Final Project

Galen R.

Legislator:  Robert Junell, Representative

(Click on the image above to enlarge.)

Lunar Colony One
by Keith Clark (fictional character)
(as told to Galen Rappé)

I never thought it would happen to me...Sure, we had all heard about Lunar Colony One, or LC1...about the first lucky 100 families to live on the Moon (or Luna, as eggheads called it), about how those first intrepid explorers would boldly go where no one had gone before...or some rubbish like that. We had all studied Moon Base Alpha, the first commercial base on the moon, about the advances that resulted in production of fuel and oxygen from lunar soil, and all that stuff in history class. And that’s what it was to me...ancient history.

To a boy of sixteen, there were more important things than colonizing the moon...Sally Cooper, for example. Sally Cooper was one of the prettiest girls in Bellaire High School. And I had been working on getting her to go out for me the entire fall semester. And the day my dad came home and told us about the move, she had agreed to go with me to the Christmas Dance.

Dad came home early that day, grinning like the cat who found a back door its own size into a mouse den. Dad was a computer technician at the Johnson Space Center and had just completed an astronomy degree.

“Everyone,” he said. “Sit down. I have something wonderful to tell you.” Oh boy, I thought. Last time he had said that, we ended up taking a trip to Russia.  As Linda (my 21 year old sister back from college for the Christmas break) Mom, and I gathered at the dinner table, he leaned back in his chair and, if it was possible, grinned even wider.  “We are going to the moon,” He said. We all stared at him. I thought about calling the hospital. “No, really. I’ve been offered the post of assistant chief astronomer at the LC1 Lunar Colony, and all of you are coming with me.”

As he spoke, I felt my heart sink. What about all my friends at school? What about his job at JSC? What about Mom’s job at Rice (she was an assistant professor of music there.)? What about...SALLY?????  “I can’t believe this!” I groaned.  “It’s true,” he said. “And we’re leaving in mid-February. Training starts January 3.” He went on to describe LC1, about how it was four levels tall, with the bottom three levels buried underneath the lunar soil to protect from radiation, about its room for 150 families. “But we’re only starting with 100,” he said. He talked about the virtual reality games and the exercise room, about the life support system, which was bioregenerative, about the food supply, which was plants, plants, and more plants, and about everything else. Mom asked about what kind of job she would have. “They need a music teacher, too,” Dad explained. “And what’s even better, we won’t have to worry about money! All of the assets of the colony are the colony’s. If you need something, you get it.” 

“Wait a moment, Dad,” Linda interrupted. “They tried that back in Europe during the twentieth century. They called it communism, I think. It didn’t work.”

“I know that, Linda.” Dad said patiently. “I was born the year the Berlin Wall fell, remember?”

***

Anyway, this went on for a while, but eventually we all accepted it...except me. All through the Christmas Dance, I was burdened by the thought that not only was this my first date with the beautiful Sally Cooper, but my last.

“What’s wrong, Keith?” she asked. “You don’t seem quite as happy as usual. Am I doing something wrong?” Typical. A guy isn’t having the time of his life, so the girl decides that it’s all HER fault. I told her about the upcoming move. “That’s terrible,” she said. Then she went off and danced with David Cook, my (former) best friend.

Traitor, I thought.

***

We went through the standard one-month passenger astronaut training.  All the instructors ever said was “This is emergency procedure (insert meaningless numbers and letters here). If the shuttle suffers a catastrophic incident (blows p) on the pad (or in space or during takeoff, etc.), go out the door, grab onto the bar and slide to the bottom.” The slide was cool. It went from the “white room” next to the shuttle to a spot about half a mile away on the ground. I think you’d get up to 100 going on that thing!  We were going on the shuttle with a young couple about Linda’s age, making our total passenger count five. Our commander was named Harvey “Buck” Rogers, and he was cool. He was into old music (you know, 1970s and 80s groups), just like me, and knew how to connect with me. I still brooded about Sally.

The launch was amazing. The vibration was incredible, and the noise was the loudest I’ve ever heard. I was pushed back into my seat by the acceleration forces, and all thoughts disappeared. I vaguely remember a jolt, and whooping in excitement. All too soon, it was over. We docked to the Space Station Moonshot, where we learned that we would be going to the moon with several other families. I got sick, but so did everyone else. After a few days, with new people arriving each day, we were launched toward the Moon on a ship about the size of the cargo bay of the shuttle we took to the station. Then we initiated TLI or translunar injection. Powerful rockets kicked me in the seat of my pants, and we were on our way to the moon.  Along the way, I met a boy about my age named Scott. He looked like I felt: in shock. I had been plucked out of my home, about to date the prettiest girl I had ever known, and thrust into this situation. With my luck, all the children on the colony would be boys, except for a few 2-year old girls. Dating prospects didn’t look too good. Scott understood me; he had never had a girlfriend, he confided, but he had always had many girl friends. Then all thought ceased as the captain said, over the intercom: “This is your captain speaking, we are approaching the moon, all passengers fasten seat belts and prepare for  LOI.”

“What’s LOI?” I asked Dad. Dad told me that LOI stands for Lunar Orbit Insertion. “It’s when the ship slows down to go into an orbit around the moon, because if we were to keep going at our present speed, we’d whip around the moon and never be seen again.”

I started praying very hard that the engines would work.

***

After we left the moon colony’s landing pad, wearing spacesuits, the 1/6th gravity felt more like 2 Gs. As I struggled to walk, Dad eyed me critically. “You didn’t exercise regularly like I told you to, did you?”

“No, Dad.” Here came a speech - I could feel it.

“You’re going to have to remember to do that here on the moon. If you don’t, when we go back to earth to visit, you’ll have to be carried around, and would probably have a heart attack.”

“Ok, O.K..” I looked around, but couldn’t see the cylindrical colony anywhere. “Where’s the building?” I asked, mostly to keep him from lecturing me any more.

“Right over there,” Dad said, pointing to what looked like a 40-foot diameter cone with the nose chopped off. “That’s just the top floor. The rest is underground.” The cone had windows all around that let light shine through.

Once inside, we took off our moonsuits and looked out at the stark landscape. “Wait a minute. You said that the colony was underground because of radiation. What about this level?”

“This level is radiation shielded. At least six centimeters of lead on all exposed surfaces,” said a tall black man wearing a blue jumpsuit.

“Hi. I’m the mayor of the colony, George Denton.”

I frowned, remembering something. “Lead is poisonous, isn’t it?”  Mayor Denton smiled wryly. “Only if you eat it.” His expression changed to one of mock reproach. “You’re not planning to eat my colony, are you?”

I laughed. I liked Mayor Denton.

“Hello, Mayor,” Dad said. “I’m John Clark. This is my wife, Cindy, and my son, Keith.”

“Call me George,” said the mayor, then, after squinting at Dad, “You’re that slave that Gina’s been crabbing about.” At our questioning looks, he laughed again and said, “Gina is our astronomer.”

“Oh, O.K..” Dad nodded, then his face grew thoughtful. “Would that be Regina L’Fleur, the woman responsible for discovering the L’Fleur Effect?”

“Yeah, and she’ll never let you forget it, either.” Nodding, the mayor rolled his eyes, then greeted the others who had come on our ship.  After all the greetings, he took us on a small tour of the colony. “Right now, we’re standing on Level One. Level One is what we call the observation level, for obvious reasons. Level One only uses the outer seven feet of the top cone. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you what the rest of the cone is for.” He led us down a ladder. “This is Level Two. Or more properly, the atrium.” The atrium was amazing. From above, sunlight came through and on the floor, in gray dusty soil, were plants. “Peanuts, soybeans, potatoes, wheat, and strawberries,” said Mayor Denton (I never got used to calling him George). “When the wheat gets ripe, we plan on making our own bread, and it converts the most carbon dioxide to oxygen in the colony.” He waved to a small Oriental woman wearing a white shirt and an apron. “Hi, Karla.” The woman smiled and nodded. “Karla Wang,” the mayor said, “is our botanist. She keeps the plants growing. How’s the soil doing?”

“Better than yesterday,” the woman said. “The lunar soil, as you might expect, isn’t the best for growing things. We have to fertilize regularly.”

“Can you grow tomatoes?” Dad asked. I grinned. Dad loved tomatoes -- especially ones that he grows. “Not yet”, she replied, “but we’re working on it.”  We moved out of the atrium to the rest of Level two. As we walked down the curving gray hallway, Mayor Denton pointed out the sights. “In there is the classroom, where the kids will be taught.” or “That’s the GeoLab, where you, Dr. Hofner, will be working.” or “This is the hydroponics laboratory. We grow fruits in here.” And, as we were going down another ladder, “This is Level Three. On the perimeter of the Level are living areas, and in the center, directly under the atrium, is the kitchen and Colony Cafeteria.”

We went down another ladder. “This is Level Four,” Denton said. “The Colony Medical Center (You’ll be working there, Dr. Webb.), the fish farms--”

“FISH FARMS!!” A ten year old girl (I learned later that her name was Carrie) exclaimed. “On the Moon?!?!”

“Yes, indeed,” Denton said, with a grandfatherly smile.

“But where do you get the water?” asked Scott, the boy I met on the ship to here.

“I’ll explain that, mayor,” said a cool female voice to my left. (“Call me George,” the mayor replied.) We turned and saw another young woman.

This one was white. “I am Shelly Nadier. It was my idea. While we were building the colony, we were using batteries, which produce hydrogen ions. We were also using a small regolith (that’s a fancy word for lunar soil) refiner to produce oxygen. We were making more oxygen than we could store or breathe, so--”

“So you put the hydrogen ions and the oxygen molecules together, they combined, and made water!” Scott broke in.  “Yep.” Shelly said, smiling. She turned to Scott’s parents. “Can I borrow him for a while?”

Scott’s mom looked flustered, so Mayor Denton rescued her from having to answer. “Also on Level Four are the batteries, some life support things, and more living quarters, although nobody will be living in those for a while.”

“Why do you need batteries?” Scott asked, then answered himself.

"Because night lasts for two weeks on the Moon, and the solar panels obviously won’t generate enough electricity then.”

“You’re quite the scholar, aren’t you?” Mayor Denton jokingly asked.

***

After the tour, we went to our living suite. Our luggage hadn’t arrived yet, and even when it had, most of my stuff wouldn’t be here. The walls were gray and unemotional. I began to feel depressed again. Sure, the colony was neat, but, aside from Scott, there seemed to be no one my age in the entire colony. I missed my friends, and though I probably shouldn’t have, Sally. All the loneliness, suppressed for the past two and a half months by the warp speed activity, took over my mind and I laid on my bed, apathetic (and probably pathetic as well), for two hours. Time sure flies when you’re at a pity party.

***

After unpacking the few clothes and things we had brought with us, we went to the cafeteria for dinner. Mom and Dad started to talk with the people they’d be working with, and I wandered over to join Scott.

“Howzit goin’, Scott?” I asked.

“Weird, man. I bounce with every step I take, and nothing’s familiar.” Scott shook his head dejectedly. “And there aren’t any teen girls for miles.”

“Check that data again, buddy, cuz here comes a couple.” I had noticed two teen girls, a tall blonde and a medium sized brunette, that had entered the cafeteria. They got their food...and came to sit with us.  “Hi,” the blonde said, smiling. She had a very pretty smile. “You’re new here, aren’t you?”

“Yep,” replied Scott, smiling back. “My name is Scott, and the tall one there is named Keith. Scott and the blonde, whose name was Kristin, hit it off immediately. The brunette smiled shyly at me. “My name’s Christina, or Tina for short.”

“Hi, Tina. Uh...how long have you been here?” I asked slowly. Tina was nowhere near as pretty as Sally had been, but there was something in her eyes...

“A few weeks. Kristin and I have been wondering when some guys would turn up. Kristin was a bit more than wondering,” she confided, throwing a glance at Kristin to see if she was listening.

I chuckled, feeling nervous. Nervous? I asked myself, why should I be nervous? You have to understand, I’ve had many girlfriends, and haven’t been nervous around a girl in years! “Yeah, I guess I can understand that. Where on Earth are you from?”

“Seattle. Where are you from?”

“Houston. A bit far from where you call home - or used to that is.” I tried to smile. Oh shoot! What was her name? “I’m sorry, what was your name again?” I felt like an idiot.  She smiled, a burst of warm sunshine on a dark, cloudy day. I felt myself melting. “Tina, Ti-NA. And you’re Keith.”

I recovered. “Who was I again?” I asked mock-seriously. “Kyle? No. Ken? That’s not right. Ah, yes, Killgore. That was it.” I said it with such empty-headed certainty that she had to laugh. Tina is very cute when she laughs.

Maybe the moon isn’t so bad after all.

THE END

Sources:

1. “Alternative Lunar Mission Strategies”

http://www-sn.jsc.nasa.gov/PlanetaryMissions/EXLibrary?DOCS/EIC051.HTML

2. “Engineering Life”

http://lifesci3.arc.nasa.gov/SpaceSettlement/Contest/Results/96/winner/seis.html

3. “Romance to Reality: Wheat Farming in a Lunar Base”

http://members.aol.com/dsfportee/ex84k.htm

 

Last Updated:  09/07/01