Everyone's Gone to The Moon

The glass-domed roof of the female detention wing offered a ruthless view of the sour Earth below. I felt the sudden urge to vomit. However, since my stomach was empty, all I could do was retch.

A woman beside snapped.

"Stop it! You're making me sick!"

I tried to compose myself, my esophagus burning from the corrosive bile my efforts had dredged up.

“I just can't stand the sight of it...those grey oceans...black clouds..."

The woman snarled back.

"Well, shut yer eyes then! If you throw up on me, I'll snap your neck!"

She elbowed me in the ribs to back up her words with physical force. It was a useless effort on her part, as I was numb to most pain at this point. An elbow to the side was nothing compared to the Inquisitor’s wrath.

In some ways, there was no punishment crueler than these moments of silence in the dormitory hall. Huddled here with sixty other women, packed inside a plexiglass dome jutting out from the pockmarked surface of the moon, with nothing to do but look up at the ruin that used to be my home.

I was just a girl when I left Earth, and my reflections were hazy. I remembered people screaming, the city torn apart by riots, giant mushroom clouds on the horizon. It was hard to keep memory seperate from nightmares in this eternal darkness.

Apart from the sorrows of the flight from Earth, there was also a mournful nostalgia, locked up in non-specific mundane memories. Like the first gift I’d received on my birthday, a heart-shaped locket from my grandmother, with a picture inside of herself when she was just a young girl. Or when I was a toddler sitting in my parent's backyard, and an ant queen landed in the grass beside me. I reached out, either to save or squish it, only to get bit on the thumb by its menacing incisors.

Unpleasant though that particular experience was, I am very thankful to that ant queen. The trauma of that moment allowed me to hold on to other details of that afternoon, making it one of my strongest memories. The warm summer sun on my back, natural air coursing through my lungs, the grass beneath the palms of my hand.

I shook my head, it was dangerous to dwell on memories for long. Besides being an anti-Party action, it hurt my soul.

I rolled over onto my stomach, preferring to place my cheek against the cold concrete rather than face Earth. I wished desperately to return to the Inquisitor, for the guard to haul me up off the floor and toss me back into the interrogation chair, anything but being left with my own thoughts.

The door opened, a guard stood at the threshold, wielding her bludgeon with menace.

"Prisoner 21103?"

I cursed; it wasn't me. The other prisoners looked around the room expectantly, but no one stood up. The guard stepped into the dome, fury building in her voice.

"21103? Come on, stand up, you little coward! Time to face justice!"

Again there was no response. The guard stomped her way through, kicking those who didn't make way with her steel-toed boots.

"Come on you lazy useless wreckers! If 21103 doesn't show herself, I'll have all of you flayed!"

A commotion erupted at the far side of the room as some of the prisoners began wrestling with a girl between them, her screams filled the dome.

"Here she is! We have her!"

The two burly women hauled the girl across the room towards the guard.

"Hold out her arm!"

They did so, heedless to the girls sobbing pleas. The guard brought down her cudgel on the upturned hand, the sickening thwack no doubt breaking a few bones. She then took 21103 by the back of her neck and led her out of the dome.

An hour later, my number was called. I stood up immediately and walked calmly towards the door, not wanting to cause a fuss. The guard grabbed me roughly out of custom and shoved me down the white steel hallway.

"Alright, prisoner, get moving! You know where to go!"

I did know where to go, having made my way from the detention block to the interrogation cells many times in my three-month stay. We passed several prisoners on the way, all of them bearing the same thousand-yard stare that was exceedingly familiar to me. The look was probably fixed upon my face as well.

Most of them didn't show any physical signs of abuse, at least not on the skin that was visible. The inquisitors were masters of mental torture above all, if they had to beat someone, it was a sign of failure on their part.

I'd been defiant in my first session, demanding what I was being charged with, what I had done to deserve arrest, yadda-yadda-yadda. The Inquisitor smiled patiently and presented me with a blank piece of paper, telling me that I must sign my confession to be released. I asked again what I was being charged with and received a sharp kick to the shin, followed by an icy glare.

"You know what you did! Admit it, make it easier on yourself, huh? You sign your name, and I'll handle the other details."

Fearing the heinous things she might write above my signature, I refused, demanding a fair trial to state my case. This was met by a bucket of cold water poured over my head and another invitation to sign.

Things went on like this for weeks, with only the vain hope that I’d be released if I held up long enough to sustain me. The punishments inflicted were never so bad as to seriously injure, but their cumulative effect made me highly apprehensive towards disobedience. I began to apologize to my tormentor when I wouldn't sign, sympathizing with her more than I did with myself. Still, I refused to sign, I felt that I'd rather die than have my good name ruined.

As we approached cell 4113, I took a deep breath, telling myself what I always did.

"This won't be the end of me, I can survive this. Just one more session and they’ll realize I’m innocent. I just need to convince her with my determination and she'll let me go."

The guard opened the door and kicked me inside, before slamming it behind. The darkened steel-sided room was as inviting as ever.

I approached the interrogation chair, a sterile aluminum contraption with an uncomfortably short back, and sat down, finding the best possible position on the uncomfortable hunk of metal. The Inquisitor was not where she usually sat, in her padded chair on the other side of the plastic table. She was standing in the darkness, her face only illuminated by Earthshine from a small window at the far end of the room.

She addressed me without looking away.

"Such a waste, isn't it? All those years they spent launching rockets into orbit... no regard for life down there on Earth...such a waste."

I nodded, thankful to agree with her for once.

"Yes… it was a waste. Homo Sapiens were foolish, that's why Homo Luna must be twice as good!"

She turned to face me and nodded, pleased by my near perfect quotation of the Luna Party poster. A smile cracked her lips, the expression alien to her stern face.

"Do you know why Nova Prime was built on the far side of the Moon? It wasn't because of safety concerns, I can tell you that! Way more asteroids land there than here on the near-side. That’s why Nova is eighty percent underground and the exposed portions are heavily reinforced.”

"Why was it built over there then?"

"Because the Founders, hallowed be their names, knew the settlers would become despondent if they faced the bitter Earth, knew they'd be forever looking back on past mistakes, cursing their misfortune and those who came before. The Founders, hallowed be their names, knew humanity must look out to the stars if we were to have any chance for a future."

"Yes...I understand what they meant. It hurts my soul to look upon our dead mother."

She plopped down in her chair; her manner more casual than ever before.

"I know. You're a patriot; you've been an active member of the Luna Party your entire life, right?"

I nodded enthusiastically, excited to finally receive some recognition.

"Yes! That's right! I volunteered with the Youth League! I read all the party pamphlets, all the newsletters! I always vote in the all-Party elections!"

She beamed a warm smile.

"Then you know how serious our task is, how important it is that we succeed?"

"Of course! There would be no human race were it not for the Party! We'd be left choking on Earth! I'd do anything for the Party!"

She pushed the piece of paper forward.

"Sign this then."

I looked down at the pen, my lip quivering at this sudden reverse.

"But...I already told...I didn't do anything wrong!"

Her eyes were hard

"The Party may be infallible, but it still makes mistakes. My job is to establish guilt in those accused, not to prove innocence. You understand?"

"But...what about justice?"

The Inquisitor's gaze was unrelenting.

"Sometimes justice must be sacrificed to maintain unity."

She reached into the breast pocket of her uniform and pulled out a letter, unfolding it before placing it before me.

"I have something for you, a letter from your daughter."

I looked at the writing, though my eyes were too unfocused to read the words, I recognized her shaky cursive, it was indeed a letter from my dear Sasha.

"What does it say?"

The Inquisitor spun it towards herself and began to read.

"Dear Mother,

I have not had any word from you in some months. They tell me that you are still alive. Why do you not write?

I found your locket today, the heart-shaped one with the picture of grandma in it, the one you hid under your mattress when they arrested you. It made me cry, just holding something that used to be yours. I know I should smash it and eradicate the Earth-bound taint, but I could not bring myself to destroy something so precious. Does that make me a rebel? Was that your crime? Or did you really try and destroy the factory, as they say?

You need to write me because I don’t know what to do. I am to join the Youth League next year. But how can I support the Party if they imprisoned you unjustly? How can I be a part of this world? You must tell me if you are guilty or innocent. If you are innocent, then I wish to become a rebel like you. If not, then I never want to hear from you again.

Love, Sasha."

Tears poured down my cheeks, dripping onto my thighs. The Inquisitor folded the letter and tossed it towards me.

"Why don't you write her back? Tell her exactly what you did. That's an opportunity few prisoners get, the chance to write their own confession. You’ll probably get a milder sentence from the judge if you word it right. Unless of course, you want to continue protesting your innocence, in which case you will remain here and your daughter will spend the rest of her short life as a pariah."

There was nowhere to hide. I’d ridden a rocket ship to escape one planet, now there was nowhere to run. The Party was Luna, I was nothing but a feeble insect. I picked up the pen, my writing was jerky and unrefined.

"Dear Sasha,

It's all true, I put a wrench in the machine. I am guilty.

Smash the bloody locket."