As she followed Murray pushing his shopping cart of possessions a few feet ahead of her, she now noticed that Murray had written something on the back of his coat in large black figures. She didn’t know how she could have possibly missed it earlier. It looked like he had taken a gigantic felt-tipped pen and written across the whole surface.
“What does that mean?” she asked curiously when they stopped at a crosswalk.
“What?” he replied.
“The writing on your coat. ‘6E.’ Is that your address or something?”
Murray looked at her in surprise, as if he didn’t understand what she meant. “What are you talking about? 6E? What is that?”
“That’s what it says on your back,” Mia said, pointing.
“It does?”
“Yeah.”
“6E?”
“Yup.”
Murray pulled off his coat and held it up in front of him.
“What the hell is this?” Murray asked Mia.
“Don’t ask me. It’s your coat,” she said.
“But that’s not my handwriting.”
“Are you sure?” Mia asked.
“Am I sure? I know what my own handwriting looks like!”
“I was just asking,” Mia protested.
Murray studied the writing on his coat.
“This isn’t good,” he mumbled to himself.
“What did you say?” Mia asked.
“Nothing. Best not to talk about it,” he said, getting agitated. He immediately threw the coat in a nearby garbage can.
“Don’t you want it?” Mia asked. “It’s just pen, it’ll wash out. I’m sure.”
But Murray wasn’t listening to her.
He’s scared, she thought suddenly, and noticed the fear rubbing off on her. The writing on the coat was still visible from the trashcan. From time to time he glanced over his shoulder, as if he was expecting someone to be following him in the darkness.
What are you afraid of? she was going to ask, but didn’t get the chance. When they turned the corner onto Madison Avenue at East Fifty-Seventh Street, Murray suddenly stopped and said, “It’s best if you go on alone from here. The hotel is just over there. No point in anyone seeing me.”
“You think they’d recognize you?”
“I don’t know, but I recognize this place. That’s bad enough.”
“Okay.”
“Take care of yourself, and make sure you come back again. Believe me, the moon is no place to stay. Bad juju.”
And with those words, Murray raised a hand in farewell, swung his shopping cart around, and plodded back down Fifty-Seventh Street again.
It was almost quarter past four in the morning when Mia finally tiptoed past her parents’ hotel room and let herself back into her own. Sander was sound asleep and probably hadn’t even noticed she was gone. She was going to miss him, strange little Sander. She silently kicked off her shoes, took off her clothes, and got into bed.
Something poked her in the side. She ran a hand down to her thigh, felt something, and pulled it up.
It was an envelope. Sander had written her a letter after all.
She was about to open it but changed her mind. No, she thought, I’ll save it for later, when I’m on the moon. When I miss him. That’s what he’d want.
She lay in bed for a while before she fell asleep, thinking about the band, about her friends. What would happen to it, to her? Would there be a band to come home to? Would she even be able to go back to Norway as the same old Mia?
One thing was for sure, anyway. When she got back to Norway, she would make her own decisions about her life. If a vocalist was what she wanted to be (and it was), then that’s what she would be. And if she didn’t want to go trotting around the globe as part of some NASA ad campaign, then she would refuse. Her mind was made up on that.
And she knew she could pull it off.
Because she’d spent a night on the town in New York City, and it had taught her something important: She was the one who decided which path she would take.
THE CREW
On that first day, Midori sat in a small classroom in the largest building at Johnson Space Center in Houston, along with the two other teens, who she knew were named Mia and Antoine. She couldn’t understand why she hadn’t officially been introduced to them yet, even though they had all been staying at that same hotel in New York. She had been the first one in the room, followed by some air force officers and folks from NASA. The instructors arrived minutes later escorting the other two people her age. But before any of them could say one word to each other, or at least nod at each other in recognition, the lesson had begun.
Midori had been told there would be a lot to learn, but when the manuals were tossed in her lap she realized she had been underestimating. The hefty volumes covered everything from an intense crash course in astronomy to how to eat, shower, go to the bathroom, walk, and move around in a weightless environment and on the surface of the moon, where gravity was only one-sixth as strong as on Earth. And there was an entire manual devoted just to safety and emergency preparedness. They’d have to study everything that could go wrong; nothing must be left to chance.
Midori stared down at her lap. There were three thick manuals there, labeled with the titles EXTRAVEHICULAR STAYS, DWELLING MODULE, and CERES/DEMETER. Those words meant almost nothing to her, so she glanced around. The other two teenagers, the girl from Norway and the boy from France, were also sitting there, randomly flipping back and forth through the manuals. She wished she could make eye contact with them. A smile maybe. Something that could lighten the mood a little. She felt a little lame, since she was sure the other two were moon nerds and she wasn’t even remotely interested in it. Now she realized with dismay that she had to summon up the motivation to read and remember over seven hundred pages of dense information. Sure, NASA had translated her manuals into Japanese, but there were limits. She hadn’t been tricked into a whole summer of homework, had she?
“Welcome.” A man in a dark suit with light gray hair moved to stand in the front of the room. “My name is Dr. Paul Lewis. I’m an administrator here at NASA, and it’s my great honor to welcome you here to the Johnson Space Center. And, first of all, let me tell you one thing: You three sitting before me today …” He paused for dramatic effect. “You are the three luckiest people on this planet.” His face dissolved into an enormous smile. “And with a little help, you’ll be the luckiest three people in space, too. Only a few people have experienced what you’re going to experience. You’ll be the youngest people to ever leave Earth’s atmosphere. And you’ll be the thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth people to set foot on another celestial body. You’ll be part of cutting-edge, pioneering research. And even more important” — he stretched his arms out wide — “you’ll be part of history.”
Midori looked down at her books. Maybe reading one of them would be enough.
Dr. Lewis continued: “As some of the luckiest people in the world, you also bear a great responsibility. I think you understand this. And I see more than just anticipation in your faces; I also see concern. And I see homesickness. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Because you’ll be going far away, farther than anyone you know has ever gone. You flew a combined total of over eighteen thousand miles to get here.” He looked at the three teenagers. “Your ultimate destination is two hundred thirty-eight thousand miles away. And as you travel there, as you see Earth getting smaller through the windows … I guarantee you this: You’ll miss home. But the things you will experience, the stories you’ll have to tell from a stay of just one hundred seventy-two hours, will take you a lifetime to tell.”
Midori glanced at the other two. She already got, even now, that they were different from her. They were both leaning over, their eyes wide, following the man’s every word. She wondered how this was going to go. What if they were such computer nerds that you couldn’t even really talk to them?
“So, what are we going to do here at Johnson for the next
three months?” Dr. Lewis continued. “Well, we’re going to train. We’re going to teach you everything you need to know — about the equipment, about safety, about the spacecraft you’ll be traveling on and the base you’ll be staying at. Can any of you tell me what a module is?”
The European boy raised his hand.
“Mr. Devereux?”
“Modules are the units that make up the base on the surface of the moon,” he answered in English.
Midori rolled her eyes. Apparently he’d read up on this stuff in advance.
“Correct,” Dr. Lewis responded. “Let me show you.” He signaled to one of the other suits in the room, and seconds later the lights were dimmed and the curtains drawn. Dr. Lewis pressed a button on the laptop in front of him, and a giant flat-screen computer monitor on the wall displayed a diagram of the moon base.
“DARLAH 2 is composed of four modules, located in the region called Mare Tranquillitatis. The Sea of Tranquility. The name is quite old, from a time when people thought the dark areas on the moon were filled with water. Today we know that the dark areas indicate lowlands and that the light gray areas are mountainous regions and higher terrain. We’ve marked the Mare Tranquillitatis landing area for you here.”
Dr. Lewis pressed another button and displayed a picture.
“The reason we chose this specific site is that this is where the very first moon landing took place on July 20, 1969. No one has been there since. It will be your job to find the traces they left behind. Among other things, I can tell you that Buzz Aldrin left his moon boots sitting in the dust there.”
Cool, Midori thought, deciding then and there that she would be the first to get hold of those boots. How cool would that be, to strut around Harajuku in those? She flinched a little. Oh, that’s right. She wasn’t going back there, was she?
Never.
Dr. Lewis presented them with a schedule for the upcoming weeks and then launched into a lecture on the history of the moon and its significance through the ages. Midori tuned out pretty much the whole thing when Dr. Lewis suddenly woke her up by turning on the lights.
“Finally, today I’d like to introduce you to the crew. You’ll have the best available expertise with you on this trip, and they’ll be responsible for everything. They’ll be giving you assignments and orders, but they’ll bear the ultimate responsibility for everything. Don’t forget that. As long as you do what they ask, you’ll have a fabulous trip. I promise you that.”
One by one the crewmembers stepped forward and introduced themselves. Midori did her best to pay attention, but the session had already contained too much information all at once, and soon she had each person mixed up with the next. The only people she had no trouble keeping straight were the other two teenagers. Dr. Lewis called their names and they walked over to him. Antoine, the guy from France, was a very tall, lanky guy with dark hair and a big nose, sort of cute. (Very cute, actually, now that she thought about it.) And then there was Mia from Norway, a head taller than her, with black hair that hung down over her eyes. She was wearing enormous sunglasses and looked like a real goth girl. Not exactly original, but cool anyway, Midori thought. Then she went up, said her name and where she was from, shook hands with the other two and the crew.
“Well, that was it for today,” Dr. Lewis concluded. “Now I assume you’d like to go back and see your families at the visitors’ center. We’ll see you back here at nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”
Midori stood up, grabbed her bag, and started toward the exit. By the door she picked up an information sheet with the names of everyone who would be going. Could be good to have, she thought. At least until I can tell everyone apart. If I ever can.
ALONE
Mia squinted as she exited the building after the first class. Trucks and forklifts passed by her, and she could hear them grinding away in the hangars nearby. Johnson Space Center consisted of more than a hundred buildings arranged in an area large enough to house a small city. Even the practically empty parking lot in front of her would impress just about anyone with its vast size. That made her realize for the first time how expansive the field of space travel research had been and what a mind-boggling amount of money must have been involved.
Just then, one of the crewmembers she had just met walked out onto the steps. Mia couldn’t remember her name, but luckily the woman held out her hand.
“Caitlin,” she said.
“Mia.”
“Nice to meet you, Mia. Where are you going?”
She wasn’t sure. “I suppose I ought to get back to my parents,” Mia replied. “But I’m not exactly sure where.”
“I’m sure they’re at the visitors’ center. You want a ride?”
“You have a car?”
Caitlin blinked at her. “Um, yeah, of course I have a car. Who wants to go by foot when we’re covering distances like this? Come on, let’s go.”
Mia followed her down the steps and around the corner to where her VW was parked. It turned out to be a rusty wreck of a car. Which actually was in keeping with Caitlin’s style. There really wasn’t anything about her that looked like an astronaut. She was younger than the rest, tall and thin, wearing worn jeans tucked well down into her boots. She had a faded T-shirt underneath a leather jacket that was cool enough that Mia wanted to ask her where she’d bought it. But she didn’t.
“I can’t get the door open,” Mia said, a little embarrassed after lifting the door handle several times.
“Try giving it a kick.”
Mia hesitated. “What do you mean?”
Caitlin came around to Mia’s side and slammed her boot into the door. It opened. “Like that.”
Mia sat down on the passenger’s side and did her best to make some room for her legs among the huge heap of music magazines that had been tossed onto the floor.
“Just shove them aside, doesn’t matter if you step on them. I’ve already read them anyway. Do you mind if I smoke?” Caitlin asked. Mia didn’t have a chance to respond before Caitlin lit a cigarette and started the car. Seconds later she’d backed out of the parking space and was speeding along toward the visitors’ center. A simple but very distinctive bass line poured out of the speakers, and Mia recognized the music right away.
“You listen to them?” Mia asked, surprised.
“You like the Talking Heads?”
“They’re great,” Mia said.
“‘Psycho Killer,’” Caitlin said, singing along with the chorus. “Don’t you just love when he does that? It’s my favorite track.”
Mia nodded and wondered if she should mention that she was in a band, too. But she decided to do that later. There’d be plenty of time once they were on the moon.
“So, should we see how fast we can get this old beater to go? I’m guessing seventy. What do you think?” Caitlin asked.
“No chance,” Mia said.
“Good answer.” Caitlin laughed loudly as she changed gears and floored it. The car shook as they raced across the asphalt toward the visitors’ center. Mia was sure it would explode at any minute.
“Don’t panic!” Caitlin yelled over the roar of the engine. “It can take it. Besides, this is nothing. Wait until you’re sitting in the tip of the launch rocket — that’s real shaking!”
Five seconds passed, four, three, two, one, and then Caitlin slammed on the brakes. The tires screamed as she turned the car into a parking space close to the entrance.
“There. Seventy-two miles per hour. Not bad for an old lady, huh?”
“You don’t look old,” Mia said quickly.
“I meant the car,” Caitlin said with a smile. “But thanks anyway.”
Caitlin had another errand to run nearby, so she said good-bye to Mia, pointing out the door to the visitors’ center before disappearing in the opposite direction. Mia walked up the steps and into the spacious lobby. There were quite a few people inside, but Mia didn’t see her own parents anywhere. She walked around the center a few times without finding them before she
gave up and found one of the guards. He made a couple of phone calls but wasn’t able to find anything out. After a while Mia decided to go back to the crew hotel and wait for them there. The guard made another call, this time for a driver, who picked her up in front of the entrance a couple minutes later.
The crew hotel wasn’t actually a hotel. It was a large square building in the middle of the enormous base where they were all going to live for the next few weeks. It wasn’t far to the hangars where they would be conducting the rest of their training and preparations. She knew that Sander and her parents were staying at a civilian hotel about a mile or so off base, and she could have gone there, too. But she figured they’d turn up pretty soon anyway.
Mia was given a key at the front desk and told that her luggage was already up in her room on the third floor. There was a letter for her, too.
A letter?
She assumed Sander must have written her another letter. He often did the same things over and over again once he’d mastered something. She still hadn’t read his first letter.
“Here you go,” the receptionist said, and handed her an envelope. Mia opened the letter right there, and read it standing by the front desk.
But it wasn’t from Sander.
It was from her mom.
Mia folded the letter back up and stuffed it firmly into her back pocket. Jeez, she thought.
“Bad news?” the receptionist asked gently.
She looked him in the eye. “No, it’s actually good. It’s just unexpected.”
Mia left the lobby and proceeded to look for her room. Her first reaction had been sadness. She felt abandoned. But at the same time she couldn’t help feeling a sense of relief. And then happiness. A freedom her parents had indulged her with. It didn’t get any better than that.
She found her room and let herself in, and soon the Talking Heads were blasting through her headphones as she lay comfortably on her new bed.
Dear Mia,
When we were standing at the top of the Statue of Liberty in New York that day, it suddenly hit me that you’re not nine years old anymore. I don’t know why I happened to think of it right then. Maybe it had something to do with where we were. At any rate, it hit me that maybe we haven’t given you enough liberty, enough space lately. That might sound strange, but to a mother a child is never grown up. She’s always your child, and maybe I’ve been thinking of you and Sander too similarly, and treating you too much the same. But you’re not nine years old, like him, you’re sixteen now and even though that doesn’t mean you’re an adult, you’re still setting out on a journey that is really much more adult than anything your father and I have ever done. I know that this lottery wasn’t your dream, and that it still isn’t. I know that you’d rather be home in Stavanger with your band and that it cost you a lot to make the decision you did. But I still think this was the right choice, and that you will never regret it. It will change your life.
172 Hours on the Moon Page 9
