The Moonwalker

Chapter 15.5

The hallway is quiet. Aula's room is even quieter. She shuts the door and listens for a moment like a teenager sneaking in after curfew. All she hears is the ambient machine hum. Her laptop sits on her plastic desk beneath the mosaic of photographs, which have shown up on the internet and in newspapers over the years. The classic is one of herself and Harvey as ascans. He has an arm slung across her shoulders while she stands rigidly with her arms behind her back. They're both in aviators and blue flight suits with an old T-38 in the background. The sleek little jet is the world's first supersonic trainer, which they use it to train up mission specialists. NASA's meatball insignia is still easy to spot on its tail. The cockpit looks small, but it's designed to carry two people.

She crosses the room in a single loping step and steadies herself against the desk. The laptop is cool to the touch. When she opens it, the screen dims to ambient light. It only takes a few clicks to open Skyline, but it immediately dings with several missed calls from a single user. The icon flashes red like a warning light.

The news cycle has obviously picked up on what happened. Aula spends a precious part of her bandwidth searching for herself on Google. A deluge of articles pop up on screen featuring pictures of her, various NASA and CSA officials, and the lunar surface. Everyone with an internet connection offers opinions, some less informed than others. The whole planet needs to have a say and Sophia is caught in the crosshairs.

Aula sighs and types, Are you still up?

mom's asleep

She inhales sharply. Hey Anaaya. How are you?

fine

Heard you went hunting

ya
news said you almost died

"Dickheads," Aula mutters. I needed a few stitches, that's all. How's your mom?

tired

You sure you're alright?

ya
gtg grandma's here
bye

Okay
Take care of yourself, kid

There's no response. She shuts the laptop off and gets ready for bed. It's hard to undress without clipping her face. Something so easy now requires careful forethought and execution like every other aspect of life on the Moon. She flings her shirt on the floor and sits on the bed. It would be nice to feel clean, but it's too much effort. She slumps over until her head hits the pillow.

It takes a long time to sleep. The pain isn't excruciating anymore, but it's always there. Ticking in time with her heartbeat like a clock in a quiet room.

Aula can easily conjure up Sophia's tired face. Trapped on the outside because she isn't the spouse of an astronaut. If she were, she'd have backup from the Family Support Office. Guaranteed communication, home security, information, and badging. She could see things for herself on Polycom instead of erratic snippets taken from Aula's personal bandwidth allowance.

It's hard to imagine Sophia and Anaaya tucked away in Florida or Texas. In Churchill, maybe. But it's a big ask to leave family and friends behind to sit in another country only to watch Aula leave the planet. All three of them would be exposed to controversy, but Sophia and Anaaya would bear the brunt of it. Isolated in ways Aula can't always fathom.

She grabs her mp5 player and presses the buds into her ears. When she hits play, sounds of a campfire and rain distract from the pain.