Earthian

Farther

Storm clouds are gathering like one of grandma’s shawls. Rain has come and gone and come again, but at least it’s warm out. Some kind of tropical storm, I guess, so I don’t mind too much.

June isn’t as happy about it. Water is dripping down her glasses, and she keeps wiping drops from the tip of her nose, all the while nervous about her camera, tablet, and science kit.

All I’ve got is a (thoroughly soaked) backpack with a change of clothes inside, and the phone in my pocket. What do I really need to bring on a trip to the Moon? Got a feeling my swim trunks and bug spray won’t be needed.

Of course, it occurs to me that I never really planned for something like this. I’ve been busy worrying about my (upcoming) senior year, the new soccer season, and where to send college applications. Leaving the planet never really came up.

That’s clearly not the case for June. Why else would she own a giant science kit like that? Her rolling luggage has a bumper sticker that says Moon or bust!, and it’s not remotely new. Heck, it’s probably seen more sunlight than June has these past couple years.

And that explains why I’m stuck with her. She was the one who noticed that the Seelio’s invitation included a guest. And it quickly became clear that peace and quiet would never again return to our home if she didn’t get to go.

The silver lining is that she won’t say a word, no matter how dark the clouds may get. Thunder barks in the distance, I hear rain churning down nearby, and June is growling quietly. Her fingers are curled into little fists, but she will not make a peep.

I could stand in this rain for hours.

But it’s not to be. A blue light brightens the clouds from behind, and a curious ships slips down out of them. Mist swirls and clings to it like whipped-cream as the ship cuts silently through the air.

In another few seconds, it passes over our heads and sets down in the parking lot. It’s shaped like the front half of a throwing disc, but forty yards wide, and made of a smooth material that shimmers like an oil slick. The whole machine is as seamless as pearl.

Then, one of those nonexistent seams cracks open and a ramp lowers. There’s a warm, golden light inside, like a cabin with a rollicking fireplace. No one comes out to greet us, but neither June nor I need much convincing… yeah, I’m finally sick of the rain too, so we both hurry aboard.

Once inside, I’m ecstatic to find that it’s not only lit like a fireplace; it actually feels like there’s one crackling nearby. June and I walk deliberately down a rounded tunnel with walls made of that same shimmering material, and to be perfectly honest, I’m afraid to touch it.

June’s braver. She runs a finger along it as we walk, and she giggles. She just touched something made by alien hands; I’m totally surprised she didn’t fall over.

We get to the tunnel’s end and exit into a room shaped like a hamburger. I mean… it isn’t painted to look like one or have sesame seeds, but the shape’s there.

There’s a tunnel on the opposite side just like the one we came out of, and there are two chairs in front of us, toward the back of the room. They look comfy.

June and I both plop ourselves down while the top half of the room slides down, sealing the two tunnels closed. Then I feel my weight shift, I’m gently pressed back in my seat, and we must be flying.

“We can’t see anything,” June says dejectedly.

The walls oblige. The view outside sprinkles into existence on the surface, like thousands of tiny, round TVs lighting up and melting together.