Moongazer

by Mari Mancusi

  "I'll take the ravioli," I say, relieved the options aren't cow brains or monkey livers. I glance over at Duske, who nods his approval. The waiter bows once again before retreating to presumably fill our orders. Duske watches him go. "Don't mind him," he says. "Brother Claude spent too much time on the surface during the early years. It's a shame to see a mind go to mush like that." He shakes his head. "In any case, what was I saying? Oh yes, how lovely it must be to live on Earth."

  I shrug, not sure how to respond. "Yeah, I mean ... I like it, of course. Not that I have much to compare it to, obviously."

  "We on Terra are quite envious of all the opportunities your world affords. There are people here who would give their right arms to live on Earth." He strokes his chin with his forefinger and thumb. "Come to think of it," he adds, "I believe some have."

  I start to laugh until I catch his expression. Is he for real?

  "Perhaps, Skye, you would like a little history lesson of our humble world?" Duske asks.

  I lean forward eagerly. "I'd like that." Good. Now maybe I'll get some answers.

  "Once upon a time," Duske says with a grin. "Isn't that how you Earth people like to begin your stories? Once upon a time there was a great land and a great people who lived like normal human beings on the surface of their planet. But they did not take care of their world. Nor did they take care of each other. Instead, they fought over petty lands until the world was split in two. There was a great war and a great bomb that poisoned the land and sent everyone underground. At first it was total anarchy. Governments were ripped apart, people scrambling just to survive."

  I stare at him, digesting the information. Hard to believe, even with the close calls we've had on Earth, that it could actually happen. That two warring countries could really go that far-pressing the red buttons and sparking a raging apocalypse.

  "How long ago was this?" I ask.

  "Nearly a hundred years," Duske replies solemnly. "And still the world is uninhabitable above. Of course, now we have elaborate cities below the surface and there's no one left who even remembers living under the open sky."

  "That's so sad," I say, trying to imagine a life completely underground. No wonder everyone wants to go Moongazing. The finest shops and restaurants in the world can't replace a day at the beach or a walk in the park.

  "Indeed. But the alternative is far worse. The total annihilation of the human race."

  "Good point," I agree. "So, how did you all end up here underground?"

  "It's all thanks to the Circle of Eight," Duske explains, "the forefathers of our current Senate Circle, of which I am lucky enough to have been born a member. The original group was founded about a hundred years before the Great War. At the time, our country's government was corrupt and chaotic. A democracy in name, it was really a totalitarian regime, controlled and manipulated by the rich, powerful, and greedy. This government felt it was perfectly within its rights to invade other countries and force their sham of democracy on them in order to covertly steal their resources. The Circle of Eight formed secretly during that time, knowing that the end result of this behavior could only lead to apocalypse once the smaller countries upgraded their nuclear technology and decided to fight back."

  I suppress a shudder. This all sounds scarily parallel to my own world.

  "So, using their foresight, they bought up large quantities of useless desert and constructed secret underground cities like Luna Park, cave by cave. By the time the war inevitably hit, they were ready and able to welcome the refugees below. They took in people from around the world to try to preserve as many ethnicities as possible."

  I think back to the Asian proprietor at Moongazer Station, and the wide variety of people wandering around Luna Park. They'd definitely done a good job preserving diversity. Pretty cool.

  A scantily clad waitress chooses that moment to interrupt Duske's tale, approaching the table with an open bottle of vodka. She giggles, batting her eyelashes at Duske as she pours. He winks at her and reaches over to grab her ass under her short skirt. Her face falls and she scrambles away, red-faced. Duske watches her go, a smarmy grin on his face, his eyes glued to her bottom. Yuck. Great and glorious government leader or not, he's still a perv.

  "Go on," I say, wanting to get back to the story.

  "So, the Circle of Eight saved the people. You'd think the people would be grateful. Sadly, this has not proved to be the case. While some of the people acclimated quickly to their new world-finding jobs, buying homes, raising families-others became depressed and angry, refusing to work to better their society They began preaching that it was the government's fault that they were poor and helpless. They wanted handouts-and didn't think they should have to work for their bread. They began to convince people that the great and glorious government who'd saved them was actually brutally exploiting and controlling them." Duske shakes his head, a disgusted scowl on his face. "In reality, of course, nothing could be further from the truth."

  I'm so fascinated by his tale I scarcely notice that the waiter has returned with our food. He pulls the silver cover off my plate, revealing multicolored ravioli that smells of cinnamon. He places a similar plate in front of Duske, then passes him a small black handheld machine. Duske presses his thumb against the sensor and the machine beeps and flashes green. Evidently it's some high tech payment option, just like the locks on the doors. Thumbs sure are useful in Terra. I wonder if I have any credit on mine....

  "My apologies for the dinner," Duske says, picking up a pair of chopsticks. "I know on Earth you dine mostly on meat and fowl. Here in Terra we have very limited access to animals. The war eliminated most species altogether, and the ones that were saved and brought underground proved sterile. We've been working in labs to clone what we have to increase the population, but the clones are not able to reproduce either. So, every animal is precious and protected."

  I try to imagine a world without animals. No dogs to greet you with snouty noses and slobbery tongues. No cats to rub up against your leg with a purr.

  "Well, don't worry about the meat thing," I say. "I'm a vegetarian anyway."

  "Of course you are, my dear," Duske says with an odd smile. And I trust you will enjoy this meal."

  I take a bite, savoring the smooth creamy taste and herb kick. "It's delicious," I say, surprised and delighted. "In fact, it tastes just like the kind they serve up at ArtePasta in the Village." I laugh. "Like, exactly. So strange." I take another bite.

  "Perhaps Earth and Terra aren't so different after all." Duske comments, taking his own bite.

  "Well, I definitely agree with you there. In fact, it's crazy," I remark, wondering what answers he is going to provide me. "I mean, we speak the same language. Share the same pop culture. You even have a Starbucks, for goodness' sake."

  "Indeed," Duske says. He refills his tumbler and downs the shot. "Which is why we felt your Earth is such a good fit for our people."

  "A good fit? What do you mean?"

  Duske takes another bite, chews, then swallows. "Terra, as much as we've tried to make it a self-sustaining, viable world, is overcrowded. It has huge shortcomings. We can't make enough food. We can't breed animals. We're lost a great deal of aesthetic beauty because of limited access to trees. There are some surface logging companies that risk the radiation to supply us with wood, but there's never enough."

  "Okay ..."

  "So, a few years ago, the government came up with a plan to export our people to a more inhabitable world-a world that can support them and give them a comfortable and familiar lifestyle. Even better, it's a life aboveground, where they can dance under the moonlight each and every night without worrying about becoming sick."

  He sounds like one of the advertisements. "You mean Moongazing," I conclude.

  Duske nods. "Well, the technical term is inter-dimensional relocation. We decided to brand it Moongazing. More commercially appealing, we feel. Gives it an aesthetic beauty, don't you agree?"

  "I see," I say. "And you're able
to do it? You can send people from here to Earth? It's technically possible?"

  Should I just come right out and ask him if he'll send me back? Or do I need to schmooze a bit more first? "Of course," Duske replies.

  "Is it. .." I remember Dawn's story about Mariah. "Is it ... addictive?"

  He laughs. "Not at all," he says. "It's quite safe. We did a great deal of research and testing before we introduced it to the public." He pauses, then asks, "What did the Eclipsers say about it?"

  "Oh God." I lean back in my chair and sigh. "They think I'm some girl named Mariah who's been Moongazing and doing drugs or something. This guy Dawn told me that my 'Gazing has destroyed all my memories and that's why I think I'm Skye and not Mariah."

  Dawn laughs, long and hard, shaking his head and patting his belly. "They are just too much," he says. "How did you ever keep a straight face when he was spouting off this nonsense?"

  I shrug. "I was more freaked out than amused, honestly. I mean, I don't even know where the hell I am or how I got here, never mind who this Mariah chick is. I just know she's not me."

  "Mariah Quinn's the daughter of Sister Estelle, a retired member of our Senate and Circle of Eight. She was in training to join our ranks and become a member of the Senate until she got ... distracted."

  "Distracted?"

  Duske rolls his eyes. "She started socializing with the wrong crowd, a group of rebellious and bored Indys who like to cause trouble. They brainwashed her into thinking that The Circle was somehow the enemy, and so she abandoned her training and moved down to

  Stratum Two to start up some silly group she called The Eclipsers with her little Indy rebel friends."

  I lean forward, fascinated. And here I had assumed Mariah was just another one of the Dark Siders, unhappy with her lot in life. But she was of royal blood, in a sense. One of the of Illustrious Eight. I wonder what led her to make that choice-to give up all she'd been born to inherit, trade her life of luxury for the poverty down below. You gotta kind of admire a girl for that.

  "So, what happened to her?"

  Dawn shrugs. "She played her little revolution thing for a time, but then got bored with it all. She started Moongazing and realized that making a new life on Earth was a lot more fun than fighting some silly and unhelpful rebellion here on Terra. And so, in the end, she decided to purchase a permanent migration package. Last I heard she's living quite happily on Earth."

  "But the Eclipsers couldn't accept her disappearance," I conclude, wondering how much of Duske's story is true. Had she really just got bored? Or, like Dawn suggested, did she become an addict, unable to help herself?

  "Right," Duske says. "Poor bastards. They've been searching for her on Earth ever since, trying to get her to come home and continue leading their impotent revolution. It was damn lucky I rescued you before they could poison your mind."

  "Yeah, definitely," I say, absently. Something about this whole explanation still troubles me, though I can't put my finger on what it is.

  "You look a hell of a lot like Mariah," Duske explains. "Which is probably why they think you're her. I can actually see similar mannerisms in you, too. But trust me, Skye Brown. You are from Earth."

  I nod. Right; of course, he's right. It only makes sense. Dawn, Glenda, the Eclipsers. They made a mistake. A simple mistake. Dawn even admitted he didn't know exactly what was going on.

  "So now what?" I ask. "How do I get back to Earth?" Under the table I cross my fingers, my mind begging any higher power who might be listening to offer up a simple way for me to return home.

  "Easy," Duske says. "You use one of my private 'Gazing booths at the house. A whiff of your asthma medication and the press of a button and poof--You're back on Earth."

  I scrunch my face up in suspicion. "Why my asthma medication?" I ask, remembering Dawn denouncing the stuff. What was the correction?

  Duske shrugs. "Sometimes the journey can be rough. I'd want to make sure you don't have an attack en route."

  Something feels odd about his manner, but I'm afraid questioning him too much might cause him to revoke his invitation. "Okay. Whatever it takes," I say, setting down my chopsticks. "I just want to get home as soon as possible."

  Duske smiles indulgently. "Of course," he says. "And you will go back soon enough. But first, I wonder if I might ask you a favor."

  "Uh, sure. I think," I say, trying to ignore a gnawing worry at what that request could possibly be.

  "You think of Terra much the way Terrans think of Earth. You're here, living, breathing, and experiencing, but I can tell that you don't quite believe this is all real," he says. "Well, imagine the Terrans. They've never seen Earth, and so many are afraid. Afraid of the unknown. Afraid of what might happen if they Moongaze. Their fear is holding them back, trapping them here on our dead world when they could be living real lives on Earth."

  "Oh-kay. So what does that have to do with me?" I ask.

  "In a way, the Eclipsers did me a tremendous favor by bringing you here. You're the first Earth person to ever set foot in Terra. It's almost like you're an ambassador of your world. What I humbly ask of you is that you continue in that role awhile longer. I'm holding a Moongazing seminar this weekend. In the meantime, I'd like you to go back to Earth and take photos of your world. Anything you think will make it seem more real to the Terrans. Animals, sunshine, grass, trees. All the things you take for granted. Photograph them and return to Terra and speak to my people at the convention. Tell them what Earth is really like."

  "You want me to take photos? And then come back?" I stare at him, incredulous.

  "Yes." He nods. "Together you and I can prove to the people of my world that Moongazing is not just some field trip from reality, but a doorway to a new and better existence." He says the last part so grandly that I assume it's part of his sales pitch. Is he profiting off this? Is he an alternate-reality travel agent, if you will?

  "Why can't you just get the photos yourself?" I ask. "I've seen the TV commercials. Obviously you have stock footage of the place. Why would you need me?"

  He sighs. "I could take pictures, yes, but the people need to see them from an objective source. I need someone who's actually from Earth. You can go beyond the facts. Explain what it's really like to live there. Not as a tour guide, as I would be, but as a citizen of that brave new world. You would be Earth's first ambassador to Terra."

  "I do see what you're saying," I begin cautiously. "But to tell you the truth, I'm really swamped these days. My video game is launching soon and we've still got a lot of bugs to work out. I mean, don't get me wrong-I'd love to help you out. But I really think you'd do much better finding another girl." I cross my fingers, hoping he'll buy my admittedly lame excuse. But what else can I say-once I get back to Earth, no way in hell I'm coming back to this godforsaken place?

  Duske's handsome face darkens, his mouth twisting into an unpleasant scowl. "Listen to me carefully," he says in a slow, tight voice. Gone is the honey-sweet sales pitch. "I need those photos. And I need you to get them for me. There is no one else."

  "But-"

  "If you do not get me my photos within two days, though I am a very busy man I will make the time to yank you back to Terra myself. And trust me, it will not be to take you to dinner."

  My pulse kicks up a few notches. A moment ago he seemed so debonair. I can't believe he's threatening me. But what can I do? I'm totally under his power here. If I refuse, he might not send me back to Earth. I'll be stuck here forever. And if I try to trick him, get back to Earth and hope we don't cross paths-well, that seems a risky move as well.

  My throat closes up and I wheeze, trying to take a breath. I reach into my pocket for my inhaler. I can feel Duske's pleased eyes on me as I put it to my mouth and take a puff. I pull the inhaler away, disturbed by his reaction, remembering Glenda's warning, Dawn's warning.

  "Are you ready to go back to Earth?" Duske asks, his voice back to its pleasant self.

  I should be. I should be more than ready. So why am I s
uddenly hesitant? Worried?

  "Um, yes, I guess I am," I say, shaking the doubt away. Do I really want to be here another moment? No, of course not. I want to go home and forget all of this ever happened.

  Duske rises from his seat and I follow him out of the restaurant. As we walk down the dimly lit path and to the awaiting car, a man suddenly jumps out from behind a rock sculpture, blocking our path. His eyes are rimmed in black bruises and his mouth's hanging open sideways. He looks utterly insane.

  "Don't look into the moon!" he cries, waving a placard on a stick. "It'll destroy your life-your very soul!"

  Startled, I take a step back, not sure what he's going to do next. My eyes lift to the placard. MOONGAZING FTL it reads. I know that in geek speak (at least back on Earth) that acronym stands for "For the Loss"-a videogame term that stood for something bad, terrible, and shouldn't be touched with a ten foot pole.

  Nervous, I glance over at Duske. He's talking into some kind of communization device strapped to his wrist. Obviously he's summoning the cavalry.

  "I'm not crazy," the man continues, grabbing my hand and staring at me beseechingly. "I'm an Indy, just like you. I had a job, a family, a life. Moongazing stole it

  all from me. Put me in a game I could not win. I barely made it out alive. Whatever you do, don't look into the moon!"

  Before I can react, three silver-clad soldiers appear, dragging the man backwards. He screams in rage, trying to fight, but they quickly overpower him, stunning him with some kind of crimson-beamed taser.

  Like the one in your dream, an inner voice reminds me. I shudder.

  "Sorry about that," Duske says, putting an arm around my waist and leading me down the path. "As you can see, like any new program, we have our detractors."

  I realize I'm still trembling from the encounter. I glance back at the man. He's now spread-eagle on the ground, sobbing hysterically. Could what he said have any truth to it? Was he a victim of Moongazing just like Mariah was?

  And if so, was what I was about to do-go Moongazing myself? Was that a good idea?