA NEVA

  WILDLANDS OF ’FITH, EARTH

  WHEN WE’RE DONE with the viewing and have said good-bye to Aurelia, Uma and I stroll down the Observatory steps beneath the light of the Moon and stars. We cross a brown patch of ground (once a bright green lawn) lined with long-dead street lamps and head over to where Quasar sniffs the brittle grass around a fallen obelisk.

  “Thank you so much for letting me come with you,” Uma says, turning in slow circles to take in the surroundings. “I understand why you and your brother stayed here. It feels almost cozy tucked into these hills overlooking the city. Safe. Like no one or nothing could find you.”

  “Aurelia says that the best life is a life well hidden,” I tell her. “But I’m not so sure about that. She also claims that a long time ago the Observatory was open to the public and people flocked here to look up at the planets and the stars, but I doubt that’s true.”

  Uma stops. “I don’t know. She might be right! Maybe once, some girl from the past stood in this exact spot and imagined a future when people would move up there.” She points to the yellow-bellied moon hanging in the sky. “And now the future that she imagined is our past.”

  “Do you ever think there could be another version of the world?” I ask, feeling shy, afraid Uma will think I’m strange for such thoughts.

  “Actually,” she says, turning to me with wide eyes, “I think about that kind of thing a lot! Like maybe there are all these other realities happening at the same time. And if you could see them all, time would look like a tree branching out with different possibilities.”

  “Yes!” I say as a little shiver of recognition reverberates through my body. I step closer to her. “And maybe you could find a branch where a different past leads to a different version of today. Like, my mom claims that if some elections had come out differently in the past, there could still be a United States.”

  “Or maybe in some different version of the world, people listened to scientists, and they stopped the Earth from slowly dying, so nobody had to go the Moon,” says Uma.

  “Or maybe none of this is real,” I say with a laugh. “Maybe everything’s an illusion and our memories are lies. How do we know this isn’t all a dream?”

  “Because I can see this world and touch it,” Uma says. “And I can describe it. There’s a tree.” She points to an ailanthus tree. “And a rock.” She points again. “And you beside me.” She pokes my shoulder.

  “But maybe we only see the world we can describe,” I say with a laugh.

  “Well, there’s one thing I know for sure,” Uma says. “I’m real.” She reaches out slowly and takes my hand, then presses it against her sternum. I catch my breath when I feel her skin against mine. “And so are you.” She lays her other palm on my chest. “Feel that?” We’re both quiet for a moment as we breathe, our hearts beating in a syncopated rhythm.

  I wish right then that this moment could be my past, present, and future so it would never end.

  “Then the only questions are, who are we, and why did we meet?” she asks, and drops her hand. Her warmth lingers on my skin and makes me blush. She looks back up at the sky.

  “Maybe there are little portals between different versions of reality, and sometimes without realizing it, we step through one of those doors. Like when you came into the bush,” I say.

  “Maybe a door between our worlds flew open?” she asks. I nod. “And there you were?”

  “Yes!” Butterflies whiz through my belly. “There you were, too.”

  Uma bites her lip and walks around the fallen monument to astronomers, kicking glittery stones from the crumbling statues. A dozen different pasts, presents, and futures whiz through my mind as I watch her. Is there a reality in which we never met or one in which we did but we’ll walk away from each other and never see each other again? Or will I find a way to keep her near me tonight? Will we ever kiss? Is that a future that’s already in my past? Or a past that’s in my future?

 
Only one of the spotlights on the lawn still works, so Uma squints in the weak light, reading off the names of long-dead astronomers below each figurine on the ground. “Hipparchus, Copernicus, Galilei.” Then she stops, gasps, and points to the carving of a man holding a compass. “There’s Kepler! How funny. That’s the name of my best friend.”

  Quasar ambles over and nudges me. “Poor pup.” I squat down beside him, and he slings a paw over my arm as I scratch the thicket of fur on his chest. He’s full of burrs and dried leaves from burrowing under the barrier and traipsing through the Wildlands. I feel around in my pockets and inside the red knapsack for a crumb of jerky, but I’m out. “He’s probably famished.”

  “Me too,” says Uma. “I feel like I haven’t eaten in days.”

  “Well…” I debate about what to do. I need to look for the Moonling right away. Those MUSC SecuriDrones can’t be far off, and if they find the runaway before me, I don’t know what D’Cart will do with Castor.

  That thought stops me cold. I imagine him locked inside the tiny room, pacing like a caged wolf, looking for a way out. I have to find the Moonling and get back quickly before he does something stupid. Then again, he told me to try Lost Feelies first and we are starving, so I say, “We could go get some food together if you want.” I hold my breath, afraid that she’ll say no.

  Uma lights up. “That would be amazing!” Then her face falls. “Oh, but…” She trails off and looks away.

  “Sorry,” I say. “I’m sure you have lots of things you need to do, and I—”

  “No, it’s not that.” She wraps her fingers lightly around my wrist. Her hand is warm and soft. “It’s just that … Well, this is embarrassing.” She loosens her grip on me, but I quickly lay my hand on top of hers to keep her close.

  “Don’t be embarrassed,” I tell her. “What is it?” I feel a little queasy. Sure that I’m coming on too strong. But Uma leans in closer. She stands on tiptoes so her lips are near my ear. Her breath on my cheek sends a ripple over my skin like a breeze on still water. I could turn my head a few degrees, and my mouth would brush her forehead.