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Chapter 7: The Omnivista Resort
Marc kept pace with Pierre’s long strides, purposefully distancing himself from the other teenagers. Rune was not far behind, pushing the trash magskid while perpetrating her childlike facade. Regan and Buzz followed, silently exchanging enthusiastic glances, while Andy stared ahead aloofly, his hands in his pockets.
Chaplin traipsed along beside Steve at the back of the crew. The signature bounce in his walk was gone. Each step seemed to require a great deal of energy, as though his legs had hardened into stone. Melancholy made him less intimidating, and she found herself taking short glances at his face. His eyes were not a brilliant blue as she had expected, but a shade of gray that seemed out of place against his bronze skin, like two rainclouds suspended in a tropical sunset. There was a tiny circular scar set into the skin above his manicured right eyebrow, and another at the base of his neck.
Pierre stopped in the center of the massive lobby and the teenagers gathered in front of him the way any sightseeing group would to hear a tour guide expound upon a foreign destination. He began a prosaic narrative, his words reverberating as they bounced across the expanse of white tile.
“Phase One of Project Lunar was digging a big rectangle into the surface and installing the roof and skylights. Then they hooked up the atmospheric contraptions--gravity, oxygen, temperature--and we built out the walls.” He crossed the room and banged a closed fist on the stark white surface between two glass doors. A corner of his mouth crept up, forming an asymmetrical smirk at a diabolical accomplishment. “Moon rock and a little bit of concrete. This stuff is sound proof and indestructible.”
Regan’s mouth fell open in horror. She turned to look at Marc whose jaw was tightly clenched to prevent a similar expression. Sound proof and indestructible were attributes more fitting for a medieval dungeon than a luxury hotel. Looking up at the waning Earth, she understood how imprisoned they truly were.
Pierre continued his commentary, unaware of the impact of his gloating.
“We installed all wiring, painted, laid the flooring, hung the doors,” he rotated a silver handle and swung open the frosted glass door beside him. The empty room behind it was painted the deep red shade of pomegranate seeds, and without windows to provide the glow of the moon, it was like looking at walls of human flesh.
“And there’s the murder room,” Buzz quipped under his breath. His widened eyes looked around the group to see their reactions, but was promptly interrupted.
“What was that?” Pierre barked, the contentment vanishing from his face, which was taking the color of the room behind him.
Buzz’s face snapped back to attention. It was not the first time a joke had landed him in trouble, and he knew the key was to ask an on-topic question in a loud, clear voice. In his experience, people generally chose to answer the question and avoid escalating a conflict. Except his 86-year-old Bubbe.
“What’s this place called?” Buzz asked politely, hoping his wide eyes and smile would make him seem genuinely interested in the answer.
Pierre chortled and scratched the peppered stubble growing on his fleshy neck. His pale, thick lips widened into an acerbic smile. He raised and opened his arms theatrically, and silkily announced, “The Omnivista Resort.”
“I like it,” Rune chirped brightly.
“Oh good,” Pierre replied sarcastically. He jerked his thumb to the right. “Over here you’ve got a little coffee shop and one of the restaurants. Behind it is Bank B of guest rooms.”
Marc moved to look down the hallway at the next set of rooms, but Pierre walked away and continued to list rooms, having clearly lost enthusiasm for the excursion.
“I think this is a store.” He walked counter clockwise along the edge of the lobby, listing rooms indifferently as he passed. “Gym and pool, spa. Your room’s gonna be the daycare.”
Pierre stopped in front of the door next to their dorm room and turned to the kids. His brow wrinkled as he scowled, waiting for each of them to pay attention. Rune felt her hands tremble and hid them behind her back. She focused on the impeccably tied laces of Andy’s boots inches from her own. Steve recognized his sister’s distress and moved to the front of the group, blocking her view of the door.
“Don’t go in here,” Pierre warned them bluntly.
The words hung in the air like thick, black smoke. Marc looked fixedly at the man’s steely face, waiting for some explanation. What was in the room? Why did he encourage one of them to enter when they first arrived? Would he dole out the same punishment again? None of the teenagers dared to ask.
They silently followed their oppressor as he recommenced the tour in large, slogging steps. Behind two glass doors a gleaming silver counter curved to mimic a crescent moon. Blue light bounced off pearly walls extending further back to a large empty room.
“Here’s the fine dining restaurant,” Pierre grumbled without stopping. “And right next to it, the Gold Bar.”
A floor-to-ceiling glass wall framed an unremarkable brown slab. It lacked the opulence of its name, altogether out of place in the Tiffany Blue room. A giant brick of mud set inside an expensive jewelry box.
“Fancy!” Buzz whispered to Regan. She snickered quietly and elbowed him in the ribs, reminding him to stay out of trouble. He grabbed his side in exaggerated pain, which caused Chaplin to snort in delight. The sound echoed across the empty room, inciting laughter from Marc, Steve, and Rune.
“And this is what I’ve been working on.” Pierre raised his raspy voice over the rowdy teenagers. Directly to his left stood two wide azure doors adorned with antique silver handles. His beefy hand covered barely a third of the twisting metal as he pulled it toward him. “The theater.”
Marc collected himself as he watched Andy boldly walk through the doorway, then strode quickly to catch up. As he stopped next to his composed peer, his feet sensed the soft flooring through his heavy work boots. The lush red carpeting beneath him extended in two aisles down a sloping matte gray floor where several rows of seats had been installed at the bottom. Marc followed Andy as he descended further into the auditorium toward an elevated stage with pale wood flooring. The industrial lights flickered off, drawing both their faces up to the glowing crystal chandelier suspended from the high, windowless ceiling.
Rune, also gazing upward, bumped into Marc and steadied herself by grabbing his arm. At the foot of the stage, Regan ran her palm over the smooth wooden surface while Buzz calculated how many seats would ultimately fill the room. Chaplin sat in the center of the sixth row and leaned her head back to take in the view above. The severe white lights flashed back on and Pierre lumbered down to meet the students, huffing slightly as his body shook with each step.
“200 seats?” Buzz shouted across the room, having finished his calculation.
“250,” Pierre yelled back, stopping behind Chaplin’s chair. “It would’ve taken the Phase One crew less than a week, those bastards.”
The dingy handkerchief appeared once more to mop his damp head. He sighed deeply and leaned forward on the seatbacks in front of him. Chaplin recognized anguish as she viewed his face in close proximity for the first time. Pale purple skin sagged below a pair of unfocused brown eyes, somberly lost in thought. She wondered how long he had been by himself in the large hotel before they arrived for Phase Two. How long did it take for Jack Torrance to turn on his wife and child when they were secluded at the Overlook?
“We could probably install the rest of the rows in about a week,” Marc offered, scanning the room with his hands on his hips.
With a shake of his head, Pierre tore himself from his inner thoughts.
“Nah,” he grumbled as he straightened himself. “I need you to start installing lights in guest rooms before Earthset. Come on.”
He clomped down to the right hand corner of the stage and took the black circle from his pocket. As he pressed it against the nondescript wall, a section slid away. Pierre stepped in and turned on the lights, revealing a narrow hallway covered entirely with matte-black paint.
“Backstage passes.” Buzz joked, marching forward through the small space with the rest of the group single file like a line of ants.
The blackened corridor beside the stage was so short that Pierre reached its exit and opened the door before Chaplin stepped through the first. White light streaked down the hallway, turning each person in front of her into shadowy figures that disappeared as they advanced. She watched Steve turn right and found herself squinting into a blinding abyss. She rubbed her stinging eyes as she stepped into the light and her body crashed into something cold and hard.
Cautiously opening her eyes, Chaplin found herself face to face with a chalky gray wall. She stumbled backward as her sight came back into focus and saw that Steve was a good twenty paces away. But just as she started after them, she caught a glimmer in the corner of her left eye. Through a sliver of a door that sat slightly ajar, a golden beam pulsed steadily like the beacon of a lighthouse. Her body moved toward it instinctively, and before she had a chance to consider the risks, she had stepped inside the room.
A gilded cat waved its paw from its perch on a beige table identical to the one in her dorm room. Beside it, a pen was nested in the pages of a tattered paperback of crossword puzzles next to an empty coffee mug. Chaplin looked up, almost expecting to find the book’s owner, and recognized the furnishing. A row of ten bunk beds lined the wall, sleeping bags and navy jumpsuits strewn carelessly across them. In the corner, an acoustic guitar leaned against the wall beside a battered pair of work boots and several empty beer cans.
Heart pounding, Chaplin pulled the door knob as she backed out of the abandoned room, making sure to leave it slightly open. She sprinted down the empty corridor to catch up with the rest of the group, panicked by her solitude.
“She was right behind me,” Steve said as he reappeared in the hallway and saw Chaplin tearing down the hallway. It was clear that she was not running to them, but rather from something. “Hold on, I think she tripped.”
He allowed the door to close behind him and in a hush voice commanded “FALL! FALL DOWN!’
Chaplin threw herself on the dusty cement floor, smacking the left side of her face as her body’s momentum caused her to slide closer to Steve. He jogged over to her, knelt down, and whispered, “You hit your head. Act confused.”
“What?” She gasped as she struggled to catch her breath.
“Perfect.” Steve smiled and gently pulled the hair away from her bleeding cheekbone. His stormy eyes ran over her face and then her crumpled body.
“She okay?” Pierre bellowed from the end of the passageway.
“Compared to what?” Steve laughed and scooped Chaplin up in his arms as he raised himself from the floor. She rested her head against his jagged collar bone as he carried her to their boss. “Looks like she managed to break the fall with her face.”
“Don’t be an ass,” Pierre muttered, leaning in to examine her eyes. “What happened, sweetheart?”
Chaplin shrugged, taking care to control her panting. She closed her eyes and pressed her face against Steve’s chest and drew in a long breath of pine needles and his own personal scent. It was not unpleasant, and she was relieved to avoid further eye contact with Pierre.
“I’ve got a first aid kit somewhere. Think you can get her back to your room?”
“You’ve got it, boss,” Steve answered jovially.
She kept her eyes closed as they met up with the others, happy to feign unconsciousness if it meant they didn’t pummel her with questions. Instead, they directed all their inquiries to Steve, whose deep voice vibrated in his chest as he lied about finding her sprawled on the floor and shaking her to wake her up. But as he lowered her onto her bed, he whispered, “We’ll talk about this later.”
Pierre showed up an hour later, carrying what could have been mistaken for his lunch box were it not for the the white cross printed on the red canvas. He tossed it to Steve, who caught it and placed it on the table next to his bowl of instant macaroni and cheese and continued eating. After a moment of everyone silently avoiding eye contact, Regan took the kit to Chaplin’s bed to clean her face and bandage the wound on her right temple. An impressive amount of blood had leaked from what amounted to a light scrape, leaving brown stains on her collar.
“Why don’t you stay here and rest up?” Pierre offered from his position at the doorway, grimacing at the reddened wipes Regan carried to the trashcan in the kitchen.
Chaplin sat up slowly and gingerly ran her fingers across the gauze taped to her forehead, then shook her head to reject the suggestion. Being trapped alone for several hours seemed like a plot device in a gory horror movie. Strange things waited to be discovered in this place, and she did not wish to uncover anymore on her own.
“Suit yourself,” Pierre shrugged and looked at the gold watch on his wrist. “Get started on Bank A of guest rooms. Should be two and a half days of good Earthlight left.”
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Chapter 6: Ahead of Schedule
The teenagers fell into a steady rhythm over the next three days. Marc and Andy would take the first bathroom shift each morning at 7:45 while Regan brewed a pot of coffee. When the alarm sounded at 8:00, the girls would use the bathroom while Steve went through a nearly naked exercise routine of pushups and situps in the middle of the room, urging Buzz, Andy, and Marc to join him while they ate at the table. At 8:15, the girls sat down for breakfast while Steve showered and Buzz changed into his jumpsuit in a bathroom stall. Everyone was dressed by 8:25, and Andy would diligently load the dishwasher while Chaplin filled seven clear blue plastic canteens with water.
Pierre correctly predicted that their pace would increase with practice and strategy. Steve, Chaplin, and Buzz focused on installing the bathroom lights while Andy, Regan, and Marc installed the lights in the hotel room. Rune continued collecting the packaging materials from each room, positioning herself to return to the warehouse twice each day. The work was tedious and repetitive, but it moved quickly.
Mid-morning on the fourth day, Regan found Marc alone, adjusting the sconces Steve had installed in one of the bathrooms.
“Hey,” she called from the doorway. “What time is it?”
Marc pulled his squinting face away from the light fixture and looked curiously at Regan. She leaned against the doorframe with her arms folded across her stomach. There was excitement behind her eyes, which squinted slightly as a restrained smirk lifted her cheeks. He got lost in the dark brown hue that was almost indistinguishable from her pupils, but he could not fathom what she might suddenly find enjoyable about their work. Marc reached into his left pocket and pulled out the yellow aircom Pierre provided him and toggled on the display.
“10:52,” he informed her. Regan’s face lit up, her teeth a dazzling white contrast to her complexion. Marc felt his own face stretch into a smile. Warmth radiated through his body. The feeling was so pleasant he forgot that he did not actually know what they were happy about. He was content to simply be with her.
“I think we’re all done with the lights.” Buzz’s voice interrupted the moment. His curly black hair looked preposterous next to Regan’s alluring presence, dragging Marc back to the reality of the bathroom he was standing in.
“I know! And it’s not even 11 yet!” Regan exclaimed, turning to Buzz, whose pale cheeks dimpled as a goofy grin crept onto his face. His thick arm reached above his head to high-five her, then reached over the pristine white toilet to congratulate Marc.
Andy appeared in the doorway and received several loud pats on his petite back from Buzz. A small, polite smile appeared on his face as he silently took in the celebratory scene.
“What should we do?” Regan asked, nearly jumping up and down.
“I guess we should call Mr. Pierre and let him know.” Andy shrugged and pointed to the aircom in Marc’s hand.
“What?” Regan blurted back. Her expression transformed from elation to indignation. She quickly pivoted her entire body towards Andy, who slid his hands into his pockets and looked at the ground to avoid her outraged gaze. He was at least four inches shorter than she was, and his reserved nature made him easy to overlook. Regan paused for a moment, straightening the navy fabric around her hips before speaking again in a composed and friendly voice.
“Look,” she began in a pleasant, yet forceful tone. “We’re ahead of schedule. He doesn’t expect us to be finished with the lights until lunchtime. That gives us a whole hour to do whatever we want.”
“Like what?” Marc asked as he took a seat on the toilet’s closed lid.
“Take a break. Explore the rest of this place. Hang out.” Regan listed as she moved further into the bathroom and sat on the glossy white edge of the tub.
Steve sauntered into the room, jostling Andy and Buzz in the doorway as he passed.
“I’d love to have a look around this place,” he announced, lowering himself into the bathtub as though ready for a long soak.
“We can’t just walk around,” Rune scoffed from the doorway.
“Why not?” Buzz asked.
She stared at him expectantly for a moment, then jerked her chin toward the tub. His shoulders slumped as he followed her order to sit next to Regan. Andy slid over, clearing a path for Rune who threw a few empty boxes onto Steve’s chest before hoisting herself onto the ledge of the sink.
“We can’t just walk around because there are cameras,” she explained, her voice taking on the coolness and arrogance of a teenager denying a new student a seat at the popular table during lunch.
“Where?” Marc asked, leaning back in disbelief.
“Probably everywhere.” Rune brushed her blonde hair behind her shoulder. “There’s a monitor in his office.”
Steve sat up straight and shot a venomous look in her direction. “When were you in his office?” he demanded.
“The first day he took us to the warehouse,” Rune gloated. She crossed her thin legs and held her hands out to study her unpolished fingernails.
“AND YOU DIDN’T TELL ME?!” His deep voice bounced violently off the bathroom tiles, seeming to vibrate in seismic waves. The empty boxes on Steve’s lap flew across the tub has he stood up. Apart from Rune, who continued to critique her hands, the kids were mesmerized by Steve’s sudden transformation. Every muscle in his body seemed to flex as he clenched his fists by his side. Redness spread from his face down the half-open zipper on his chest. He threw his right arm against the wall beside him. “DAMMIT, RUNE!”
Marc jumped up from his seat and positioned himself between the tub and the sink. He raised his palms toward Steve, motioning him to stay back. “Okay, man. She didn’t tell us. But let’s not turn on each other.”
“They’re siblings.” A quiet, silvery voice came from the next room.
The group whipped their heads to see who the unfamiliar voice belonged to. Chaplin sat a few feet from the bathroom door, leaning forward over legs crossed beneath her. Strands of black hair fell from the messy bun at the base of her neck, partially obscuring a pale face that was aimed at the thumb she used to trace the angular pattern of the carpet.
“Oh, now you can talk,” Steve chided, rolling his eyes. He crossed his arms and leaned against the bathroom wall.
“She’s right.” Regan stared at Rune’s now puckered lips, nodding in recognition. She turned around to look at Steve. “I saw you on Zenthic. Your fathers built that spa off the coast of Algeria.”
“Santejo!” Buzz chimed in, his face lit up with excitement usually reserved for opening an expensive gift. “They got married there, right? I remember; you were the best man and maid of honor. And after that episode aired everyone started having those green, leafy arrangements instead of flowers at their events.”
“Yes!” Regan chattered, squeaking with excitement. “And you two danced next to them to that Maebh song!”
Her face became intensely serious and she began impersonating the rich, velvety tone of a diva expressing deep emotion.
“We’re gonna light up,
Burn forever,
Burn forever.”
Buzz joined her, belting the love song and dramatically gesturing with their hands while staring passionately into each other’s eyes.
“Find our place in the sky now,
Stay together,
Burn forever,
And whenever the sun sets,
Shine so bright that the world sees,
There will always be light if you believe.”
They grasped one another’s hands and brought their faces close together as they sang the last line. Right as their lips were about to touch they burst into a fit of giggles.
“And then they stopped believing,” Steve scoffed, stepping out of the tub. Buzz and Regan fell silent, their superstar personas diminishing to amateur performers riddled with stage fright.
“You could have come,” Rune mumbled without looking up. A tear landed on her left thigh, leaving a darkened circle.
“You could have stayed,” he stated flatly as he skulked out of the bathroom.
Regan and Buzz shared a remorseful glance. The lavish wedding was an iconic event of their childhood, which the lifestyle channel Zenithic aired several dozen times. The divorce two years ago was a mere rumor, handled quietly out of the public eye. Steve and his father were infrequently spotted at major events, but Rune and her father eluded the news cycle.
Marc was oblivious to all of this. He had never heard of Zenithic or watched a televised wedding. The first time he had ever seen Rune and Steve was outside the terminal before launch day, politely speaking with their estranged family. Burn Forever was the only connection Marc had to the story. It was still a popular choice for young girls to perform at school talent shows.
Rune slid off the edge of the sink and collected the packaging strewn across the bathtub. She stopped in front of Marc on her way out of the room and forcefully reiterated, “Call Pierre.”
“Wow.” Regan sheepishly broke the silence once she was sure the siblings were out of earshot. She looked around at Andy, Buzz, and Marc, explaining, “I figured since they were here together they must still be close. I feel like such an asshole.”
“I didn’t know about all that wedding stuff, but I thought they were too,” Marc agreed. He sat back down and fidgeted with the aircom. “11:09.”
“If he’s watching, he knows we’re not working,” Andy cautioned in a small voice.
“Yeah,” Buzz sighed. He hoisted himself up and chivalrously offered a clammy hand to Regan. “It’s not like we’re having a pizza party anyway.”
“I guess not.” Regan chuckled and allowed Buzz to help her up.
Marc stuck his head out the bathroom door and addressed Chaplin, who was still enamored of the carpet. “What do you think?”
Chaplin motioned apathetically with her right hand, as though swatting a fly away. Marc turned around and grinned at Regan, hoping to renew the electricity that surged through them when she first entered the room. She smiled back but the euphoric energy that had connected them had dissipated. Marc tapped the call button displayed on the aircom’s glass screen and waited for Pierre to respond.
“Yeah?” The deep, raspy voice came through the speaker.
“We’re done with the lights over here,” Marc stated, a hint of his Puerto Rican accent emerging as he adopted the confident tone of a foreman at a construction site.
“Hang tight. I’m on my way.” Pierre didn’t sound at all surprised or impressed that the kids were ahead of schedule.
They gathered in the hallway and waited for his arrival. He lumbered around the corner wearing his own navy jumpsuit stretched tightly across his round stomach with its sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Streaks of black grease stained the side of his pants, clearly originating from his hands, where dark crescents sat beneath his fingernails.
“You checked these?” Pierre asked Marc casually as he pointed down the row of doorways.
“Yeah,” Marc affirmed, trying to hide his surprise that he commanded some sort of authority within Project Lunar. He glanced at Regan, who raised her eyebrows, appearing both impressed and entertained by the notion that Pierre decided to trust one of his captives. Marc blushed and shrugged away any air of superiority he might have accidentally assumed.
As Pierre made his way down the hall testing the lights in each room, Marc thought about Regan’s suggestion to explore the building. They would have to be allowed to see it eventually, and it would be practical to get a sense of the layout while there was still a decent amount of Earthlight. He knew being escorted by Pierre wouldn’t be nearly as exciting as sneaking around by themselves, but it might be the boost the team needed to get over the earlier scene in the bathroom. Emboldened by his new position, Marc decided to float the idea past their boss.
“Looks good.” Pierre’s loud voice was dampened as he made his way back down the carpeted hallway.
“Cool.” Marc readied himself. He turned his back to the rest of the group and took a couple of steps forward to meet Pierre head on. Standing tall with his hands on his hips, he spoke with the casual confidence of a construction worker explaining the day’s progress. “Might be a good time for the crew to feel out the rest of the building. We’re losing Earthlight pretty fast.”
“You’re telling me,” Pierre exhaled, sounding almost defeated by the quixotic race against the moon’s light cycle. His large hand raised a yellowed handkerchief to his damp forehead, revealing the darkened fabric of his sweat stained underarm. He turned his wrist over to check the gold timepiece gleaming on top of a bramble of dark hair. “Yeah. Alright.”
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Chapter 5: Earthset
“So what is earthset?” Regan asked hesitantly between bites of her microwaved grilled cheese sandwich.
“It’s when the moon casts a shadow over the Earth,” Buzz explained, wiping his hands on the ankles of his jumpsuit.
“And that’s in ten days?” Regan was trying to understand the significance without sounding as stupid as she felt.
“Well,” Andy sat down at the table with his own sandwich. “Earthset lasts 177 hours on average. About a week. The earth is full right now, so Pierre probably meant there are ten days before there isn’t enough light to work.”
“So how long will it stay dark?” Steve asked, staring at the window on the ceiling.
“177 hours,” Andy explained. “Except for about eight hours when the sun moves across the sky. It’s the same as the phases of the moon we see on Earth, but since the moon has no rotation, Earth will always be right in front of us. It will just move back and forth and closer and farther away a little.”
“Oh,” Regan said. She put down her sandwich and sat back. It never occurred to her that she should learn all this before the mission. She figured it would be covered extensively in class. “So is it 28 days like the phases of the moon?”
“More or less,” Buzz shrugged.
Chaplin crossed the room and laid on the floor next to her bed. After digging around her trunk for a few minutes, she returned to the table with a sheet of thick art paper and blue and black colored pencils.
“Great idea!” Regan exclaimed, pushing the paper and pencils in front of Buzz.
“What?” Buzz asked, looking from Regan to Chaplin.
“A calendar,” Regan explained.
“It’s hard to guess where we are at this point.” Buzz said. He pointed up at the Earth visible in the window above them. “The Earth should be full for three or four days.”
Chaplin sighed deeply and took the paper and pencils back. She laid on her stomach in the center of the room and began drawing a grid of seven by four boxes. In upper left square she drew a circle and filled it in with the blue pencil and labeled it Day One. She drew the same blue circle in the next box and wrote Day Two. Chaplin walked around the room trying to decide where to leave them, and finally decided they would be safe on top of the microwave for the time being.
Pierre appeared in the doorway drinking a can of soda.
Marc looked at monitor. It was 1:45; a little over an hour had passed. Just enough time for them to take turns heating up their sandwiches, eat, and use the bathroom. He wondered how much longer they would be working. Installing lights was not physically or mentally demanding, but it was repetitious and divided the group into several rooms. If the goal was preventing cohesion, Marc guessed they would work late and return to the dorm too exhausted to socialize.
“Let’s check out those rooms,” Pierre said. His voice was less stern than it had been that morning. It sounded almost supportive. He held the door open as Marc, Regan, Buzz, Andy, and Steve walked into the hallway, and watched Chaplin retie her boots without comment.
Rune sidled up to Pierre. She tilted her head to the floor and gazed up at him with her brilliant green eyes.
“I wanted to apologize for this morning,” Rune spoke in a quiet, almost childish voice. She fidgeted with her hands behind her back. “I’m really going to try my best from now on. Look, I collected all the garbage in one place.”
Rune pointed to a magskid in the hallway. Pierre surveyed the large pile of flattened boxes that had accumulated from setting up the dorm room and installing the first hallway of lights.
“That’s great,” Pierre said as he inched away from her. He looked over her elegant blonde head at the disheveled girl lacing her boots. “Uh, how are you doing there? Almost done?”
Chaplin popped up from the floor and Rune was forced to move into the hallway with the rest of the group. She grabbed the handles of the magskid and looked back at the large man.
“Should I bring this with us?” Rune said. She hit the power switch without looking and the pile of packaging rose a few inches off the ground.
“Drop it off in the lobby.” Pierre said. His voice regained its edge; he was beginning to feel irritated by Rune’s sudden eagerness to please. “We’ll deal with it later.”
The team marched back to the hallway of rooms. Pierre systematically entered each room, turned the lights on, and looked at each fixture carefully. Five sconces, all of which had been installed by Steve, needed to be secured more closely to the wall. Pierre was otherwise pleased with their work.
“Eight rooms in four hours.” Pierre’s smooth head bobbed in approval. “Not a bad pace to start off. Let’s get twelve more finished before dinner. Little guy, Chico, and blonde girl come get more supplies. The rest of you tighten those fixtures.”
Andy and Marc did not need to look at the others to know Pierre meant them. Marc didn’t love his nickname, but had been called worse in his life. Andy appeared completely unfazed, and pushed the empty magskid as they followed Pierre back to the lobby. Rune walked quickly, brushing past the boys so she could reach the the lobby before them and reclaim her pile of refuse.
Looking around the area for the first time, Marc noticed the assortment of doors and entryways bordering the grandiose room. He thought of the lobby of the hotel where he stayed with his mother and sister the night before the launch, comprised of a small room that hosted a continental breakfast and a walk-in closet referred to as the gift shop. He tried to imagine the amenities that would eventually fill the rooms around him.
Instead of walking through the glass doorway they used on the previous day, Pierre tapped the black device to unlock a nondescript gray door. Inside, harsh white lights flickered on, illuminating a maze of shelves packed tightly with boxes. Handwritten signs on faded yellow legal paper dappled the cardboard rows. Rune followed closely behind Pierre, pushing the pallet of discarded boxes toward a row of large yellow machines on the opposite side of the warehouse.
“These are the waste depositories.” Pierre explained. “There’s no landfill up here. All the trash needs to be sorted according to how it’s gonna be turned into fuel. Natural waste like food, plastics, or paper. Metal and glass gets collected in this bin.”
He pointed to a green bin the size of a car trunk at the end of the row of machines. It was empty except for three thick shards of glass.
“Go ahead and sort that into piles, and I’ll show you how to work the machines,” Pierre directed Rune. He turned to Andy and Marc. “Let’s get you set up for the rest of the day.”
Rune went to work separating the cardboard from the small plastic bags that held the hardware used to install lights that morning. She knew the faster she worked, the more time she would have to investigate the warehouse and learn more about the man who currently controlled her life. Power is everything. She repeated the mantra she learned as a child in the first level of sacred studies. It had been five years since her father renounced their faith and they began attending a deprogramming support group. Still, there were some lessons too valuable to ignore, and power was one of them.
After five minutes of rapid sorting, Rune threw the last pieces of plastic onto their pile and looked around the room. Pierre’s voice could be heard instructing Andy and Marc deep within a row of inventory. She set off in the opposite direction, walking briskly along a row of steel doors. Each was clearly labeled with white writing on a black, square plaque. Distribution, Phasic Energy Reservoir, Electrical Grid, Laundry, Water Treatment, Greenhouse. At the very end she found a door that had been left slightly ajar. Office.
Rune peered inside before stepping in. Above a cluttered desk, a monitor cycled between views of Regan and Chaplin standing around a sconce in one room, Steve leaning against a wall watching Buzz work in another, and Marc and Andy loading supplies onto magskids. Turning her body sideways, she walked through the gap without moving the door.
A white light on the ceiling automatically powered on, emitting a steady buzz. The room smelled like the staff lounge at her school--a mixture of several cuisines, stale coffee, and mildew. An unmade bed was positioned between a shower stall and a microwave placed atop a modest refrigerator. Rune moved closer to examine a pink heart taped to the fridge. A colorful stick figure family stood beneath a crescent moon.
“I love you, Daddy.” Rune read the block letters below the drawing to herself.
“You find what you’re looking for?” Pierre snarled. He was standing so close behind Rune that she felt her hair brush against him as she whipped around.
“I was looking for you!” The preconceived explanation tumbled out. Her heart pounded. “I finished sorting the packaging, and I guess I took a wrong turn. Did your daughter draw this for you?”
Rune took a step back, positioning herself beside him and pointed at the pink heart.
“Yeah.” Pierre stared her down.
“I love kids,” Rune continued, in an attempt to temper the confrontation. She smiled sweetly at his scowling face. “I bet she’s going to grow up to be a great artist. How old is she?”
“Eight when I left.” Pierre sighed and plopped down on the chair by his desk. He picked up a framed photograph and looked at it for a moment before offering it to Rune. A pregnant woman stood next to a muscular man with a child clinging to his leg. His hairline had barely begun to recede from his forehead. “They’re fourteen and five now.”
“You must really miss them.” Rune studied the happy family for a moment, preparing to sound casual when she asked the baited question. “How often do you get to call them?”
Pierre snatched the photograph from her and returned it to the desk.
“Let’s go.” He stood up, signaling the end of their conversation.
Rune exited the room without further question. She understood that breaking Pierre would take time. She did not push her agenda while he taught her to use the waste management machines or during the walk back through the lobby. Today’s progress was sufficient. She found Pierre’s room, discovered what he loved, and positioned herself to return to the warehouse at least once a day.
Power is everything. Rune repeated in her head. And I’ll be talking to Dad by earthset.
#moon camp#mooncamp#moon#camp#ya#ya lit#ya literature#space#literature#novel#chapter 5#chapter five#earthset
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Chapter 4: Day Two
An octave of gentle, low-pitched chimes rang steadily four times in the dormitory. The monitor above the door displayed the words WAKE UP CALL above a clock that read 7:45 AM.
Andy stood up and walked to the bathroom. Everyone else remained in bed.
Four steady chimes sounded again, this time the clock read 8:00 AM.
“Oh my god,” moaned Rune. She rolled away from the monitor. “We get it.”
Marc stumbled down from his bed and untwisted the elastic waist on his red shorts. He waved limply at Andy who was seated at the beige folding table with a bowl of food, already dressed in a crisp navy jumpsuit, and neatly parted his short, sandy hair above his left eyebrow. Marc fumbled through the jumpsuits in the closet, chose a size large and lumbered into the bathroom to begin his morning routine.
Regan entered the bathroom moments later with a jumpsuit and a towel thrown over her shoulder. Marc recognized the signs of a sleepless night. The skin around her eyes was swollen with exhaustion. Her hair stuck out in odd directions away from her face.
“Shower,” she muttered to him as she slid the frosted glass door behind her.
Marc was uncomfortable hearing the running water of the shower, knowing Regan stood naked just a few feet away. He hurriedly pulled his jumpsuit over his sleep clothes and finished at the sink.
Andy was still the only one awake in the room when Marc exited the bathroom.
“I left the box of oatmeal on the counter,” Andy said between bites.
“What flavor?” Buzz asked from his bed.
“Oatmeal flavored.”
“That’s the worst flavor.” Buzz sat up and stretched his thick arms in front of him.
Marc chuckled and followed the microwave instructions on the box. While it heated, he found a fresh jumpsuit in his size and pulled it over his shorts and undershirt. He zipped it up on the way back to the microwave, then sat down with his bowl in front of him and closed his eyes.
“The shower’s free.” Regan announced. Her jumpsuit was half unzipped, flashing a crisp white top. She had pulled her hair behind a white headband, revealing diamond earrings that sparkled every so often when the light hit them. “What’s that? Cereal?”
“Oatmeal,” Andy responded. “Oatmeal-flavored oatmeal.”
“Great,” Regan laughed. “Coffee?”
“In the cabinet next to the freezer,” Rune groaned from her bed. Blankets were still pulled over her head, protesting the early wake up call.
“I’ll make you some,” Regan offered. “Anyone else?”
Chaplin peered from behind her purple scarf and nodded. She was still wearing the jumpsuit she had on the previous day. Her hair was more wild than the day before, and the addition of oversized reading glasses made her appear even stranger.
“I guess we know who the morning people are,” Marc said.
“Five a.m. ice time,” Regan shrugged.
“Soccer practice,” Marc nodded knowingly.
Steve climbed out of bed wearing nothing but tight black briefs. He stretched his arms above his head, flexing defined stomach muscles. Buzz stopped short as he exited the bathroom, looking at the Adonis and then down at his own baggy flannel pants. Steve grabbed two jumpsuits from the closet.
“This one’s for you, buddy.” Steve tossed the larger of the jumpsuits at Buzz as he passed him and entered the bathroom.
“Thanks.” Buzz’s cheeks flushed and he returned to the bathroom to change.
Four steady chimes announced it was 8:15.
Rune resigned herself to the fact that she had to wake up. She reached under her bed and pulled out a large cosmetics bag. She carefully wrapped a short silk kimono around herself and glided to the bathroom.
Chaplin made her way to the kitchen where Regan handed her a hot cup of coffee. Chaplin emptied a packet of instant oatmeal into the cup and mixed the two with her finger. She slumped into a chair at the table, drank from the cup and looked around at everyone.
“Coffee flavored oatmeal.” Marc’s voice sounded more impressed than surprised. He smiled warmly at Chaplin. “Smart.”
Buzz returned from the bathroom dressed for the day and prepared his oatmeal.
“What do you think we’ll be doing?” he asked the table.
“Whatever keeps us from being sucked into space,” Regan replied solemnly from behind her coffee mug. She placed it on the table and stared at the Omnicore logo.
They sat silently, replaying the moment of terror from the night before.
Buzz ran his fingers through his curly, black hair as he looked around the table. He never imagined science camp would be enticing to the teenage elite. He felt like a stuffed animal thrown into a box full of action figures. Everyone seemed to draw strength from the quiet, and he wondered if he would be relegated to the position of goofy sidekick who was constantly in need of rescue.
“Get out!” Rune screamed from the bathroom.
Steve hopped out with a towel wrapped low on his hips, laughing.
“There aren’t any paparazzi up here!” He shouted to the bathroom door. He grabbed Buzz’s oatmeal from the microwave and brought the bowl directly to his lips. After chewing thoughtfully for a moment, he put the bowl in Buzz’s hand. “Most important meal of the day, am I right?”
Before anyone could respond, the hallway door swung open. Pierre entered the room swinging a large metal toolbox, a clipboard wedged under his armpit. He walked to the center of the room and looked around at the furniture the team assembled. His eyes fell on Steve, who was still in the kitchen, wrapped in a towel and smiling.
Rune emerged from the bathroom in her kimono, hair cascading down her shoulders in glossy, blond waves. Her green eyes widened as she caught sight of Pierre. She blushed through the foundation she meticulously applied to appear casual, her accented lips gaped open.
Pierre looked at the gold watch on his hairy wrist, then up at the monitor. The tool box crashed to the floor. He seemed to grow several inches as he stood up straight and squared his shoulders.
“When I said be ready at 8:30, I meant ready for work,” he growled. “Not the prom!”
Steve positioned himself in front of Rune and took a couple of steps toward Pierre. He sighed dramatically, shaking his head in disapproval.
“I tried to tell her, boss,” Steve put on a charming smile.
“Knock it off, Calvin Klein!” Pierre shot back. “I gave you fourteen hours to adjust. My welcome gift to you. You’ve got sixty seconds to get your asses into the hallway. The rest of you, come with me and count down. 60. 59. 58. 57...”
Pierre picked up the toolbox and gestured for the others to follow him into the hallway. They counted along as they stood up and made their way out of the room. Chaplin grabbed her work boots from the closet and fumbled to put them on as she walked. Regan turned around in time to see Rune throwing her clothes on the floor as she ran to the closet.
“Louder, so they can hear you!” Pierre demanded. “27. 26. 25. 24...”
The kids stood in a clump in the hallway a few feet from the door. Even Chaplin counted loudly, worried about the valuable seconds on the line.
Steve and Rune practically fell as they rushed through the doorway with nine seconds left. The other students fell silent, listening to the two panting as they caught their breath.
“Let me make this abundantly clear,” Pierre lowered his voice but the tone remained powerful, rumbling like thunder from an approaching storm. He looked each of the teenagers in the face. “Time isn’t money. Time is time. Trust me. I’ve been up here six years. Grab those pallets and follow me.”
Andy and Marc pushed the magskids as the group followed Pierre through the lobby. He turned on an industrial work light which stood at the beginning of a dark corridor, then continued walking past four hallways that extended perpendicularly. When they reached the end of the corridor, he illuminated another work light to reveal a series of partially opened doors.
“Come on,” Pierre pushed open the first of these doors the rest of the way and held it in place with his large, hairy arm.
The pale grey walls reflected blue light that shone through the circular window in the center of the empty room. It was a great deal smaller than the dorm room, but the students were able to fit as they stood cautiously close to one another. Pierre entered behind them with a box he had taken from one of the skids and handed it to Andy, who happened to be closest to him.
“Walls, ceiling, electric, and plumbing. Here’s the blueprint.” Pierre extended the clipboard to Regan and tapped it twice. He reached backward and flipped a light switch near the door, then one in the adjacent bathroom. “I set up the lights in here last night. The rooms are identical. You should get the hang of it and pick up momentum.”
Regan studied the four frosted glass globes installed on the walls of the room. She imagined a king-sized bed in the center, and understood why there would be a series of identical rooms. Without thinking, she whispered “Hotel rooms.”
Wrinkles formed above Pierre’s eyes. He scowled and nodded, but appeared impressed by Regan’s deduction.
“We’ve got 118 of them. And Earthset is in ten days.” Pierre wiped the sweat of his forehead with the back of his hand. “Any questions?”
“What time is lunch?” Marc asked, knowing his morning oatmeal would not sustain him more than a couple of hours.
“Here,” Pierre tossed Marc a dark yellow device the size of a stack of credit cards. “Use this aircom to call me when you finish the first two pallets and we’ll see about lunch.”
Familiar quiet returned when Pierre left the room. Andy opened the box to find two light fixtures and various screws and brackets. Regan flipped through the pages on the clipboard, not knowing what to make of the diagrams they displayed. Marc moved next to her and looked on.
“What do you think?” he asked Regan.
“Well,” she replied, turning back to the blueprint on top. “I guess I don’t know.”
“Could I take a look?” Marc said, shrugging.
“Why?” Steve’s voice cracked as he spoke for the first time since the humbling countdown. “Do you have a part-time job at Home Depot?”
Regan rolled her eyes and handed Marc the clipboard. He ran his finger over the wiring detailed on the first page, then looked around the room. He walked up to one of the sconces, examined it closely, then ran his finger around it. Marc walked into the hallway and picked up the black metal toolbox Pierre had left behind.
“Hey Andy,” he called back. “Bring that light next door?”
It took all of five minutes for Marc to teach himself how to install his first sconce, even with Andy standing closely behind him. He stepped back to check his work, then flipped the light switch to test the wiring.
“Whoa,” Regan said from the doorway. “That was quick.”
“It’s not so bad.” Marc shrugged. “I’ll show you guys how. Hit the light.”
Marc explained the process as he ran through the steps with Andy and Regan. Andy absorbed the information quickly, and offered to teach Buzz in the next room. Chaplin brought another box to Marc and watched as Regan installed her first light, taking her time to complete each step carefully.
“Great job!” Marc said, high-fiving Regan. “Why don’t you two set up shop in another room?”
A huge smile spread across her face. Regan relished her accomplishment. There was a sense of security that went hand in hand with being able to complete a task. Usually, this feeling accompanied a perfect score on a test or winning a point for her debate team. Right now, correctly installing a light fixture proved her worth as a member of this group of castaways. She felt important.
Marc went back to the hallway to grab another box of lights and heard someone sniffling. He saw Steve and Rune huddled together on the floor of the first room. Marc weighed his options. It was clear the two knew each other, and maybe they needed a few more minutes alone before they felt ready to start work. He could give them a few more minutes. On the other hand, he did not want them to feel like nobody cared enough to see if they were okay.
Steve noticed Marc standing at the door, pretending to read the label on the box of light fixtures. He nudged Rune, who quickly stood up and folded her arms in front of her. Although her makeup was remarkably intact, darkened spots on the sleeve of her jumpsuit betrayed the illusion that she had not been crying. Marc’s stomach dropped when he realized he was intruding on a moment she intended to be private.
“You ready for us?” Steve asked as though he had taken a number and was simply waiting for his turn.
“Sure,” Marc replied. He was slightly irritated that the two needed an invitation to begin working, but was beginning to realize the extend of culture shock they were experiencing. He wondered if the two had ever worked before or if they had ever been yelled at. “I’ll show you how to install the fixtures. I think we’re making pretty good progress.”
“I don’t know how much help I’ll be,” Rune said. She looked at Marc skeptically.
“I’ll bet you’re pretty smart,” Marc replied. “I mean, you were accepted into this program, right? That was no accident.”
“She’s smart enough to never have to do any work,” Steve joked. He stood beside her and gave her a rough pat on the back. “I’ve never seen her open a book.”
Rune rolled her green eyes and walked out of the room past Marc.
Marc demonstrated installing the light fixture as he had with the others. Steve looked on intently, while Rune began breaking down the cardboard boxes strewn across the room. She could hear the two guys speaking, but they were drowned out by her racing thoughts. Her father would be on a meditation retreat for the next week. There would be no way to contact him, even if she did have a way to call.
Without realizing it, she wandered into the next room where Buzz and Andy were working in the bathroom. Andy asked something, she wasn’t sure what. She felt herself say “Mmhmm,” as she took apart their empty boxes and flattened them. She wondered how Pierre contacted Earth. His first impression of her was not the best, but at least she looked good. Rune remembered he had been on the moon six years. Surely, he was lonely.
“Rune.”
Steve’s voice pulled her out of her internal deliberation. She was standing beside a large pile of flattened boxes on one of the magskids.
“What’s up?” Rune forced the smile she had been practicing since she was a small child.
“Time for lunch,” Steve motioned to the rest of the group walking away.
Rune powered up the magskid and pushed it down the hallway. She had a plan.
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Chapter 3: Settling In
“Where are we?” Rune said. She slumped down on the white tiled floor.
“The fucking moon.” The California prep boy mimicked Pierre’s deep, raspy voice.
“Shut up, Steve!” She spat back.
His face reflected a mixture of guilt and indignation as he rolled his eyes and looked away from Rune. Steve also looked much younger now that he was separated from his designer apparel and luxury sports car. And, unlike Rune, he looked rather ordinary.
Marc removed his bulky flightsuit and tossed it into the corner. He looked down at the navy blue jumpsuit he was now dressed in. Thick white socks stuck out from pants gathered by elastic around his ankles. Two long, diagonal slits led to large empty pockets on each of his hips. A matching blue plastic zipper ran the center of his torso up to his neck, past the Omnicore logo over the left side of his chest. He looked around the room. The others were still frozen in a state of shock, searching for a way to understand what was happening. Marc rolled the long sleeves of the jumpsuit up to his elbows, grabbed a white cooler from one of the magskids and carried it to the fridge.
“What are you doing?” Regan asked quietly.
“Unpacking the food,” Marc replied without looking. Inside the cooler he found neatly stacked dark green boxes adorned with a white logo of a seedling over the brand name Honest Fields. Marc flipped over the top box and read the microwave instructions for Thai Chicken and Vegetable Medley. One by one, he stacked sixteen identical Thai Chicken boxes into what turned out to be an industrial-sized freezer. A plastic ice tray sat half filled on the top shelf. Marc placed it on the counter next to him and said, “I’m pretty thirsty. Could one of you see if there are any cups around?”
“Seriously?” Rune said, looking up from the floor as tears streamed down her now blotchy cheeks. Her voice strained with a mixture of anger and despair. “He just killed that girl! You’re just going to start unpacking like nothing happened?”
Marc transferred the remaining contents of the box into the freezer, then closed the door and looked back at Rune. The image of Jennifer crying in front of the aerospace terminal flashed through his mind. He took a deep breath,pushing down the lump he felt creeping up his throat.
“When my dad died, I felt like my whole world had ended.” Marc gripped the freezer handle so tightly the knuckles on his hand blanched. He forced his voice to remain steady. “I didn’t want to go anywhere or do anything or talk to anyone. It just seemed pointless. And my mom just kept going to work every day and cooking and nagging me about my homework. She kept us moving forward.”
The round-faced teen stared at Marc intently, then glanced at the despondent girl slumped on the floor. His hands fumbled behind his back. He removed his heavy flight suit and threw it on top of Marc’s. He opened one of the largest boxes they had removed from the ship and pulled out a tightly rolled foam pad.
“I think I found a bed,” he said, pulling a long strip of plastic from the box.
“Great.” Marc walked over to the box and pulled out a clear bag with brackets and screws. “Think you can figure out how to put these things together… um…?”
“Buzz.” His round face forced a smile,causing his cheeks to dimple. “Yeah.”
Andy tossed his own flightsuit on the pile, then walked over to Buzz and helped slide pieces of the bed frame from the box.
Regan nodded to herself, removed her own flightsuit, folded it neatly and placed it on top of the others. The navy jumpsuit beneath was a poor fit for her figure, stretching tightly across her chest and lower torso while sagging everywhere else. She moved the zipper on the front of her jumpsuit down a few inches and fanned her neck. Scanning the room, she spotted the pale, raven-haired girl whose glassy eyes were fixed on the window above her. Regan walked toward the girl and quietly asked, “You okay?”
The pale girl nodded slowly, drawing shallow breaths through her nose and pursing her lips tightly. Her hands trembled as she unzipped the bulky flightsuit and slid it down her incredibly thin frame. Regan took the garment from the floor and folded it neatly.
“I didn’t catch your name. I’m Regan.”
Instead of responding, the girl used her small, shaking hands to take out the tight braid woven against her head. Her hair fell around her neck in frizzy waves.
“Yeah.” Regan laughed and turned to Rune who remained on the floor. “I guess we must look like sister wives, huh, Rune.”
“Where’s my luggage?” She mumbled to herself as she stood up.
“Found ‘em!” Steve declared triumphantly, pulling two plastic tumblers from a box. He tossed one across the room to Marc, who caught it effortlessly with one hand.
“Sweet,” Marc said. He held the navy cup under the kitchen faucet and a stream of clear water flowed into the sink. Marc filled the cup halfway then emptied it in a single gulp.
Steve hopped onto the dark blue kitchen counter and filled his own cup with water. He closed one eye and looked into the blue tumbler, then held it up to his nose and sniffed it before taking a small sip.
“It’s just water, Steve,” Rune said as she peered over the mirror she was using to apply her lipstick. “You’re not at a vineyard.”
“And what are you doing to help, Miss America?” Steve asked before downing the rest of the water.
“Tall, dark, and handsome over there is right.” Rune replied cooly, dabbing makeup around her eyes. “We need to find some sense of normalcy up here. It will take at least a few days for someone to come get us, and I’m not going to look like some Resicaid girl while we wait.”
“His name is Marc,” Regan said, her eyebrows raised in disapproval of Rune’s backhanded compliment. “And I think you missed his point. We need to work together. We don’t have a way to contact Earth. It could be more than a few days before anyone checks on us.”
“Right,” Steve said. He slid off the counter and marched to the center of the room and put his hands on his hips. “How are those beds coming, guys?”
Andy unrolled the foam mattress and laid it across the lower shelf of the first bunk bed he and Buzz had finished building. The foam expanded quickly, and a pillow shaped mound appeared at one end. Steve pulled at one leg of the bed, testing its stability, then lay down.
“Great job.” He said from his reclined position. He crossed his ankles and put his hands behind his head. “There should be three more of these. Why don’t you two work on those.”
Steve got up and patted Buzz firmly on the back. He turned to Rune, who was concentrating on applying black mascara to her blonde eyelashes.
“Rune, go ahead and finish unpacking that box of kitchen supplies I found.” He ordered with the casual authority of someone raised by a household staff.
She rolled her eyes in her mirror, but began putting her cosmetics away in a tan leather pouch. Steve turned his attention to the other girls.
“Regan, right? And you are….” Steve looked at the skeptical expression on the pale girl’s face. He flashed a well-practiced smile, bright blue eyes waiting expectantly for her to return his flirtations, but was met with an equally well-rehearsed deadpan stare. After a moment, Steve broke and gently tussled her frizzy black hair. “That’s okay, Charlie Chaplin. We’ll get to know each other tomorrow. Why don’t you ladies see what else is in these boxes.”
“Steve,” Marc called from the kitchen. “I finished unpacking all the food. Want to help me put together another set of beds?”
“Good thinking, Marc. I was just about to suggest that myself.”
Steve and Marc pulled one of the large boxes into an unoccupied corner of the room. Marc opened the box and tossed the clear bag of screws and brackets to Steve, who was unzipping his jumpsuit to the middle of his chest. Steve tossed it up and down in his hand and watched Marc continue to empty the contents of the box.
“We should probably start by building the overall frame of the bed, don’t you think?” Steve asked almost rhetorically.
“Actually,” Buzz explained, looking up from his work on the second set of beds. “You’ve got to put the bed platforms together first, then attach them to the legs of the bunk bed.”
“Oh, sure.” Steve nodded knowingly. His hands returned to his hips. “I was thinking about the frame and module construction method they’re using all over Sweden right now. You could say I’m more of a big picture kind of guy.”
Marc smiled to himself as he pulled the remaining pieces of plastic from the box. He had organized them on the floor according to size.
“See, I can tell you’re good at the details, Marc!” Steve crouched down to inspect the parts. “I’ve always admired that in people.”
Marc sat on the floor and snapped the plastic pieces of the bed platforms together while Steve looked on.
On the other side of the room, Regan and Chaplin were unpacking a large box of long sleeved jumpsuits. Chaplin sat on the floor unzipping the top, sliding a grey plastic hanger in and handing it up to Regan, who arranged them by size on the rod in the closet.
“You know, my dad’s parents grew up on Resicaid,” Regan said, worried that Rune’s earlier comment had upset Chaplin. She had thought about saying something at the time, but hadn’t wanted to risk alienating herself on the first day. At the same time, Regan knew what it felt like to be the poorest person in the room--even if that room was the auditorium of New York City’s most elite private school. “I volunteered as a summer camp counselor after freshman year. Down in Virginia. It felt so great working with those kids. I learned so much.”
Chaplin looked up and smiled for the first time. Regan swelled with pride.
The room came together quickly. Empty boxes were stacked high next to the closet. Around nine o’clock, Steve declared they should all have dinner together. They found this was nearly impossible as frozen dinners needed to be microwaved individually for six minutes. Rune decided she would take a long shower and Marc reclined on a top bunk pumping air into his soccer ball while he waited for a turn at the microwave. Chaplin sat on a lower bunk looking through her trunk and removed a dark purple silk scarf. She draped it over the plastic frame, providing her a small amount of privacy from the others, and silently retreated behind it.
Buzz, Regan, Andy, and Steve sat at the dining table with their entrees. They decided they should each choose something different. Regan made the unfortunate selection of Salisbury steak, and was pushing brown globs around the tray. Andy generously gave her one of his three enchiladas, which had slightly more appetizing red cylindrical globs.
“Why do you think we’re here?” Buzz asked no one in particular.
His question was met with silence. It hung in the air as the group went through the motions of eating and getting ready for bed.
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Chapter 2: Arrival
Marc opened his eyes several times during the flight - once when he heard the sonic boom of the shuttle breaking the sound barrier, and again to look at the large helmets on either side of him. Each time he awakened after that he noticed the gray circle in the front window get larger until it wasn’t a circle at all, but a series of circular shadows.
Destination arrival in approximately five minutes. Please prepare for landing.
The calm female voice brought Marc out of his sleep as a flight attendant would on any airplane. He was embarrassed to have slept the entire flight, afraid that he missed the opportunity to befriend the other students.
“What the hell?” A younger female voice sounded irate through the speakers in his helmet. “How long have I been asleep for? We’re there already?”
“We’ve all been asleep,” yawned a scratchy young male voice. “Did everyone else take those pill this morning? The last thing I remember is two guys dragging me down a hallway.”
Marc remembered the round boy he saw before taking his own pill. “Yeah. I took it,” his voice hoarse as he spoke for the first time. “I didn’t even ask what it was.”
“Roofies,” chimed in a deeper male voice.
“Ugh. Figures,” returned the young female voice.
The passengers fell silent, stretching their arms in front of them and turning to look at one another. Circles of blue-gray glass glittered on the moon’s surface. As the shuttle made its final approach, Marc realized the glass was reflecting the distant blue, brown and green textures of Earth.
Passengers, ensure you are completely fastened in your seat, facing forward with your head pressed back.
Immense pressure pinned the students backward in their seats as the shuttle nosedived toward two strips of red, blinking lights shining on the moon’s surface. A girl’s scream was drowned out by a loud hum and the rattling of whatever held the space plane together. There was a hard bounce as they hit the runway before coasting across the smooth surface, sloping downward into a hatch that had raised to allow entrance to the base.
Please remain seated with your helmets on while we prepare for departure.
They sat in darkness listening to a steady high-pitched beeping while the entry door lowered back into place. There was loud click from outside the shuttle followed by the sound of air sweeping over their ship a high velocity.
“We hope you have enjoyed this once-in-a-lifetime nap,” the scratchy voiced boy mimicked the faceless flight attendant’s overly pleasant voice. “We at Omnicore know you have a choice when you travel and we--”
Light flooded the shuttle. Marc squeezed his burning eyes shut.
You may now take off your helmet and gloves. Release your harnesses by pressing the buttons on your shoulders and knees. Move slowly as you exit the shuttle as your body may be temporarily weakened by the flight.
Marc removed his puffy gloves and blindly ran his fingers across his chest until they found the buttons on his shoulder. His upper body slumped forward before he realized he had pressed the buttons. There were moans of pain throughout the cabin. Marc released his leg restraints and strained every muscle in his body to stand up. Leaning against the chair, he opened his eyes and looked at the rest of the cabin. No one else had stood up. He felt for the release clasp he was trained to use the previous day and took off his helmet. “Everyone OK?”
“What’s with all the gravity?” Marc saw the face of the girl sitting beside him for the first time as she removed her own helmet. Sweat rolled down the smooth dark skin of her cheek. She wiped away the moisture with one of her fingers and smiled. “Was I supposed to pay extra to experience weightlessness?”
She released her harnesses and waved away Marc’s hand offering to help her up.
He moved toward the door that had opened at the back of the ship and suddenly noticed how dry his mouth felt. He turned around to check on the rest of the students and was startled to see a different girl standing directly behind him. She was significantly shorter than him and the evenly cut bangs on her forehead made her look like a life-sized porcelain doll. They made eye contact, and her dark, almond shaped eyes were so full of determination that Marc considered moving to allow her to exit first. But there was no space in the small cabin as the other students queued to disembark. He moved down the chrome staircase, attempting to appear calmer than he actually felt.
“Alright! First man on the moon camp!” Marc cheered, throwing his hands above his head as though he had scored a game winning goal.
Their shuttle took up most of the cavernous space bordered by drag concrete walls. A man who appeared equally uninteresting plodded across the hanger pushing two flatbed skids that floated in front of him. He wore the standard middle-management uniform of khaki pants and a white dress shirt, both of which strained to contain his hefty physique. He paused in front of the students who were now gathered at the back of the shuttle and used a yellowed handkerchief to wipe the clammy bald spot on his head.
“Welcome to Moon Camp,” the man forced a toothless grin and read off a piece of paper. “I’m Edward Pierre, your program director. On behalf of Omnicore, we look forward to the scientific advancements in phase two of Project Lunar. Applau-- Oh.”
The pale, dark haired girl Marc watched disappear into the terminal before their flight clapped apathetically, causing several of the others to snicker.
“Right,” sighed Pierre. He crumbled the paper and stuffed it in his pocket. “Let’s unload the shuttle. This side should be your stuff.”
Pierre tapped a black, plastic circle the size of a bottle cap against the side of the shuttle and a hatch lowered slowly, revealing dozens of boxes of various sizes. He grabbed the largest of these and hoisted it onto the skid which bounced slightly inches from the ground.
“Get started on this and I’ll grab a couple more magskids,” Pierre barked as he walked away.
Marc marched forward and grabbed a large box. It was heavier than Pierre made it look and his weakened muscles caused him to drop on the magskid with a large thud. He turned to hide his blushing face from the other students and grabbed another large box.
“Wow. You’re really into this,” a pleasant voice came from behind him. The young woman who had been seated next to Marc on the shuttle smiled and leaned her back against the shuttle.
“Oh yeah!” he dropped the box on the magskid as smoothly as he could. “I’m gonna be the moon camp champ!”
“I’m Regan,” she said as she stood up and extended her hand.
“What’s up, Regan? I’m Marc.” He smiled and extended a navy blue case labeled DAVIS to her.
“That one’s mine!” another girl exclaimed as she rushed over. Marc barely recognized the woman he had seen standing with her father back in Florida. She was still beautiful, but looked much younger in a bulky white spacesuit, hair braided tightly against her head and not a trace of makeup. Her dark green eyes twinkled as she smiled sweetly at Marc and ran her fingers over his as she took the box from him. “I’m Rune.”
“I’m Andy,” said a boy with neatly combed short, blonde hair as he grabbed a box and heaved it onto the magskid. He was much also smaller than Marc, who was surprised his wiry frame could handle the heavy cargo.
A round faced boy with a mop of curly black hair hung back and turned to the doll-like student with determined eyes.
“Does any of this seem strange to you?” He asked quietly.
“Nope,” she replied cooly. “Just normal first day of camp stuff.”
Pierre returned with two more magskids and helped the group unload the rest of the cargo. He led them through two large steal doors which automatically parted to allow them entry to a massive lobby. Blue light bounced off glossy white tiles on the floor and flooded the whole room in a mesmerizing glow.
“Whoa,” Regan exhaled as she froze in her tracks.
The students paused and followed Regan’s gaze upward. The Earth shone brightly through a single pane of crystal clear plastic that extended across the entire ceiling. Everyone stood silently transfixed. It was substantially larger than the moon appeared from Earth. White clouds sat peacefully atop shades of blue and tan, more vibrant than any colors they had seen before.
“I know,” said Pierre, bringing them back to reality. “It’s a shame you have to be this far away to see how beautiful she is.”
Pierre moved across the vast space, followed by the students who ambled slowly, still staring up. He tapped his black device on the wall next to a gray door accented with a long pane of blue glass which extended from top to bottom. White lights turned on as he pushed the door open and held it open for them to enter. Pale blue walls enclosed the space, which was no bigger than an average classroom. Nine circular windows the size of basketball hoops formed a grid on the ceiling, offering a much less impressive view than they had just seen.
“Here’s your dormitory.” Pierre said stoically.
The students looked around, dumbfounded at the mostly empty room. A kitchen area was set up in one corner with a sink, microwave, dishwasher, and refrigerator. Rune opened the door to a bathroom area with two stalls and a shower area. Regan opened the only other door which revealed an empty closet.
“Where are the beds?” The California prep school boy asked.
Pierre tapped his palm on the top of a box twice.
“Excuse me?” Rune scoffed.
“You’ve got everything you need right here,” Pierre shrugged. “Courtesy of Omnicore.”
“Wait. What?” The round face beneath black tendrils of hair looked puzzled, but amused.
“Sharing a room with teenaged boys?” Regan shook her head disapprovingly.
“Oh yeah,” California Prep grinned and elbowed Andy in the side.
The petite girl’s dark eyes narrowed as shecrossed her arms and shifted her weight to one hip. Marc recognized the stance of a woman about to put someone in their place. “No. This is unacceptable,” she said tersely.
“Oh yeah?” Pierre chuckled. “Want to check into the five-star hotel down the street?”
“I am Liza Osaka, as in Osaka Industries. My grandfather paid for me to do groundbreaking research alongside the world’s best scientists, not to put furniture together.”
“I don’t know what to tell ya, sweetie.” Pierre said, his lips lowering into a terse frown.
“Where is the phone? I’m calling my grandfather.”
“If you want to reach Earth, your best bet is the room next door.” Pierre jerked his thumb toward the wall behind him.
Liza turned swiftly and stomped out of the room and into the hallway. She slammed the door behind her. It was followed by the swooshing sound they heard in the shuttle bay earlier.
“I guess she forgot. There are no phones,” Pierre turned and looked fiercely at the other students. “THIS IS THE FUCKING MOON.”
Rune gasped and pointed at the window above her head. Liza’s feet floated past and out of sight. Pierre continued yelling before anyone had a chance to speak.
“Build your beds! Get some sleep!” He pointed to a monitor mounted above the dormitory door which displayed the time. “Work starts at eight thirty! Be ready in your uniforms! And unpack those white coolers before all your food defrosts!”
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Chapter 1: Launch Day
The aerospace terminal looked as ominous as it had the previous day. Two stories of black windows set in dark concrete stretched a quarter mile on an otherwise empty campus. Marc Anthony Rodriguez had been expecting name tags, refreshments, and ice-breaker games forcing everyone to bond over shared humiliation. But he did not throw an imaginary ball of sound yesterday or even meet the rest of his team. Instead, orientation involved a final physical examination, trying on different space suits, and signing an endless pile of legal releases. He spent his final terrestrial night staring into the darkness of a stale hotel room, wondering if the other students had met months ago.
This fear continued to plague him as his mother, Maria drove their modest rental car around the cul de sac and stopped in front of the building’s entrance. They simultaneously sighed deeply, then began to laugh. She turned to her son and sighed, “Yeah.”
“Yeah.” Marc smiled and nodded. He could see that she was holding back a thousand last minute reminders, words of advice, sentiments of how proud she was, and how much she would miss him. She was good like that.
“Yeaaaah.” A ponytailed head pushed its way between the driver and passenger seat. “We’re finally getting rid of you.”
Marc smiled and rolled his tired, light brown eyes at his sister, Jennifer. Although she had grown about half a foot over the summer and was close to his own height, her goofy personality reflected the innocence she maintained. He placed his large, tan palm on her face and pushed her backward in brotherly obligation. She would be starting middle school next month, a mission Marc knew to be more perilous than conducting science experiments on with a group of honor students. The siblings had spent every morning of the last two months together, training for her soccer tryouts in September. It was Marc’s way of sublimating the guilt of abandoning his family.
The three walked to the trunk of their rental car which held the navy blue case Omnicore had provided him to pack personal belongings. It was presented with a contract which stipulated that no food, liquids, plants, animals, glass, drugs, or weapons could be packed. The thick plastic box was no bigger than the old air conditioner that rattled in the window of their economy hotel room last night, and very little space remained after Maria packed ten sets of meticulously folded underwear, undershirts, and socks. Marc used a handheld pump to mostly deflate a brand new soccer ball and placed both into the trunk. He threw in a hooded sweatshirt, a pair of jeans, a few of his favorite t-shirts, and after a great deal of maternal coercion, the suit he had worn to his interview for the program. On top sat a manilla envelope with a few photos.
A black limousine drove around the smooth asphalt cul de sac and stopped behind the Rodriguez’s rental car. The driver walked the length of the vehicle and took an identical case from the trunk. Marc’s heart pounded, excited to finally meet one of the people he would be spending the next ten months with, and ashamed of the obvious economic disparity.
This is it. He thought. You only get one first impression. Make them not care about the money thing. Hold your own. Be yourself and--
A thin teenager stepped out of the limo and immediately slammed the door behind her. Long black hair shrouded the features of her pale face. The driver smiled politely and handed her the case. She marched forward, her body slouched from the weight of the case, and disappeared into the tinted glass doors of the terminal without looking back.
Marc stopped in his tracks and sighed deeply. He felt his mother’s arm around his shoulder.
“You earned this,” She reminded him quietly. Her light brown eyes watered as he pulled her into a hug. Jen placed her brother’s case on the ground and wrapped her arms around both of them.
“God, Marc,” she said in a strained voice, holding back tears. “I know you can’t wear cologne for awhile, but that doesn’t mean you had to put ten months worth on this morning. You smell like Uncle Fredo.”
“Don’t listen to her,” laughed Maria. “You smell fine.”
Marc took a step back from the hug and looked at his sister. Tears streamed down her round cheeks, and she suddenly looked younger than she had all summer. He placed both his hands on her shoulders and shook her gently.
“Now, I know you’re spending the next few days riding rollercoasters and eating all the sugar in Florida, but after that it’s back to work. Run a mile each morning, practice those footwork drills, and work your way up to a hundred crunches. Show up to tryouts twenty minutes early and offer to help the coach set up.”
“Oh my god,” Jennifer smiled and rolled her eyes. “Just go already!”
She wrapped her arms around Marc, squeezed tightly, then rushed into the front seat of the car.
“She’ll be okay,” Maria reassured her son. “We’ll all be okay. Ten months will fly by before you know it. You won’t even want to come back.” She kissed him on the forehead and gave him a quick hug.
Marc picked up his case and whispered, “I love you, mom.”
“Te amo, mijo.”
The terminal’s lobby was bustling with employees. As he made his way to the reception area, Marc looked around for the dark-haired girl who exited the limo, but could not locate her. A man behind a curved black counter glowered at the teenager as he approached. The expensive black business suit did not diminish his hulking physique which towered over Marc’s own athletic six-foot frame.
“Name?” The man’s deep voice demanded.
“Marc Anthony Rodriguez.”
“Place your thumb on the scanner and look directly into the camera.”
Marc had gone through this procedure during orientation. The security officer yesterday, who looked more like a friendly mall security guard, had explained that Omnicore took every precaution to ensure the safety of all its staff. Today, Marc felt as though he was being assessed for potential threats he might pose to the company. The hulking security officer picked up the receiver of a black phone on his desk and dialed four digits while maintaining skeptical eye contact.
“Rodriguez arrived.” He informed whomever answered his call. He placed the phone back in its cradle and instructed “Stand here. They’ll be right with you.”
Marc nodded seriously and turned around slowly to face the doors he had entered through. A new limo had pulled up and a beautiful woman stood in front of it, talking to a gentleman in dark khaki shorts and a turquoise polo shirt. Marc might have thought she was someone’s mother, except that he could see a navy case sticking out of the oversized designer handbag on her shoulder. A red sports car sped around the cul de sac and stopped short directly behind the limo. The woman and gentleman looked at the car, then back at each other, and kissed each other twice on each cheek.
Out of the passenger seat of the sports car bounced the embodiment of the wealthy California prep school scene, his blonde hair and white teeth striking against bronze skin. The driver exited the car to greet the man and teenaged girl who had exited their limo.
“Marc?”
A honeyed voice pulled him from the scene outside. He turned around to see a pleasant middle-aged woman in a grey pantsuit holding a clipboard. She extended a neatly manicured handshake to Marc.
“My name is Chantelle. I’ll be helping you with the final preparations for today. If you can bring your luggage and come with me, we can get started.”
She placed one hand gently on Marc’s shoulder and guided him toward a door which she unlocked with her thumbprint. At the end of a long hallway he saw the back of a curly black head of hair connected to a rounded white jumpsuit walking between two men in lab coats. Chantelle opened the door to a room with a medical exam chair and stainless steel table.
“You can place your luggage on the table and have a seat on the chair. I’m going to go over this list of questions with you before you change into the first layer of your flight suit.” Chantelle checked off boxes as she ran through a barrage of questions about his luggage, his mood, how he felt physically, and everywhere he had been and done since he had left orientation the day before. “Two male technicians are going to help you shower and put on the first layer of your suit, but I will be right back in once you’ve finished that process.”
On cue, the door opened and two men in lab coats entered the room. Each carried a stainless steel medical tray with hermetically sealed contents. Chantelle took a white paper cup and a small bottle of water from one tray and turned back to Marc.
“Here’s the medication you’re required to take before flight.” She smiled at Marc as he put two pills into his mouth without looking and swallow them with a mouthful of water. He watched her check off one more item on her clipboard before she said, “Omnicore is excited to have you join our team for this important mission.”
The pills took effect sometime during the shower. Marc felt weightless as the technicians bathed him and dressed him in the sanitized jumpsuit. He was awake, but he could not think of anything worth saying or any reason to stop the procedures.
Chantelle reentered the room and asked, “How did that go?” Marc nodded silently in his own crisp, white jumpsuit. The technicians stood on either side of him and linked elbows to help him walk out of the room and down the hall.
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