Luke Marusiak: Lifeboat Moon

“It’s good to see you too Doctor Zeke.” Mark released his hand.

“There’s no need for the title. Call me Zeke.”

Mark laughed and wondered if they’d ever tire of their formality ritual. “Did you hear what happened when I went out to the oxygen reactor?”

Zeke removed his reading glasses. “No.”

“I ran out of air. Chuck changed the gauge offset so I didn’t know how much I had.”

“Why would he do that?”

“He thinks we’re doomed.”

“We may be.”

Mark looked at this friend. Zeke was only two years older than Mark but he exuded deep wisdom. “Tell me Zeke. Tell me what really happened to earth.”

“You know what happened.”

“No. I never wanted to face it.” Mark sighed. “I saw that orange earthrise again… I have to know.”

Zeke nodded, turned, and swung down a whiteboard from its ceiling mount. He looked at the equations scribbled on it, laughed, and erased them. He drew a circle in the bottom right corner. “This is earth.” He drew a smaller circle nearby. “This is the moon, our new home.”

“A barren place for our new home,” Mark said.

Zeke drew a dot on the top left corner of the whiteboard. “This is where Wolf-Rayet Star 104 — WR 104, in the Sagittarius constellation, collapsed into a supernova.” He drew two beams coming out, one in line with earth.

“What are the odds?”

“Very low, it only happens in the Milky Way Galaxy once every five million years. That’s why no one was prepared.” Zeke turned to Mark. “The supernova became a hyper-nova and released a long duration gamma ray burst.” He went back to the whiteboard. “This burst created a gamma ray jet of more energy than will be released in the entire lifetime, that’s over ten billion years, of our sun.” He fanned the beam over the earth. “The rotational axis of WR 104 was such that the gamma ray jet traveled 7,500 light years distance. Earth happened to be in the way.”

“And it’s gone?”

“Complex multicellular surface life is extinct. Deep sea creatures likely survived.” He pointed to the small dot representing the moon. “We were lucky to be shielded from the direct blast. With no atmosphere, and being underground, we missed it all.”

Mark stared at his friend and said nothing for a long time. “Complex surface life is extinct? Trees, deer, dogs, cattle…”

“All gone.”

“What’s it mean?”

“It means we better get our act together here on the moon. Moon Base Armstrong and Japan Station are it.”

“What about Mars?”

Zeke shook his head. “Not sure. The gamma ray burst may have got it. We have to act as if Moon Base Armstrong is humanity’s last stand.”

“Before you talk about our last stand, there’s something else.”

“What?”

Mark stared at his hands with a deep frown. “I have all these pictures, you know, of where I’ve been; pictures of the people I’ve seen and the things I’ve done.” He looked up. “What does any of it mean?”

“I don’t follow.”

Mark stood up and reached behind the whiteboard. He withdrew one of Doctor Ben-Ami’s prize possessions — a hardback book. “We had to choose a whopping five pounds of personal things to bring here. I took devices that store my books, thousands of pictures, videos.” He set the book on the shelf and pointed to it. “You brought this, the Talmud.”

“It’s just a few commentaries on the Talmud. I have all of it in an electronic version.” Zeke licked his lips and got a faraway look in his eyes. “This book is part of my heritage.”

“That’s what I mean. I went to Jerusalem, I saw the Wailing Wall. I went to Jericho the oldest continuously inhabited city.” He tapped the book. “I’ve been to New York City, walked through the British Museum in London, saw the Terracotta Army in China…” He stopped and stared at a wall. “All that’s gone. How could this happen?”

“I just explained it.”

“I mean, how can a benevolent God do something like this? In all the apocalyptic tales, like Wool , or Battlestar Galactica , or The Day After , or Dr. Strangelove, or even the bible’s book of Revelation ; we did it to ourselves. Making something that killed us or destroying our home through war or pollution made more sense. There was karmic justice in the idea of being our own destroyer.”

“You’re looking for justice?”

“Yes, how can an unthinking, uncaring universe snuff us out? This is worse than Sodom and Gomorrah which the bible says was destroyed because all in it were evil. There may have been a lot of evil people on earth but there were also a lot of good people down there.” He exhaled and shuddered. “What of our family and friends on earth? What did they die for? What was their crime?” Mark pinched his nose. “What did five millennia of human history mean?”

“You think I or the Talmud can answer that?” Zeke shook his head. “You’re better off looking to Voltaire’s Candide for that answer. Bad stuff happens and it’s best we don’t pretend there’s some grand scheme. Just tend your own garden.” He pointed around the garish interior. “This is our garden for better or worse.”

Mark picked up the book. “You realize we’ll never see another newly produced, leather bound, wood pulp paper book?”

“I’m working on that. The lunar regolith has enough materials to make writing sheets and markers. They’re not paper but we’ll have material for the poets among us.”

“For what purpose?”

“To feel… to live…” Zeke picked up his book. “Don’t look for purpose here.” He tapped Mark’s breast. “Look for purpose there. All religions say that.”

“What?”

“Genesis. We’re made in the likeness of God. And we are most god-like when we create.” He motioned to the station around them. “I’m finished mourning. I still draw breath. We humans are the end, not the means. We must have reverence for our humanity and that reverence will lead to grand lunar creations.” He smiled at his friend. “We’ll create our future.”

“You really believe we can create a future with purpose? Look at this place.”

“We’ll create a new future — not more of what is but what it could be, what it ought to be — and we’ll do it with those of us who survived the gamma ray burst.”

“You really believe we can find a new purpose?”

Zeke pointed to a display monitor showing the stark lunar surface. “This is the perfect spot to create our new meaning.”

Mark was about to reply that Zeke’s last comment sounded more like Ayn Rand than the bible but was interrupted by his contactor. He looked at the notice and smiled. “Doctor Zeke, I’ve got to go. Sally’s waiting to see me.”

“Go… survive, feel, create… your purpose is before you.”

Sally waited outside Mark’s living quarters. Was it a mistake to bring Chuck with me? She looked at Chuck who was making faces through his wired-shut teeth at his reflection in the window. Mark’s arrival stopped any thought of retreat.

“What’s this?” Mark asked standing just inside the Nexus, facing them from a distance.

“I never got your pass-down on the condition of the oxygen reactor.”

Mark glared at Chuck. “I was occupied in recovering from oxygen deprivation.”

“So, what’s the status?”

“The oxygen reactor is in good shape: 98%. I’ll log in and transfer my data summary.”

“Good, um, can we talk?”

Mark pointed to Chuck. “All of us?”

Sally nodded. “Please?”

Only Sally could get him to agree to something so preposterous. Mark grunted. “Okay.”