The Wall: Eternal Day

by Brandon Q Morris

  “Of course.”

  “Unfortunately, not everyone does. Wayne thought he didn’t need any extra help.”

  “I always follow my doctor’s orders. That’s how I am. I’m no rebel.”

  “I don’t believe you. I think you consider very precisely what is meaningful to you and what isn’t. And if something doesn’t make sense for you, you don’t do it. You just don’t protest as loudly as Wayne.”

  “Shit, you’ve found me out. Please don’t give me away to the boss.”

  Suddenly, Yue jumped to her feet. Jonathan was caught by surprise. Had he said something wrong? No, that couldn’t be it.

  “Please don’t get up,” she said. “I had a very nice evening with you. We should do it again. But right now, I’ve got to do something. Sleep well!”

  She waved and left the medical station.

  He leaned back, closed his eyes, and tried to detect her lilac scent.

  January 26, 2035 – Moon Base Unity

  Three days later they slept together for the first time, in his cabin. It felt completely natural, as if they’d known each other forever. The sex was unhurried, almost in slow motion. Maybe it had to do with the weakness of malnourishment that had hit all of them by then. Jonathan tried not to overthink it—it was what it was. During the day, they treated each other naturally, like colleagues.

  Yue hadn’t mentioned her boyfriend again. But afterward, they would talk about classical composers, movies that they’d seen, the fantasy novels that Yue was reading, or the strenuous climb to the top of Mount Fuji, one of Japan’s three holy mountains. It was harmless conversation that took them far away from their present situation. The sex beforehand marked the boundary. It took them out of reality and helped them to forget. For fifteen, twenty minutes, there was only their bodies, and afterward, the light conversation.

  Several times Jonathan thought that maybe Yue was only sleeping with him for these talks, but he would deliberately push those thoughts aside.

  “I have a proposal for redesigning the greenhouses,” Kenjiro said at the morning meeting.

  Almost everyone was sitting lethargically around the table in the command center. But Maxim wasn’t there, as he had the late shift that day.

  “We’re listening,” Yue said.

  “We eliminate all of the foundation, the substructure,” Kenjiro said. “Then we’d only need a roof. We could reduce the construction time to maybe ten days.”

  “What about the water lines and power cables?” Wayne asked.

  “Right. Those we’d have to bury. But we’d place the greenhouses right next to each other. Then we’d need at most a meter-long channel.”

  “You wouldn’t put the topsoil in some sort of basin then?” Yue asked.

  “No, it’d go right on the regolith at the surface. So, the regolith would become topsoil.”

  “That might create drainage problems, Ken.”

  “Then we’d have to be frugal when watering.”

  “We’d have to crawl around to do any work in the greenhouses,” said Wayne.

  “Yes, that’s one disadvantage. But we could get the food production going faster. Within two months, we could have six new greenhouses erected. And when those are operating, we’d be independent.”

  “Two months for construction,” Wayne calculated, “two weeks to make the ground fertile, then four weeks until the first harvest, all so we can be self-sufficient in three-and-a-half months. Unfortunately, we’d all have starved by then.”

  “You’re forgetting the ARES, Wayne,” Yue said. “They should reach lunar orbit in one month.”

  “I’ll believe that when they get here.”

  February 10, 2035 – Moon Base Unity

  Wayne sounded desperate. “Goddamn shit for a printer! I can’t get it to work.”

  “Jonathan will be there soon. He’s getting dressed,” Yue said.

  His colleague had requested help a half hour ago. He was having problems with the 3D printer that was making the transparent covers for the greenhouses. They were already behind schedule, anyway. But jumping into the airlock right away wouldn’t help anyone. If Jonathan wanted to avoid permanent damage to his body, he needed to exercise first.

  “Tell him he should bring a crowbar,” Wayne said.

  “I’ll get one,” Yue answered and left the command center.

  Jonathan slid his legs into the lower part of the spacesuit. The short exercise on the stationary bike had been much harder for him than usual. The constant hunger had started to affect his performance. The protein deficiency was beginning to eat away at his muscles. He would’ve rather rested and taken it easy, but their need to work on the greenhouses didn’t allow any of them that luxury. And once the greenhouses were done, the crops should help them avoid this situation ever again.

  Yue appeared again. She placed a crowbar leaning against the wall beside him, and he picked it up at once. The thing was heavy, maybe eight kilograms, and that was with the moon’s gravity.

  “Thanks. Can you help me with the HUT?” he asked.

  The mask muddled his words somewhat, but Yue understood him, nevertheless. She moved behind him and lifted the upper part just like he needed. Then she handed him his helmet.

  “You’re very thoughtful,” he said, smiling.

  “Okay, you lovebirds, I can hear you,” Wayne said over the radio. “It’d be nice if I could get some help when it’s convenient for you two. Right now, I’m not getting anywhere.”

  Oh, the helmet radio must’ve already been switched on. At least the forced break while Wayne waited for him appeared to have cooled his colleague down somewhat.

  “I’m already in the airlock,” Jonathan said, hurrying so that his words were almost true.

  “There you are, finally.”

  Wayne came up to him in long, bounding strides. It gave the impression the guy had limitless energy, but it was probably due to the moon’s low gravity. It was not easy to take small steps on the moon.

  Jonathan raised the roughly 1.2-meter-long crowbar.

  “Great,” Wayne said. “Maybe that can help us make some progress.” He pointed forward.

  Jonathan looked and saw the black silhouette of a witch’s house in front of a sea of gray. In addition, he saw three flat, round hills that could have also been over-dimensioned graves. Those were the greenhouses they had already completed. There were even objects that looked something like gravestones—the airlocks, which were about 1.7 meters tall and provided a way to enter, or more precisely, crawl into the greenhouses.

  They approached the witch’s house—the 3D printer. Technically, it consisted of a combination of a cement mixer and an inkjet printer. The starting materials were mixed and heated in a drum. Depending on the target object, they would use a higher or a lower percentage of lunar dust. The gray lunar dust was not suitable for the transparent roof panels, so 90 percent of the material was a special plastic from Earth.

  Fortunately, there had once been big plans for the moon base, and thus a large amount of this valuable building material had been brought here back in the early days. The final, heated mixture was then fed into a print head that layered the material three-dimensionally and made the object layer by layer.

  “So, what’s the problem?” Jonathan asked. He walked once around the 3D printer without any noticeable problems jumping out at him.

  “Try pulling out the printed plate.”

  Protruding out of the backside of the device was an almost finished plate. Jonathan pulled on it, but it didn’t budge even a millimeter. He pushed down on it and the plate bent a little.

  “Whoa! Be careful that you don’t break it. The stuff’s very brittle,” Wayne said, “and if it breaks, we don’t have any more that we can draw from.”

  “Got it.”

  “Give me that crowbar.”

  Jonathan handed the tool to Wayne, who said, “Here’s my proposal. You pull on the plate as hard as you can, and I’ll try to lever it out from behind. I must weigh tw
enty kilos more than you, so I think I’ve got a better chance from behind.”

  “Let’s give it a try.” Jonathan positioned himself at the end of the plate. He pushed the lunar dust to the side with his boots so that he wouldn’t slip, and one boot came up against an edge that was perfect for bracing himself.

  “On three,” Wayne said. “One, two, three!”

  He pulled on the plate. His muscles ached, making him feel like a useless sack of sand with no strength.

  Wayne said with a groan, “That didn’t do anything,”

  Jonathan let go of the plate.

  “Five minutes rest,” Wayne said.

  “What if we can’t get the plate out? What then?”

  “No idea, Jon.”

  “We’ve only got the one printer?”

  “Right. I guess we’d have to build the greenhouses without natural lighting. It’d take longer and use up a lot more energy to operate. I don’t know if it’d be enough for ten people.”

  “For ten?”

  “Well, there are still four more coming from the ARES.”

  “So, you don’t think we’ll all fly to Mars together then?”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “But Mars is better suited for survival. The atmosphere provides a little protection, and there are a greater number of resources.”

  “And dangers that we don’t even know about yet. At least here we know what we’re dealing with. And if Earth doesn’t come out from behind that shell again, well, that’s it for humankind, anyway.”

  “You don’t think the ten of us could start a new civilization?”

  “I’d happily make many beautiful babies with one of our lovely ladies. Perhaps Atiya. You can believe me,” Wayne said with a smile. “But you don’t seriously think that we could become something like the ancestors of all humankind that way, do you? My kids are then supposed to procreate with yours, and Max and Ken are supposed to get it on with the ARES commander, perhaps? Sure, maybe things were like that once upon a time, maybe 6,000 years ago according to the Bible. But things didn’t usually work out all that well back then. Just think of Cain and Abel.”

  “Ah, but all of us are much more sensible now than humans 6,000 years ago,” Jonathan said.

  “I don’t think you really believe that. All it’d take would be for one person to not play along—anyway, enough rest. We’ve got work to do. I’ll try setting the crowbar a little farther back.”

  Once again, Jonathan pulled on the plate. Wayne groaned loudly. And then the plate suddenly flew against him, knocking him over and causing him to tumble in the lunar dust.

  “Yahoo!” Wayne shouted. “You okay?”

  Jonathan stood up and brushed the dust from his suit. “Seem to be. So, you need me for anything else?”

  “Hopefully not. I’ll try to make up for the lost time.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you inside then. Don’t overdo it. Low-calorie intake can sometimes cause people to crash suddenly.”

  “Roger that. By the way, Jonny-Boy, is there something going on between you and Yue?”

  Jonathan replied in an unusually quiet manner. “Uh, what?”

  Wayne spoke up, “I wanted to know if the two of you are a couple.”

  “Uh, yeah. I think so.”

  “You think so.” Wayne laughed loudly. “Don’t try to overthink it, buddy. We’ve got a new civilization to populate. Well, I hope you’re having fun, at least.”

  February 18, 2035 – Moon Base Unity

  If he’d had to choose, he wouldn’t have predicted Atiya would be the first one of them to be seriously affected by the malnutrition. The Kenyan hadn’t appeared at her afternoon shift, and Yue had finally found her unconscious in her room. Now she was in the medical station. Her condition was stable. Jonathan had started an IV for her, but she had not yet regained consciousness.

  However, when he thought about it more carefully, Atiya was a typical candidate for just such a collapse. She didn’t talk much, and she would never have complained about her small portions. She had always had an athletic figure, not one gram of fat too much. She had a high basal metabolic rate, so her body had quickly started attacking her muscles. If only he’d checked her values more often, he would have caught the significantly elevated proportions of protein degradation products. But a week ago, the numbers had only been slightly elevated, and he’d barely seen Atiya since then.

  He stood next to her and stroked the dark skin of her hand. She breathed quietly, as if she was only sleeping. The heart rhythm and brain waves didn’t show anything to be concerned about. Maybe she only needed a few extra calories and some rest. If that was the case, she should wake up some time that evening or overnight.

  “May I?” It was Yue. Jonathan nodded. She stood next to the medical chair and looked at the patient. “I should’ve noticed it,” Yue said.

  “I... I should’ve noticed it.”

  “No, I should have. She’d become very withdrawn during the last few days. She was probably suffering, but she didn’t want to bother anybody.”

  “I’d tell you.”

  “Yeah?” Yue looked at him. She had tears in her eyes.

  “Yes, my darling.”

  “Good.” She sniffed. Then she turned around and left the medical station.

  She returned one hour later. Atiya was still sleeping. This time there wasn’t sadness in Yue’s face, but horror.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Big problem. The ARES is coming even later now.”

  “Oh.”

  “They had a problem with the main engine.”

  “The rich get richer, and the poor get poorer.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s just a saying. There’s an old Arab proverb that says, “Everything is small at the beginning and then grows—except trouble, which is big at the beginning and still grows.”

  “But this is real.”

  “You need to tell them that things are starting to get critical here. I... I don’t know who is next. When someone else will break down.”

  February 19, 2035 – Moon Base Unity

  The next was Wayne. Wayne, the boor, never at a loss for one offensive comment or another. Wayne, the athlete. Strong Wayne. He had collapsed outside in his spacesuit. Kenjiro had brought him back inside, and Maxim and Yue had carried him to the medical station. Jonathan had gotten a bed from Wayne’s room. The medical station only had one bed, and Atiya was already on it.

  They both had the same problem—because they had no more reserves, each of their bodies was attacking itself. Atiya had come out of the coma sometime around midnight, but she was still sleeping a lot. She was still so weak that Jonathan had to put a catheter in her. She had been hiding and resisting her weakness for too long. As a preventative measure, he’d increased the portions for everyone to 60 percent of daily requirements. Perhaps they would run out more quickly, but he also didn’t want to lose anyone as long as he was alive himself. That was the worst. He’d become a doctor to help people, not to bury them.

  He checked their vital signs. He could stabilize Wayne with an IV. But Atiya’s metabolism had already changed so much that soon there would be a risk of permanent damage. They needed help, and fast.

  Jonathan left the medical station. He met Yue and Maxim in the command center.

  “Is he...?” Maxim asked.

  “Wayne is reasonably stable. But we need help right now. Can you contact the ARES again?”

  “They’ve managed to get their engine problem under control,” Maxim said.

  “That’s not enough. They need to find a shortcut somehow. We need them soon. Very soon.”

  “I’ll talk to them,” Yue said.

  “But we can’t just rewrite the laws of orbital mechanics to suit ourselves,” Maxim said.

  February 19, 2035 – Mars Ship ARES

  “We’ve got to do something,” Judith said. “Otherwise, half the moon base is going to starve before we get there.”


  “There’s nothing we can do about the engine problem now,” Michael said. It was strange sometimes how fate played out. He’d had nothing to do with the engine failure.

  “I’m not worried about that now,” JR said. “But we’ve got to find some way.”

  “Maybe we could radically change our trajectory?” Giordano asked.

  “Radically? Put the moon directly in our crosshairs, perhaps?”

  “No, Mike. But we could use the Earth’s atmosphere.”

  “You forget that there’s a barrier there now. We’d never even reach it.”

  “It doesn’t begin abruptly, of course. Even an altitude of 120 kilometers would provide some braking effect,” Giordano said.

  “Ah, you want to move our perigee just above the shell,” Judith said. “What could that give us?”

  “I’d have to calculate it. It also depends on how things are above the shell now. Since it appeared, the particle density might’ve increased there. And the solar wind is constantly battering the shell too. The radiation is being reflected, but maybe the ions are being distributed around the sphere.”

  “It’d also give us a close look at the problem,” François said. “Up to now, we’ve only seen the shell from a distance. Who knows? Maybe we’d discover a way to crack it.”

  “You guys are dreaming,” Michael said. “If we fly toward the shell without knowing its exact characteristics, it could end up killing us all. If the density is now higher than we assume, couldn’t we burn up too much speed and crash against the shell? We’re the last survivors of the human race, and I think we should act a little more cautiously.”

  The flight to Mars was becoming increasingly unlikely the longer they kept trying to deal with Earth’s problems. That was what he wanted to say, but nobody wanted to hear it.