To my surprise, I've had my own suit ready for some time. It was waiting in the changing room of the café's pressurized parking lot. Winston had thought that when I was ready, I would ask to be let out. Somehow, it made me feel like a dog begging to go for a walk. Or maybe a cat scratching at the door. Not like Pearl, though, because she would probably just shred the door to pieces and go as she pleased. So maybe just a normal cat that doesn't want to use the litter box. No one else in the café would have thought of that comparison but me. Except Pearl. She looked at me with the most cat-like, crooked smile that only Pearl can give.
Be that as it may, I longed for space around me after spending all this time within these walls. Time, which was becoming increasingly unclear to me. Winston couldn't come to watch over me, so I was accompanied by Mrs. M's husband, Mr. M. The couple lived in a ship some distance from the café building. It was docked at a service pier, which also served as a logistics hub. Mr. and Mrs. M would walk this short distance across the moon's surface to get to the café building. Exotic for me, normal everyday life for others.
From the very beginning, Mr. M seemed like a really nice guy. I am not a talkative person, nor am I outgoing in any way. Either Mr. M is similar, or he read my inner thoughts in a way that few people have been able to. Putting on the suit didn’t require any special instructions. It opens from the back like a giant coverall, and all that's left to do is hop in". The biggest task was probably taking off my own clothes and put on the tight-fitting jumpsuit-like undergarment. I felt a bit naked, but, the suit maintains perfect conditions.
The moment when the outer airlock door opened, and I realized I was in a vacuum, will surely remain in my memory forever. That one step made a huge difference, as the small rattles and whispers I’d heard inside the pressurized sections were gone. I still felt the vibrations through my suit, but the soundscape seemed like wiped clean. Mr. M was silent and just let me soak up the moment. It was so powerful that my stomach cramps made me feel like it was quickly trying to escape through my rear end.
Right after stepping outside the airlock, I felt a strange lightness". The surface of the moon was covered with powdery, springy feeling dust. My insides did a backflip and were suddenly filled with giggling butterflies. I think I giggled, too. As I began to pay closer attention to my surroundings, I gained a better understanding of the physics involved. The moon's gravity is so weak that even a sneeze would send me into orbit without the control provided by my suit. It kept me gently on the surface, with small jets of gas released rhythmically from my shoulders to match my steps.
Stolen story; please report.
I turned around and looked at the café building. We hadn't gone very far yet, but now it looked insignificant in this incomprehensibly vast environment. How did anyone find it? Mr. M said that this moon was only quarter mile in diameter, so we wouldn't get lost too far away. As long as the gas keeping us grounded didn't run out. The moment of awe just kept on stretching. The sky was clear and black. Stars didn’t flicker at all. They just shone like cosmic spotlights. The rings of Saturn looked like a highway, and we sped along on it with our tiny moon. Saturn itself gleamed and shed light on us but didn’t blind. If I ever had used drugs, the pinnacle of trips would probably look like this.
We walked toward the service dock with a strangely relaxed, almost intoxicatingly smooth gait. Mr. M had a task waiting there, for which he needed an extra pair of hands. It made sense to take care of it while we were out and about. In an environment like this, resources were not wasted. We were to move some transport crates on the platform.
There were ten of them, and each one was tied separately to the dock. We moved them to the storage area waiting behind the side hatch of Mr. and Mrs. M's ship. The ship was large, and there was more than plenty of room. It felt strange to move boxes that felt like they weighed nothing. However, they certainly had mass. They were arduous to stop once you got them moving. I learned that the hard way when I slammed one into the ship's wall.
As I examined the damage, I saw what the cargo was. Red wine. I'm not a wine lover, so I'm definitely unfamiliar with the different wine regions of France. But is there even a Durgun-Birgun-Dirgun region? And what kind of fermentation produces wine that’s 96% alcohol? The strange smell in my bathtub crept into my memory. Did someone bathe in this stuff? You'd think they'd be disinfected if nothing else.
Mr. M said my minor mishap was no big deal. I guess one has to learn this job somewhere. The bottles remained intact and the dent in the wall was minimal. Mrs. M could fix it in no time if necessary. After finishing our work, we went inside. I would finally meet Mrs. M. But I’ll tell you more about this and our conversations in my next post. This one has already gained some length.
Till next time.
- Johnny