POOP 2021

closest to home

The glitz. The scenes. The city that gleams in the night sky. 200,000 miles above the big apple, illuminating every other once-great metropolis dazzles Apolis.

It only seemed fit for America's 64th administration to honor the nation's earliest space endeavors in its latest. In only 6 years at the expense of $3.7 trillion had the city on the moon been erected. Half the size of Manhattan, Apolis' dense neighborhoods were already home to some 4 million American citizens. This phenomenon of so many within so little could be attributed to Dr. Lezi, an Earth-renowned architect and scientist who designed the City on the Moon.

Zxero-Hekai Lezi grew up on the plains and shores of Chronsai. His father had advised political leaders of the nation before, during and after gaining sovereignty. The north-Madagascar country at that time was poor with no significant exports to build wealth. Yet what Chronsai lacked in agriculture and trade, they made up for in intelligence. Military training, technical solutions, carpentry, you name it. In its 40-year history the nation was mostly successful at sending its kids off only to return and enhance home. Dr. Lezi was the exception.

As a boy Zxero-Hekai had already become bored with the routines of an advisor. Day after night he witnessed his father work so hard to encourage and manifest the dreams of other men, he had no time for his own. Though Chronsainian boys and girls are sent elsewhere for schooling, they're expected nonetheless to study the trades of their predecessors.

"As if," Dr. Lezi said to himself, remembering times back then as he entered one of several US embassies under Apolis' dome.

Spite would best describe the architect's feelings towards home. His father always working, mother with patience only to be a mother and a year-older brother who personified deceit, Zxero-Hekai grew up lonesome. As he aged and faced challenges to his manhood both in classrooms and on training fields he had no person to vent to or even hurt. As his country celebrated year-after-year their newfound independence, he spent the days wandering in and out of books. People were the last thing he interacted with and as a result his manners were...self-absorbed. Dr.Lezi knew this, perhaps even proud because of it, believing himself to be his own man needing no ties to that lonely place called Chronsai.

Some company from someplace was always requiring his attendance at the embassies. They were, in fact, the only mundane and routine part that came with Chief Operations Developer of Apolis. A fancy way of saying the guy that's gotta approve the blueprints because only he best understands the foundations of moon construction, Dr. Lezi thought of the position.

He surveyed the large oval room. Seated about today's round table were representatives of Ose, an African commercial firm that specializes in building civil spaces. As three of the five reps spoke--the other two merely lawyers--Dr. Lezi tried to distinguish their accents to a nation. He couldn't be sure. The sound, the way they pronounced even Apolis was too...new, he thought.

His eyes went back to the blueprint, attempting to find clues or some trademark registered to any African nation. There'd been a lot of talk of Ose's proposition. At least, even Dr. Lezi had heard plans of "Africa coming to the moon". And as the architect analyzed the large diagram, alas his eyes widened. Ose was a Chronsainian company. Moreso, he noted in a corner that plans for the cultural park were signed off by the nation's now acting prime minister, his brother.

The architect couldn't care less about Chronsai building a space for children and important African history. Even his brother's position as Prime Minister was known and recently-faded news. But as Dr. Lezi sat looking at the reps speak, his ears ringing with thought, he mostly wondered why at all his brother's signature appeared on the document. Fascinatingly enough, no governments had to sign-off on one of their companies plans for American moon real-estate. The US had no problem saying no foreign projects. In fact, the decision is entrusted to several Operations Developers, including Dr. Lezi.

He found himself centered with a rock and a hard place. He'd only known his brother as an opportunist, working for his favor, always hoping to be applauded. But it'd been over three decades since he knew him at all. Men change, Dr. Lezi assured himself. Yet, still did his stomach churn at his brother's signature on the sheet.

Swearing never to return home, home had found him. And with a yes or no could he be responsible for Chronsai's expansion into another world, visibility from others that could make life less lonely for boys living there as he once did. He felt his palms become sweaty as they laid on his lap, Dr. Lezi trying his best to remain most-positive and fair. Only then, he realized, he couldn't be.

"This signature here," he said, interrupting a representative. "Whose is it?"

The stout man responded with his brother's name and the architect shook just enough to be noticed. He took a breath and nodded. He wouldn't admit the plans should proceed. Or that Chronsai was even home. Yet he informed the room of his relationship to their Prime Minister, stating he couldn't make any affirmative decision as it could be deemed special interest. Without a word did he excuse himself, rushing outside to the once muffled sounds of a steel city still rising from stone.

After all these years, all the American titles and even when a world away, had Dr. Lezi never left the loneliness of Chronsai.

***Story originally shared on 13 July 2021 as a part of Da Po'Op, the Poetry Opera podcast.

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