SuperMoon

by H. A. Swain

  I lean over to my brother. “Where’s Micra?” I tease.

  He cuts his eyes toward me and scowls. “I don’t have a thing for her,” he insists.

  “Yes, you do,” I prod. “Admit it.”

  He shakes his head, but I know I’m right. I’ve seen the way he seeks her out just to argue with her and how she lingers whenever he’s around. It’s enough to make me barf if it didn’t make him so weirdly happy.

  I glance past Castor to Aurelia, who blinks blue-lit eyes as she takes in the new experience. Burnell Chen-Ning sits on the other side of her. He was thrilled to get his hands on her and has taken a shine to Castor, who spends most of his days in Burnell’s AI lab helping to rewrite Aurelia’s code.

  Dr. Fornax clears her throat. She stands tall and proud, her shock of silver hair perfectly coifed into a swirled wave on top of her head. She’s even more imposing in person than she was as a hologram, but I’ve come to greatly respect her. As soon as she landed on MUSC with Micra, she zipped herself into a special ventilation suit to be protected from the phage, then set to work, double and triple checking Uma’s calculations for enzymatic counterphage spray that would stop the bacterial infection from spreading, then she helped refine the neural web patch code Castor wrote to reboot the MUSC cybermind. We all worked around the clock for seventy-two hours, Randazza feeding us and taking care of the youngest MUSCies while Persis, Uma, Castor, Micra, Dr. Fornax, and I applied the antidote, rebooted the system, then walked the halls and checked the rooms until we accounted for every single person. Miraculously, everyone survived.

  Down below, I see Kepler elbow Uma. As usual, they are side by side. Her shoulders shimmy, and I can tell she’s suppressing a laugh. I could almost be jealous of their friendship if Kepler weren’t so nice. He came back from his Sol trip early to help out once it was safe. When he first saw Uma, he hugged her so tight, I thought that he might squish her.

  Dr. Fornax shifts and clears her throat again. Every person in the auditorium waits silently for her to speak. The air is thick with expectation. This is the first big gathering since the Incident, which is what they call their near demise, in classic MUSC understatement. As if almost being taken over by a disgruntled former MUSCie were a minor thing. A blip in their history. A dot on the time line of their inevitable universal dominion. As much as I appreciate the calmness and logical nature of MUSC, their lack of emotional resonance makes me crazy half the time. I want to jump up and wave my arms and shout, You all almost died! But of course, I don’t. I’m a guest here and grateful for it.

  “Thank you for joining me for the fifty-fourth annual awarding of Life’s Work Assignments to a cohort of MUSC progeny,” Dr. Fornax finally says. “This year marks a particularly momentous time in our history, and it is with profound gratitude and deep humility that I stand before you to celebrate the newest members of our work community.”

  The crowd shifts and murmurs. I glance at Persis, who looks at me with eyebrows up. She leans over and whispers, “Gratitude and humility are not words I’ve ever heard her speak.”

  “We have been through a harrowing time,” Dr. Fornax says. “And once again, science has seen us through. We have survived because there is no alternative. Survival is in our name. It is in our nature. It is in our very DNA.”

  I clutch the arms of my seat. Persis and Castor sit up taller on either side of me. Even Uma stiffens in her seat and looks back to find us. We lock eyes and wait for Fornax to acknowledge what our small group of Earthlings did to save the Colony.

  But she doesn’t.

  Those few sentences are all she has to say about the Incident. Uma and I look at each other and shake our heads. Persis slumps beside me, and Castor bristles as Dr. Fornax moves on.

  “Our ancestors came here nearly a century ago seeking solace from an increasingly chaotic, war-torn Earth,” Fornax says. “A place where science and logic were being replaced by dogmatic adherence to a misrepresentation of the past. A place where humans fought for dwindling resources rather than delving into discovery and innovation. A place for the few with little left for the many. And I’m sad to say, little has changed down there, which is why our survival and continuation of the species are imperative for the future of humanity.”

  The crowd erupts into controlled applause, but I can’t join in. The whole thing feels like a giant pat on the back for themselves with no regard for how close they came to losing it all.

  “And with that,” Dr. Fornax says, “I give you the Life Work Assignments for Cohort 54.”

  Annoyed and frustrated, I zone out as Fornax calls each cohort member in alphabetical order onto the stage to announce a work assignment while the crowd politely applauds. Instead, I daydream about the things I miss most on Earth—strawberries my mother grows, fluffy clouds that look like whales, squirrels spiraling up a tree, date palms swaying in a breeze, the smell of sage, mud between my toes, my mother’s hugs most of all. I don’t yet know when I’ll experience any of those things again, but I’m determined to go back. Being cooped up on the station is taking a toll on me. Sometimes I stand at the windows, gazing out at the universe spinning beyond, and I think of jumping.

  “Kepler Jackson,” Dr. Fornax says, which pops me out of my reverie. I watch him lope onto the stage, his lanky limbs loose and lithe, with a goofy grin on his face. The applause feel warmer somehow when he’s up there. Nobody could dislike Kepler. Fornax shakes his hand and announces, “Following in his mother’s most capable footsteps, Kepler will join our immunology team to work specifically on foodborne bacterial outbreaks.”

  The polite applause dwindles as Kepler makes his way back to his seat next to Uma. I sit up tall, and Persis takes my hand. We wait, each trying not to squirm with excitement, or is it dread, to find out what Uma’s LWA will be. Uma has fretted for two weeks about her assignment, and Fornax has kept a steely silence. Uma oscillates from being certain she’ll end up a miner like her mom as punishment for leaving MUSC to thinking she’ll get something reasonable, like an immunology placement with Kepler for coming back and helping to save the colony. I think she should get whatever she wants, but then again, I’m in love with her.

  I watch Uma sit up taller, then hunch her shoulders with anticipation. My heart beats in my throat. Fornax opens her mouth and calls, “Fermi Kaku.”

  Persis and I look at each other and wait a beat for Dr. Fornax to correct herself. Persis squeezes my hand until it hurts, but Dr. Fornax doesn’t backtrack as the girl on the other side of Uma marches onto the stage and receives her assignment.

  “What the hell?” I whisper to Persis. “She skipped Uma!” I hiss.

  Down below, Uma sits stunned. Then I see her slump and slump some more. Kepler reaches out and puts his hand on her knee to comfort her.

  “This kind of things happens sometimes.” Persis loosens her grip on my hand, and her face goes slack. “She gets overlooked, but eventually…”

  “Eventually?” I whisper fiercely. “That’s not good enough! I’m saying something!” I start to stand up, but both Persis and Castor grab my arms and yank me back down into my seat.

  “Just wait,” says Castor. “Maybe—”

  “Maybe nothing,” I snarl as the next member of the cohort is called forward. “This is bull—”

  “Talitha, please,” Persis begs. “If you make a scene, Uma will be mortified. I’m telling you, it’ll be worse if you do. Just…” She looks at me, heartbroken once again but resolved to make the best of it as she always has, being an Earthling on MUSC. “Just let it go.”

  Let it go! I can’t believe what I’m hearing or that we’re all accepting this treatment without sticking up for Uma. Persis, Castor, Kepler, every one of the jerks on MUSC who owe their lives to her! We’re all sitting idly by as each and every other member of her cohort marches across that stage.

  Castor keeps his hand on my arm, anchoring me to the seat, but I vow to take Uma away from this place. First chance we get, we’re out of here, I promise myself. Even if
we have to hijack a damn Shuttle. Earth could be on fire or in the middle of a nuclear war, but if this is the way someone like Uma is treated up here, I’d rather live in a bunker down there. I plan my revenge and our escape through the rest of the assignment announcements, and I don’t hear a thing because I’m so angry.

  The only thing that brings me out of my internal rage is the silence that pervades the hall after the last person in Cohort 54, Tesla Volta, sits down. Then Fornax turns to face the crowd and takes an audible deep breath.

  “I had to think long and hard about the last assignment that will be given today,” she says.

  Persis gulps beside me. Castor lets go of my arm but grabs my hand. Uma slides down so low, I can barely see her head above the back of her seat.

  I lean over to Castor and whisper through gritted teeth, “I swear to the stars above, if she doesn’t call Uma’s name and give her something good, I will torch this goddamned place.”

  He leans over to me and says, “I’ll light the match for you.”

  “At MUSC, we pride ourselves on our ingenuity, our creativity, our problem-solving skills, and our ability to turn good minds into great thinkers,” Dr. Fornax says. “We do this through rigorous education and socialization from the moment each child comes to us. And for that we have been greatly rewarded. We have the best technology in the universe. The best quality of life possible. And we’re expanding. Three new stations are being built on the Moon even as we inch closer to fulfilling our quest for colonizing Mars. But…”

  She stops. Swallows hard and takes another deep breath. “The truth is, it’s not enough to be sophisticated thinkers. The real test of intelligence is how well we use our minds. Great thinkers don’t always follow traditional paths. They question authority when necessary. Take risks, even if that might mean personal harm. And they look for answers in unexpected places. Our last recipient has distinguished herself as a maverick in our midst,” Fornax says.

  Persis sits up ramrod straight. Castor grips my fingers until they turn white.

  “She is the most innovative, creative, loyal problem solver in her cohort, and we all owe her a debt of gratitude that we cannot possibly repay. Please join me in welcoming Uma Jemison to the stage.”

  Uma is slow to get to her feet, as if she can’t quite believe her name has been called. Kepler practically drags her into the aisle, where she walks on shaking legs. Persis has gone slack beside me, but I can’t hold it in any longer. As soon as Uma’s foot hits the stage, I jump to my feet, waving my arms in the air and cheering out loud like I’m at a GladiatorBot Smackdown. Castor joins me on his feet. We hoot and holler our approval like the true guttersnipes we are, showing our Earthly colors, and we couldn’t care less. Let the MUSCies sit politely. My brother and I are bringing down the roof on this place.

  Persis joins us, then Randazza, then Kepler. Curie stands up and claps her hands above her head as she whistles between her teeth. Burnell Chen-Ning stands and cheers. Aurelia follows. Soon half the kids in Cohort 54 are on their feet. Then the parents start to rise. Until finally, every person in the auditorium is standing and cheering for Uma, who can’t seem to believe what’s happening.

  Fornax motions for everyone to quiet down. The cheering stops, but everyone remains standing, some people still murmuring to the others around them, talking about how they woke up and discovered that this girl and her Earthling friends were the ones who saved them all.

  “As I said,” Dr. Fornax goes on, “I had to think long and hard about the right assignment for Uma.” A genuine hush falls over the crowd. “She has many talents. She is a gifted immunologist, a top-notch problem solver, and at the top of her class in botany, but perhaps her most distinguishing characteristic is empathy. This is a trait she brings with her, not something we have instilled, because to be sure, MUSC could infuse more of her type of compassion into our curriculum, and we will.”

  The crowd mumbles uncertainly at this statement, but Fornax doesn’t let that throw her off. She keeps going, plowing on with supreme confidence in what she’s saying.

  “Uma also brings a true love of Earth with her. She is the finest scholarship student we’ve had the honor to accept into our program, but more than that, she has shown me that there are many others like her on Earth. We pride ourselves in using resources well, but we’ve neglected one of the most fundamental resources in the universe.”

  She pauses as we consider what she means, then she says, “Humanity.”

  Dr. Fornax turns to face Uma. She towers over her but somehow looks small as she reaches out to lay a hand on Uma’s shoulder.

  “For your LWA, I am creating a new program called MESC—the first Moon to Earth Survival Colony and soldier rehabilitation center down below. This will be a sanctuary for any Earthling, regardless of background, who requires assistance following the devastation of war. There, you will continue the important work of applying brain-to-brain interface technology to retrain soldiers with catastrophic injuries so they can rejoin their families as productive members of society. And if we’re lucky, and I know we will be, we will find individuals with good minds that we can foster into great thinkers like you.”

  Uma is so flabbergasted that she covers her mouth with both hands.

  “And in order to facilitate that,” Dr. Fornax says, “I have commissioned this.” She points to the center of the stage, where a hologram of a small shuttle is projected. “This six-seat Shuttle will be at your disposal. You may travel to and from Earth as you wish to oversee the program.”

  Uma covers her eyes. Her shoulders shake. Castor and I wrap our arms around each other, both too stunned to speak. Beside me, Persis fights to keep her composure. Around us, the crowd erupts into wild applause. And most unbelievable of all, Dr. Fornax wipes away a single tear that has trailed down her cheek as she steps forward and pulls Uma into a deep, long hug. Over the cheering, we hear the final words Dr. Fornax says, “I’m proud of you, Uma Jemison. So incredibly proud of you!”

  TIME STAMP

  MOON

  DAY 1, MONTH 11, MUSC YEAR 94

  EARTH

  NOVEMBER 6, 2XXX

  UMA JEMISON

  MESC SHUTTLE

  “READY?” TALITHA ASKS, and squeezes my hand.

  I sit beside her, strapped into the sleek new six-seater Shuttle Dr. Fornax commissioned for our team to commute to MESC—the new Moon to Earth Survival Colony. The past five months have been nonstop preparation for this moment. We assembled the team, oversaw reconstruction of the ExploroBot Creation Center, sent down equipment for our labs, and set up a system to identify Earthlings we can help, but still, I’m not sure I’m ready for this moment. There’s so much left to do. So many loose ends. So many unknowns. So much what-iffing that goes on in my mind.

  I look over my shoulder. Burnell Chen-Ning, the mentor I chose for this project, sits behind us with his son Gemini, who is also on the team. Burnell is the best AI engineer on MUSC and has a true love of Earth, so he was a no-brainer to join us. I can’t deny that Gemini’s understanding of BBI tech is the best in my cohort, and honestly, once I gave him a chance, Kep was right, Gemini is a decent guy. He still gets on my nerves, but he can be entertaining, and he’s undeniably good at what he does, so he’s with us, too.

  In the third row, Aurelia sits beside Castor. They are coming down for this initial visit to help us set up the lab in the newly reconstructed facility and to visit Rhea.

  “Yes, Mom,” Castor says. He sees me looking at him and rolls his eyes. “We’ll call you as soon as we land. I know, Mom. But we’re going to be busy. We’re coming there to set up the lab. Of course we’ll make time for you. Yes, Quasar is fine. Remember, he survived the ride up here … Yes. He’s right here beside me. Do you want to see him?”

  Castor leans over so he can send Rhea an image of Quasar patiently panting from his specially constructed crate anchored to the floor. Almost everyone on MUSC is sad to see Quasar go. He’s become the unofficial MUSC mascot, trotting freely aro
und the facilities, greeting everyone he meets, and being spoiled rotten by Randazza, who cooks full meals for him every day.

  “Don’t you think having Quasar around brought out more empathy and compassion in the MUSCies?” I ask Talitha.

  “Definitely,” she says. “I’ve never seen them act so goofy as when he runs up. They totally drop their guards!”

  “Maybe we should start an Earth-to-Moon dog rescue,” I joke. “Our motto could be Science might see us through, but having a dog by your side makes everything better.”

  “Fornax would love that. First soldiers, now dogs? She’d lose her mind.” Talitha chuckles at the idea, then she says, “But even if she’d go for it, it wouldn’t be fair to the dogs. I mean, I can barely take being cooped up in the station all the time. Imagine what poor Quasar feels. I can’t wait for fresh air and warm sunshine and the smell of plants and clouds overhead and—”

  “I know just how you feel,” I assure her, and pat her hand. Life on MUSC is hardest on Talitha. She’s a caged animal up here. Like Rhea, she is deeply connected to the Earth and has become increasingly unhappy without the natural rhythms of our ancestral planet.

  I look past Talitha, out the window at the crowd gathering in the loading bay to see us off. My mom, Gemini’s mother, Kepler, and Micra stand in a row.

  “Do you think your mom will ever come down with us?” Talitha asks.

  I shrug. “I hope she will, but I don’t know. I’ve asked her a million times to join our team. I think she’d be great at developing tech-enabled prostheses for injured soldiers, but she always says, No, when I left Earth the first time, it was forever.”

  “I can understand that,” Talitha says. “Maybe it’s too painful for her to go back without your father. And maybe she wants to stay close to the last place he was alive. Like for me, sometimes it’s comforting to be up here, where I know my father died.”