Bill Anders

After marriage and a move to Streamwood, IL , Divorce, and being the custodial parent for three boys with all the attendant games of baseball and basketball for them all, I sold my house and moved to Evanston to be closer to work. I was a plumber for Cahill Plumbing, there for over forty years. Upon retirement, I was able to devote more time to an interest in writing. I joined a Creative Writing class and proceeded to write fifty thousand words of plumbing job and

customer-related stories. I had always had an interest in Science Fiction and this is what I predominately write now.

I am seventy-seven years of age, creeping up to seventy-eight in November. I am and always have been an avid reader, in fair health and hope to continue writing for as long as possible. It gives me a great deal of pleasure.

Jim took Laura’s hand as they exited the Luna base airlock. “Taking her hand” might actually be a stretch. Their moon suits were so bulky that what actually occurred was that he attached his palm velcro to the patch of velcro on the back of Laura’s heavy glove, gloves too stiff to allow the actual entwining of hands, let alone fingers. It made him feel closer to her none the less.

         He guided her through the heavy disturbance in moon dust for some distance before veering off on a smaller path, a path he had created to his favorite viewing spot, The lunar dust reminded him of grey colored talc. It seemed to Jim that the dust was so light it should rise up in clouds but with no atmosphere and low gravity it always resettled quickly. He continued walking for about a quarter kilometer where he approached an escarpment rising about two feet above the surface, one edge of a hole blasted ages ago by an errant meteor strike. When he first found the place Jim had used his boots to shove dust and regolith against the side of the rise, forming a sloped backrest. He motioned for Laura to sit and recline and, when she did, he followed suit. In this position, next to each other, they could easily take in a perfect view of earth — a view he had enjoyed alone, many times before.

         Jim  lightly  tapped Laura’s helmet with his free hand and then motioned to his face plate. When she was looking he activated the electrostatic control that cleared his helmet of any dust adhering through static electricity, nodding her head inside her helmet, she did the same. They could have communicated through the suit radios but chose not to, as they knew anything they said would be heard by all. Jim placed his helmet against Laura’s and mouthed “I love you.” This elicited a sad but sincere smile. They both then turned and quietly took in the view of earth.

         The Earth had once resembled a big blue marble and he could gaze upon it from this spot for hours. It now resembled a roughly squarish red and orange charcoal briquette glowing beneath clouds of steam and radioactive soil. All communications with Lunar Control had ceased. Their scheduled supply ship had been set for takeoff roughly near the time the world- wide conflagration had unloosed and would never arrive now. The last message received from Lunar Control had advised them that the ship had been knocked over on it’s gantry during  the final countdown. Tectonic shifts in the earth’s crust activated by the explosions of hundreds of nuclear bombs from as many countries. Countries who had fired off every nuclear bomb in their arsenals, well after any chance of the survival of any life on Earth. Just in anger, just in spite.

         Even if the supply ship had been able to launch, its arrival would only have postponed the inevitable, insuring their survival, even with the strictest rationing, for  only weeks. Without regular supply ships arriving, there was no chance. The survival of the 30 odd scientists inhabiting the Lunar base was impossible. At least half of the pragmatic scientists stationed there had seen the reality of the situation and, bidding stately farewells to all, had chosen to avoid the suffering of clinging to every last minute and ended their lives with some last shred of dignity.

         Laura had joined the Lunar Team six months ago, arriving on the monthly supply rocket. All hands generally attended these arrivals looking for some activity to brighten up their daily schedule. They all gathered to greet any new crew members and to check out the supplies, hoping for some unusual items. One month the shipment contained twenty pounds of peanut brittle, another all the ingredients to make “s’mores”. Others, five large frozen pumpkin pies, right before Thanksgiving, a gift stocking for each member just before the “winter” holidays. Someone at Luna Control seemed to take great pleasure in providing these surprises — and they meant a great deal to everyone. A case of microwave popcorn had arrived on Laura’s ship.

         Frank Edgar considered himself the base Lothario. Whenever a new female team  member arrived, he nearly broke his neck to be the first to greet her as she cleared the inner air lock. As Laura removed her gloves and helmet, Frank was front and center, sticking his hand out and introducing himself, his eyes clearly broadcasting “another possible conquest!”

         Jim would never forget what happened next, Laura walked right past Frank, her eyes searching the assembled crowd, before locking on Jim’s. She walked right up to him, put out her hand to grasp his firmly and said “You are the reason I came here.” Such was the respect she had for Jim’s work and for the papers he had published on Earth.

         They had formed a research team within days, a personal team only days after. They were like two gears that meshed perfectly and were soon spending every minute together. Jim had told her early on that he hoped they would spend the rest of their lives together — sadly that was now true.

         Soon after the disaster, they abandoned any pretense of work or research and instead tried to pack an emotional lifetime into the few days that remained. They had come to love each other so much, they almost felt they had succeeded. They eventually came to the point that their tears, although they had shed many, had ceased. Being pragmatic, they planned their last day — what they would do and where they would spend it. Then, on that fateful day, they toasted each other with a “special cocktail”, had one final embrace and kiss, donned their moon suits, and made their way to his special spot. Now seated there, Jim attached a metal braided hose between their suits, assuring their combined air would run out at the same exact moment. Their “cocktail” guaranteeing they would quietly fall asleep together, not suffer torment, gasping wildly for breath.

         As Jim felt his eyes too heavy to keep open, he turned to Laura, and she to him, they touched faceplates, said they loved each other, smiled one last smile, and slept.Jim’s last thought was that perhaps on the next turn of the wheel, humanity might just work past their differences and arrive at a better future.