Ride the Moon: An Anthology (6 page)

Magical.

Shortly after Julia graduated with honours, the Big Collapse happened. Governments around the world started defaulting on loans. Economies sputtered and struggled. Unemployment exploded. More and more people grew desperate for work. Resources became strained to the max. No jobs existed and certainly no jobs for a young woman who wanted to work on a moon landing project.

Then the weather worsened with droughts and sand storms. Even God is against us, people started to say. Julia piped up it was time to head into space but a few shouting arguments with friends and near strangers in bars or grocery stores while redeeming food stamps convinced Julia to keep her opinions to herself.

Evangelists took to the airwaves and Internet, proclaiming the end of days. Food shortages became the norm even in the western world as hoarding and lousy weather conspired to worsen conditions. During this time, Julia realized no one was going to hire her to work on a moon landing. No one was interested in space anymore.

If she wanted to go, she was going to have to do it herself.

She started small, and because no one had any money, she took anything, pennies, nickels, the old ereaders or button computers, fashions from ten years ago, anything she could sell. Her friends called her mad, some with affection and others with anger. The angry ones she dumped. The affectionate ones she kept around.

She worked out of her one room apartment, using a ten year old computer she scavenged. After reviewing data from the most recent attempts, she went back to the beginning, to the first moon landing. Reading about the primitive conditions, she realized that was the way to go. Keep it simple. She didn't need sophisticated computers. If they could do it then she could figure out a way to do it now!

And every month during the full moon, she sat on the roof of her tiny four storey walkup and raised a glass to the bright shining orb.

“One day,” she promised. “One day we'll meet in person.”

Then she met Allan.

He worked in a grocery store, as much job security as anyone could have nowadays. He began to slip her little extras, a few more slices of vat meat, an additional scoop of soya wafers, three bottles of decontaminated water for the price of two. When he asked her out after a month of these little niceties, she said yes. He seemed nice enough.

She told him right away that just because he'd done her favours and given her little extras, he shouldn't be expecting much; she wasn't that kind of girl. Although he was almost a foot taller than her five foot three frame and could easily overpower her, he nodded and made no move even after dinner and an evening sitting on the roof of her tiny walkup. It happened to be a full moon that night. She held her glass against her chest, almost in reverence. Allan noticed her gazing at the moon and spoke the fateful words.

“So you like the moon?” he said.

He spoke with such curiosity she found herself pouring it all out, her love of the moon and dream to visit it. Before she could stop herself, she told him how she'd collected almost five thousand dollars toward her project, not much, but a fortune in these hard times. As his eyes widened at this news, she almost cursed herself for mentioning it out loud. He'd probably try and steal it from her and she'd be back where she started. Well, just let him try, she thought. She'd give him a fight he'd never forget!

“You've done all that to get to the moon?” he said.

“Yes,” she said. “So what?”

“You don't think we need to take care of things here?”

She shook her head. “It doesn't matter about taking care of things here. One day the sun will die and take Earth with it. If we stay here, that's the end of us. We've got to get off this planet and the first step is right there.”

She pointed at the blazing full moon.

He looked at it and then back at her. “You'll need an engine for your rocket,” he said. “I'm pretty good with engines.”

She saw the slight smile on his face, not one of scheming to get her money, but open and confident.

“I know a guy who helps out at the junk yard. He has access to lots of metal. He could get us what we want.”

“Us?” she said.

The smile sputtered on his face like a faltering engine. “Well, I mean, I could help you. If you wanted. If you don't have any help. But if you don't need help...”

His wide shoulders drooped. His head dropped down, turning away from her. He set his own wine glass on the scratched metal roof. His hands wiped on his pants as he leaned forward, getting ready to stand up. He was going to leave, she realized and then thought of what an idiot she'd been. Of course she needed help. She couldn't possibly build a rocket by herself.

“We couldn't get any metal with wear in it,” she said. “I'd have to know for sure that it was strong enough. Space worthy.”

He'd stopped moving at the sound of her voice. As she finished speaking, his head turned to her.

“And any welds or joins would have to be absolutely perfect. Not a leak. And super strong,” she said.

He nodded. “It will take some doing,” he said. “It could take time to find all those perfect pieces.”

“Yes,” she said. “It will probably take years.”

His shy smile curled his lips. “I've got time.”

They married two months later.

Moving into his small, two room apartment didn't save any money since she kept her old place to work in. Years passed and they struggled through, first just the two of them and then when their daughter Amelia came along. Julia took Amelia to her old apartment every day and talked about the project as she worked. Even the day of the big riot.

At first Julia didn't realize anything was happening. She sat at her desk, engrossed in the current orbital projection charts when the sound drifted up from the street four floors below. Amelia, now five years old, picked up her doll and carried it to the living room window facing the street. The sound grew louder. Amelia turned around to face Julia.

“Momma, where's all the people going?”

“What people's that, honey?”

“Them people.”

“Those people.” Julia corrected automatically before she looked up to see Amelia pointing out the window. She set down the charts and crossed to the window. One hand drew Amelia closer even before she looked out the window.

People flooded the street for as far as she could see. Now with her attention on them, she heard the yelling and shouting. Raised fists swung in the air along with sticks or shovels or other implements she couldn't identify.

“Is it a parade, momma?” Amelia said.

Fear tightened Julia's grip on her daughter's shoulder. “I don't think so, honey. We're going to stay here for a while.” She turned her daughter away from the window. “Why don't you come play near the desk? Keep momma company.”

Amelia shrugged. “Okay.” With a final glance at the window, she dragged her doll back toward the desk.

As her daughter sat down on the floor and began to play with her doll, Julia looked out the window at the growing crowd. Already the volume of the noise had increased, even four floors up. Trying to stay casual, Julia crossed to the worn couch and picked up her purse. Several minutes rooting around didn't conjure up the cell phone. She'd been in such a rush this morning, finishing breakfast with Amelia, seeing Allan off to work, she hadn't even grabbed the phone off the charger station. She clenched the purse to her chest, feeling her heart pound against it. Allan. The grocery store was right at ground level. What would this crowd do to her husband?

She bit her lip. She couldn't show her fear in front of Amelia. The child picked up on everything. Normal, Julia would have to act normal. Keep working.

She set the purse back down on the couch. Thank goodness she'd packed food for lunch and snacks. If she delayed long enough, maybe the crowds would disperse by nightfall. She didn't relish the idea of taking her daughter home in the dark but it couldn't be helped. She wouldn't chance the streets with a crowd like that.

Work progressed slowly as the day wore on. The noise outside the window ebbed and flowed. At lunch, Julia proposed a picnic in the living room with a fort made from an old sheet. Amelia giggled as they tried to stop the middle from collapsing. Any time it touched the top of her head she squealed with laughter. Julia tried to laugh along with her but over the sound of her daughter's delight, Julia heard the angry buzz of the crowd outside.

After lunch and the tearing down of the fort, Julia set Amelia down for her nap in the small bedroom off the living room. Tucking the old sheet up to the girl's chin, Julia leaned down and kissed her cheek. The child's eyes drooped even as she fought to stay awake.

“Sleep now, little one,” Julia whispered. “Dream of better days. Dream of walking on the moon and among the stars.”

When her daughter's breath slowed and deepened, Julia tiptoed out of the room, closing the door until she heard the click from the door jam. She crossed over to the window and looked out. If possible, the crowd was bigger.

Allan, she thought, the fear gnawing at her. If only she had a way of contacting him. The small computer she had here didn't have Internet access, even if it was available in this old building, which it wasn't. It wasn't available in most of the cities these days. The economic depression had stunted everything, even caused them to revert, and it wasn't just the dissolution of space exploration, it was everything.

People had lost the ability to dream or care about anything.

Keep working, she thought. Without a cell phone, she had no way to contact Allan and would only get more worried if she just stood here looking out the window. That wouldn't help Amelia when she woke up. Keep working.

She returned to her desk and sat down in front of the orbital charts and building schematics. Her hands rested on the papers without picking any of them up. She looked at the words and lines without reading them.

What was she doing? What had she been doing for years? What kind of life was this, poring over orbital charts and the fiftieth revision of some rocket schematic? Begging for pennies from people worse off than she? Struggling to follow the dream of a naïve child when she now had one of her own to think about? How fair was she being to Amelia?

Tears burned her eyes. Her fingers tightened on the flimsy pages, crunching them.

Pounding sounded on the door behind her.

Julia jumped up from the desk, clutching the papers to her chest. She ran to the door and looked through the peep hole. Two men stood outside, dressed in worn pants and shirts. They pounded again, pushing and working at the door lock.

What could she do? Any minute now the pounding would wake Amelia.

“What do you want?” she said.

The pounding stopped. Through the peep hole, she could see the startled looks on the men's faces.

“Who're you?” the first one said. “No one lives here.”

“I rent this place, it's mine,” she said. “What do you want?”

“We need money for food,” he said. “Can you give us some? Or something to sell?”

“I don't have anything, I'm sorry,” she said.

He frowned. A moment later his head bent down, blocking her view. She heard more fiddling with the lock.

“Please,” she said. “Leave us alone!”

He didn't hear or chose to ignore her. Julia ran back to the living room. The only food left were a few cookies for Amelia's treat after her nap. The only money she had was enough for transit home. There was nothing she could use to defend herself.

The door flew open behind her. She spun to face the two men as they entered. They walked in with heads bowed. An air of apology hung around them.

“I'm sorry, ma'm,” the first one said. “Don't give us any trouble.”

“Did you ever imagine you'd be doing this?” she said. “When you were little, did you ever picture this?”

He frowned. “No.”

“What did you dream of?”

His frown deepened. “I don't know.”

“Of course you know, you've just forgotten,” she said. “It's such a mess now. We've forgotten about dreams. But you must have had one. What was it?”

His shoulders shifted. “Maybe I did. So what? Why?”

“I used to dream of walking on the moon,” she said. Her hands pulled back from her chest, revealing the wrinkled pages. She put them on the desk and smoothed them out.

“I thought we would make it,” she said. “We've got all we need to do it. I thought for sure I could walk on the moon. This is the latest projections of the moon's orbit. That's where it'll be on my birthday.”

She pointed. The men stepped forward and peered at the paper, at the lines and squiggles, the tiny mathematical notations and calculations. She pushed that paper aside and showed them the latest revision of the rocket.

“I'm trying to build a rocket to get there,” she said. “They already did it once with less computer power and technology than we've got. We should be able to do it, right?”

“Who's doing your drawings?” the first man asked. “There are some errors here.”

“Are you sure?” she said.

“I used to be an engineer, before I got laid off. Reggie was an electrician.” The second man nodded.

“I could use you,” Julia said. “You could help me build this rocket.”

The men never knew what hit them as Julia started talking again. When Amelia woke from her nap twenty minutes later, she shared her cookies with Momma's new friends who were going to help build the rocket. By nightfall, the crowd thinned out enough for Julia to leave and the two men, Tom and Reggie, escorted her and Amelia home, Amelia draped over Tom's shoulder. With the transit not running, they walked the five miles home. At her doorstep, Julia pressed the money she'd been saving for transit into Tom's hand but not before extracting a promise from him to meet with her in two days to discuss the design of the rocket.