Tevun-Krus #91 - LunarPunk

To the Moon and ... Pizza - A Short Story by @jinnis

To the Moon and ... Pizza

By jinnis

I always wanted to go to the Moon. I mean, how cool is it to hop several meters with every step and to watch Earth rise like a blue marble in the sky? And the silence...

Since I had seen the footage of the crew of Apollo 11 as a toddler, my life goal was set. I'd follow in Armstrong's and Aldrin's mighty footsteps. An obsession, mom called it, the dream of a lunatic, my father said, but young me was convinced I'd show them all.

Unfortunately, it wasn't easy to catch a flight up there. I applied with NASA to become an astronaut. But they insisted I wasn't fit enough. Was it my fault I was born a scrawny kid with more brain than brawn? As a teenager, I knew more about the Earth's satellite than the best scientists. Alas, my knowledge wasn't in demand.

It was obvious neither NASA, the Russians, nor the Chinese would help me fulfil my dream. I had to try another approach.

Now, reports of aliens visiting the Earth reach back into the nineteen-forties. Just think Roswell and Area 51, to name the most famous incident.

I studied each report I could lay my hands on. Most of the so-called UFO sightings were a hoax, of course. But a few weren't. Difficult to spot, those, since our visitors were cunning. But the arduous study of the footage and perseverance brought me nearer to my goal step by painstakingly slow step. I noted down patterns, drew maps, and spent the nights building my very own device.

Not a spaceship, oh no. It's hard to construct a solid-fuel rocket in your backyard, under the eyes of your nosy neighbours. Especially when they have even nosier kids. My plan was more subtle and required inconspicuous components I assembled in my bedroom.

Unfortunately, my project took time. Decades later, private players like SpaceX joined the game. For a moment, I was tempted to hope for a more mundane way to reach my dreams. But age and my failing health told me I couldn't wait for an opportunity to visit the Moon as a paying passenger on a luxury flight, champagne glass in hand. Time became an issue.

Besides, I'd already made my choices. My broadcasts were live, well-hidden in the cacophony of signals meant to entertain the masses. I suspected the aliens were monitoring our television programs, and I was right.

They found the patterns I'd crafted and followed my logic. Not that I had much to say. A few numbers were enough, the coordinates of my home. Aware they wouldn't understand a text, I still added an invitation to visit me and a few other bits I deemed important.

When my UFO radar started beeping one Sunday in early February at two in the morning, I thought it must be another false alarm. But an eerie blue light filled my backyard, so I snatched my glasses from my nightstand and padded downstairs, barefoot and in my pyjamas.

From the kitchen window, I saw it. With shaking hands, I opened the door and stood on the veranda, clutching my walking stick. The flying saucer parked in my rhubarb patch. I couldn't believe my luck.

A hatch on the top of the spaceship opened, and a pale blue, wrinkled head appeared. "Are you the one requesting a taxi to the moon?"

My surprise the alien spoke English with an American accent was superseded by the realisation he knew about my hidden messages. "Yes, that would be me. Thanks for dropping by, and welcome to Earth!"

"No sweat. I was picking up pizza with the guy around the corner, anyway. Thought I could drop by."

"That's nice. Would you like to come in?"

"Nah, the pizza will get cold. Time to make your pick now. Do you want to hitch a ride to the moon resort or not?"

Not what I had imagined my first meeting with aliens to be like, but who looks a gift horse in the mouth? This was my chance. "Sure, what should I bring?"

"Do you have garlic and anchovies? The pizza guy was running short."

"Um. I might, let me check."

I rummaged through my kitchen closet and picked up two tins of anchovies and a six-pack of beer from the fridge. "Sorry about garlic. Will these do?"

"Perfect, hop in, we don't want to miss the start of the Super Bowl."

My trip to the Hollow Moon Holiday Resort wasn't exactly how I expected. But the pizza was good, the beer cold, and the game entertaining. Oh, and the Moon's gravity held up to my expectations.

My alien friend dropped me off at home after the game. I shook his wrinkled hand. "Thanks for the trip, that was stunning."

"No worries. Thanks for the beer. I'll have to get a load of the stuff for the big show."

I wondered what could be bigger than the Super Bowl. The Olympics, perhaps? "So, you plan to stick around for a while?"

"Sure, I booked for the big one, you know?" He threw up his hands. "You don't get the chance to watch a real-time apocalypse every day."