A Tale of the Moon

The world is dark indeed. I looked at my phone and sighed. I had received another message, demanding I relinquish my phone. For on my phone, I carried a secret. This secret was no ordinary secret; it was a government secret, the formula for light speed. I was the only one left with the formula, everyone else being killed off. In truth, I feared for my life. Someone, claiming to be an assassin, had been repeatedly sent threatening messages, demanding I reveal the formula of light speed travel, by relinquishing my phone, or perish. I suspected they were just scams, sent to everyone with a phone. The secret was greatly desired by all.

I walked along a dark alleyway, knocking lightly on the wall with my fist, searching for a hidden door. It was raining, which did not complicate my task, just irritated me. I soon found a hollow region in the wall and pushed on it. The door opened, and I entered a long corridor. I followed it to another door and knocked upon it. It was opened by a masked woman. She spoke, words of greeting, ushering me in.

“Hello, Alfred, old friend. Do you have the formula?”

“Yes, I do. I went through quite the troubles to obtain this formula.”

“I understand. The payment is over there.” Victoria and I were information smugglers. It was quite a profitable business, in these days of minimal information.

“I will collect the payment and be on my way.” I gave Victoria my phone, collected the briefcase of money, and was preparing to depart, when Victoria spoke.

“Change your passcode. “I turned in surprise.

“That would mean betraying our employer. He would be unable to access the information if I changed my passcode, at least not without a good deal of time and effort.” She was playing a dangerous game. This would almost surely come up later.

“I am aware. Just do it.” She moved to my side and handed me the phone. I entered the Settings app and changed my passcode from 1034 to 1086. I handed the phone back to Victoria. I hoped that she knew what she was doing. This stunt could cost us our lives. Victoria and I exited the secret room and walked out into the moist air of mid-May. We both immediately drew our laser pistols. We were surrounded by Lord Governor Maurice Duffe’s Grand Police Force. The Captain, the infamous Space Lord, stepped forward.

“Traitors to the Lord Governor, you are to be shot by firing squad.” Victoria stepped forward. “Traitors? We are not traitors! We were merely seeking information. Surely no crime?” The Space Lord may be a brilliant strategist, but that was the extent of his knowledge. He was stumped. He thought and thought. I could practically hear his brain frantically whirring, searching desperately for an answer to Victoria’s question. He found none.

“Move along.,” he said. As soon as we were in the busy street, I clapped her on the shoulder, and said,

“My friend, what a clever move!” She waved her hand, humble to the last.

“It was nothing. The dimwit of a Space Lord could not have outwitted a fly.”

I clapped her on the shoulder once more. We continued to walk down the street. I dragged her to the nearby SpacePort. Humans could only travel to the Moon, so far. But with the discovery of the formula of light speed, practically anything was beginning to become a possibility. We waited in line for nearly an hour, then paid the hefty fare for tickets. We soon boarded flight number 11480 bound for the Moon. If I had said that humans, specifically those in the United States, would colonize the Moon two decades ago, I would have been ridiculed. How times have changed, and not necessarily for the better. The thrusters started, and we were airborne. The flight took seven hours, and when we disembarked, I was exhausted.

Victoria and I booked two hotel rooms. The Moon looked exactly as you would picture it normally, except with a budding civilization upon it. So, not the same, I suppose. It was covered in buildings, large and small. Breathing upon the moon was possible due to a human-fashioned atmosphere. Victoria and I entered our separate rooms, and I immediately leapt into bed. Usually, I would read the news before bed on my phone, but since Victoria had kept that, I immediately fell asleep.

The next morning, Victoria, and I, refreshed, walked through the streets of the main city on the Moon, Lunal. The city streets were crowded with wealthy human families. No aliens, at least for now. We walked up the streets, making slow progress. Victoria and I continued strolling through the streets, walking to the home of our employer, Sir Robert Smith. The man had quite a history behind him. He had been knighted by the King of England before the country fell. Furthermore, he had served as Prime Minister of England until the country fell. Some even believed that he had had a hand in the fall of the country. In the modern day, he had given up politics, and had become a famed Collector of Information. He collected anything from house addresses to government secrets. The trillionaire lived in a mansion in the center of Lunal. He rarely left, preferring to spend his time pouring over information. Victoria and I were just two of his hundreds of “employees”. He was, arguably, one of the most powerful men alive. And we were betraying him. Staring up at his mansion, I wondered if I would ever leave. I shoved these thoughts from my mind. They would not benefit me. Victoria and I walked slowly up to the enormous double doors, and I rang the bell. A deep, resounding gong sounded, filling my ears. I covered them. We were not left waiting. The door was opened by the new butler. He seemed to hire a new one every week. We walked through the numerous hallways, until we reached the study. The butler left us at the door. The door was closed, so we waited outside. We could not help but eavesdrop. Sir Robert Smith was speaking.

“You understand, I need to undermine the American Government. In this event, I will take over complete control of the Moon. You have aided me thus far. Yet your work has stalled. I need you to continue if I am to achieve ultimate victory, my friend. I will increase your salary. All you must do is uncover the necessary information.”

“Yes, sir.” I immediately recognized the voice of Donald Tremaine, a former businessman, turned information-hunter about two years ago. He and I had collaborated on my last assignment. The door to the room opened, and, as I suspected, Donald Tremaine exited. Victoria knocked on the door, and we heard Sir Smith’s voice, permitting us to enter. We entered the lavish study, were an elderly man sat in a large armchair by the fire. He had white hair, and a pointed grey beard. He was thin as a rod and looked sickly. However, his voice was still strong.

“Hello, Alfred, and Victoria! Do you have the formula?” I answered.

“Yes, sir. We have it here.” Victoria handed Sir Smith my phone. He took the phone and examined it.

“Thank you, my friends. I am sure that I do not need to check the phone, for you are senior agents. Thank you again, and good morning.”

We took this as a clear sign of dismissal, picked up our belongings, and left. We were both startled by the short conversation. If he had checked the phone, we would have been dead before the next hour. We found the butler, clearly eavesdropping, waiting for us at the door. He led us to the door and wished us a safe journey back to Earth. We marched through the even more crowded streets. We arrived at the SpacePort and booked flight 11498 for Earth. We sat in the seats next to the Boarding Area praying that we would not be discovered. We were not. I soon heard the chimes, signifying the beginning of the boarding process. I turned to Victoria and found that she was not beside me. I cursed. I had not seen her for hours, always presuming that she was following me. She must have gotten lost in the crowd. I searched until the flight left but came up empty-handed.

In the end, I left without Victoria. I prayed for her safety. I wondered where she was. But I did not wonder for long. The day after, I returned home, I was sitting in my apartment in Philadelphia, and I turned on the news. I fell to the floor, shocked. Sir Robert Smith was dead, murdered, as was his murder, Victoria. I wept. She had been a good friend, and I mourned her passing. I wept for at least ten minutes, before standing up, and wiping my nose on my sleeve. Victoria had surely killed Sir Smith because of his tyrannical behavior, and to save my neck if he ever discovered that we, no, I, had changed the passcode on my phone. She was dead because of me, and my passcode. I swore to myself that her sacrifice would not be in vain. I would ensure that no one else would rise to such a position, as he had. And I would make sure no one ever forgot the sacrifice that Victoria had made.