Logbook #33

AS16-110-17995
AS16-110-17995

Le chapitre 33

Jean logged off from the social media site and sighed. He couldn’t grasp the notion of paparazzi converging on his avatar or that he was somehow a ‘hot item’! He happily related to machines and equipment; sometimes speaking to them with quite emphatic animation and sometimes not terribly pleasantly. However, conjoining with a superficial 2-dimensional image dancing on a computer and from it, having to appease tens of thousands of iconic worshipers kind of freaked him out. Nevertheless, he pulled his shift.

All four colonists knew that they had to maintain a vibrant interaction with their support base on Earth. They couldn’t stick their heads into their surroundings and let the Earthlings forget that a nascent colony on the Moon was struggling every day just to survive. If they faded into the background, they’d lose support as much as occurred with the Apollo program and everyone knew what happened to that. Still, Jean enjoyed tantalizing and sensationalizing his situation even if he couldn’t fathom the rationale. Surprisingly, human emotions seemed to be the hot topic. Almost everyone wanted to know who Jean liked, who he was sleeping with and what plans he had to conquer the other colonists. While he happily lived up to the billing of the sky-high-plumber and wrote lasciviously about his physical exploits, most was pure hyperbole. Jean and his three team members knew that co-operation was key to their survival. They didn’t have the luxury of petty strife or germane bickering as might be wont on well overpopulated planet Earth. Therefore, he would spend the supper before his media stint talking with his friends about what to say and what to imply so that twitter feeds would light up with news from the Colony. Happily, almost immediately afterward they would see a jump in donations, meaning they’d just bought a few more hours of supply and support. He really looked forward to being independent of Earth but he knew that was well into the future so he soldiered on with the ridiculous charade on Earth’s social net.

With a sigh, he smoothly raised himself from the computer chair and headed to the vestibule. Though he had hoped that his Earth toned muscles would make him feel like Superman when on the Moon, he had been noticing that every week he seemed to struggle more with routine actions just as when he was on Earth. As he had been warned, his body was becoming accustomed to life on the Moon; his muscles being only enough to keep his body capable in the low gravity, his heart and lungs beating for this new situation. He kept at the treadmill and bio-resistance machine but he knew that any re-introduction into Earth’s gravity would come with a very difficult adaptation process. He had kept his options open. Waiting to see what happens before deciding whether to return or not. But with every day on the Moon he felt more and more comfortable and eager to stay. He doffed his Hab garment, a slight gown of thinnest material, and began the steps of donning the egress suit. It had many layers, each with a particular trait to help with survival and mobility. While at times he felt like the marshmallow man when he was so dressed, he also felt greatly comforted knowing that there was some significant protection between him and the infinity of space arching over him. The denizens on Earth wouldn’t care much about the complexities of walking on the lunar surface or the ability of their robotic borer to excavate a safety chamber. But just tell them a little of their typical daytime garments in the Hab and their interest surged. He really couldn’t understand how so many people could be so occupied with such trivial banality.

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