Post by franklinmarsh on Apr 8, 2010 12:27:08 GMT
Black. I’ve read that black is not a colour in itself, but rather an absence of colour. The sky here is completely black. I can’t even make out any stars. A vacuum. With the low gravity, one leap and I could be soaring into infinity, floating in that great black womb forever; at least until my oxygen supply ran out.
The ground is grey. Grey moon dust. Grey moon rock. A wasteland. A grey desert. No sign of life except for that left by myself and my companions, and our machines. No trace of our predecessors.
Looking up from the grey ‘earth’ into the black void, I feel a tremor of fright. I’m alone. I’m aware that my companions, the lunar module and the moon buggy are behind me, but I get that frisson wondering that if, when I turn around, there will be just another expanse of grey, topped by the black black sky.
I turn around. There they are. Heads leaning toward one another, one facing me, the other turned away. I switch my communicator back on, and they are talking about the samples we are collecting. I turned slowly, to give them time to stop talking about me. I could have flicked the communicator on whilst my back was to them, but I was afraid of what I might hear. Are they plotting to kill me, or just to leave me here? I heard them yesterday, discussing how fine we were cutting it, regarding our return to Earth.
Two have a better chance than three. I smile. One must have a better chance than two. I begin my superhuman leaps toward them. Astor waves. I wave back. I’ll kill Chambers first. Astor is the weaker of the two. I just need to work out how.
Chow time. Tuna concentrate. My companions groan and moan. I can’t see the markings on their tubes. I’m sure they have the concentrated shrimp cocktail. My favourite. I never seem to get that at meal times though. I sense Chambers staring. Does he suspect? He must go first. Tomorrow. Time is getting short.
Photo opportunity. Astor has the camera. The Earth hangs like a huge Christmas decoration illuminating the normally impenetrable blackness. I feel happier, more optimistic, but will not be swayed from my mission. Chambers holds the flagpole, ever the patriot. Nations mean nothing here. I elected to hold up a pickaxe, symbolic of our hard work in obtaining pieces of the moon for our dedicated scientists back ’home.’ I’m also confident that it will pierce Chambers’ spacesuit. It does. He struggles for a while, jock bastard that he is, but I lacerate his suit and the body beneath. Beautiful globules of his life fluid issue forth. I’m so entranced by this display, I almost forget Astor.
As I chase Astor in low gravity slow motion back toward the lunar module, I wonder if he took the picture? It would make nice souvenir. I catch him before he can close the door. We fight in the airlock. He puts up a much better show than I expected, but I triumph and hurl his unnaturally light corpse toward the black. It refuses to swallow him, and he rests gently upon the grey.
I begin to prepare to leave the moon. I’m not going home though. Now an individual instead of part of a team, I can make my own decisions. I set the controls for the heart of the sun.
END
The ground is grey. Grey moon dust. Grey moon rock. A wasteland. A grey desert. No sign of life except for that left by myself and my companions, and our machines. No trace of our predecessors.
Looking up from the grey ‘earth’ into the black void, I feel a tremor of fright. I’m alone. I’m aware that my companions, the lunar module and the moon buggy are behind me, but I get that frisson wondering that if, when I turn around, there will be just another expanse of grey, topped by the black black sky.
I turn around. There they are. Heads leaning toward one another, one facing me, the other turned away. I switch my communicator back on, and they are talking about the samples we are collecting. I turned slowly, to give them time to stop talking about me. I could have flicked the communicator on whilst my back was to them, but I was afraid of what I might hear. Are they plotting to kill me, or just to leave me here? I heard them yesterday, discussing how fine we were cutting it, regarding our return to Earth.
Two have a better chance than three. I smile. One must have a better chance than two. I begin my superhuman leaps toward them. Astor waves. I wave back. I’ll kill Chambers first. Astor is the weaker of the two. I just need to work out how.
Chow time. Tuna concentrate. My companions groan and moan. I can’t see the markings on their tubes. I’m sure they have the concentrated shrimp cocktail. My favourite. I never seem to get that at meal times though. I sense Chambers staring. Does he suspect? He must go first. Tomorrow. Time is getting short.
Photo opportunity. Astor has the camera. The Earth hangs like a huge Christmas decoration illuminating the normally impenetrable blackness. I feel happier, more optimistic, but will not be swayed from my mission. Chambers holds the flagpole, ever the patriot. Nations mean nothing here. I elected to hold up a pickaxe, symbolic of our hard work in obtaining pieces of the moon for our dedicated scientists back ’home.’ I’m also confident that it will pierce Chambers’ spacesuit. It does. He struggles for a while, jock bastard that he is, but I lacerate his suit and the body beneath. Beautiful globules of his life fluid issue forth. I’m so entranced by this display, I almost forget Astor.
As I chase Astor in low gravity slow motion back toward the lunar module, I wonder if he took the picture? It would make nice souvenir. I catch him before he can close the door. We fight in the airlock. He puts up a much better show than I expected, but I triumph and hurl his unnaturally light corpse toward the black. It refuses to swallow him, and he rests gently upon the grey.
I begin to prepare to leave the moon. I’m not going home though. Now an individual instead of part of a team, I can make my own decisions. I set the controls for the heart of the sun.
END