Robyn Cast, President of Luna, had been staring at the sink for 20 minutes. She stood motionless beneath the showerhead, relishing the primal comfort of heat radiating from the near scalding water. Her body was on autopilot, ancient directions luring it to warmth and keeping it there. Gradually, the unconsciousness was washed away and more lights in her brain flickered on like crystals in a cave. Thoughts began to fade in: hunger, stress, today's agenda. And then she was awake.
She forcibly shook her head and rubbed her face with her hands, pushing hard into her exhausted eyes. Overriding the content autopilot, Robyn stepped out of the water to wash herself. This was becoming a habit, waking up over the course of half an hour was surely inefficient. Not to mention the disorientation of gaining consciousness in the shower with no memory of actually waking up and climbing in. It was not helping with the hangover.
She focussed on washing and tried not to drift away again. With the haze of fatigue gone, the various aches and pains pushed their way to attention. Every joint creaked in protest, her knees and ankles labouring under even the relatively weak pull from Luna beneath her. The muscles in her thighs and back were tense and sore, restricting how easily she could bend down to clean below her knees. The worst part was that all of this was her own fault. The price for a rushed session of exercise the night before with exceedingly amateur form. At the time, she had underestimated just how strict the delayed punishment would be. It didn't seem fair that after mustering the enthusiasm to finally use the equipment that usually gathered dust in a forgotten corner of her apartment. The only payoff was making the following morning worse with a low and constant discomfort. The throbbing from her head, however, was unrelated.
Once every ache had enjoyed its share of attention, her mind wandered to more intellectual issues. The anniversary was only a month away, and the UN summit was this week. It would all happen at once now. Every plan and meeting, every win and loss, would be realised. As soon as this week was over, she could let go of months of pent-up stress. But only after it was all done; she could not relax a moment before. She sighed and closed her eyes tight, stepping back under the water. There wasn't anything she could do from the shower. That energy would be better spent in the meeting today, where anxieties could be quelled with contingencies and compromises. She tilted her head up away from the showerhead and let out a long breath through her teeth. Hoping to suppress the thoughts for just another hour. She shook the last of the sleep away, switched off the water, and strode out into the bathroom.
Swiping the condensation off the wall panel next to the sink revealed she'd spent almost 40 minutes soaking and posturing. Shit. Annoyed by the self-imposed rush, she reached for a towel with one hand whilst working the panel with the other. The stretching invoking a stab of protest from some muscle near her shoulder. She set the air filters to maximum to clear the humidity and began to dry herself. Even when wet, her hair still hovered in the low-g. Forming an irritating dirty-blonde halo with each sharp head movement. Although still short, like most women on Luna, it was starting to tickle at her shoulders. A haircut was overdue. She'd do it after this week.
After most of the water had been removed from both the air and her body, she tossed the towel back over a rail and marched into her bedroom. Employing a rushed, but practised, low-g shuffle, she threw open the wardrobe and began to get dressed. The apartment was larger than almost every other on Luna, but still modest when compared to those on Earth equivalent to her station. She enjoyed an uncommon sacrifice of efficiency which granted a generous footprint and a guest bathroom and bedroom. As well as the scales (in a rare exception) favouring aesthetics over practicality in most aspects of the interior and exterior design.
The most obvious privilege of course was that she lived above ground. A stark contrast to the vast majority of Lunars. Living in optimised lattices of min-maxed, copy-pasted quarters tens of metres below the Lunar rock. She had hoped to occupy a similar domicile. The literal superiority and loss of solidarity with her citizens made her uncomfortable. Not to mention that every square metre of land above ground was precious. The domes could only be built so big, the small pockets of atmosphere they contained could be better utilised. She had been convinced by her peers, however. They had cited appearance and security reasons. Robyn suspected the creation of a precedent for above-ground housing for high-profile politicians had been omitted from their motives.
Once the last button of her shirt was fastened, she spun around and spread apart the curtains. She had declined the installation of automatics. Having always enjoyed the satisfaction of throwing them open herself. The Sun wasn't visible out the bedroom window, but enough of its light poured through that she had to blink hard twice while her eyes adjusted. The apartment was close to the northern edge of the dome and stood on a natural hill. Every morning, for a few seconds, she took in the unchanging and unmoving pale expanse that stretched beyond the city. This, she thought, was the greatest liberty of living above ground. A view every morning that only two decades ago had been seen by a mere handful of humans. Even with the time pressure, she took the few moments. She refused to ever take this view for granted.
Satisfied, and after a final yawn, she made her way into the kitchen. A glance at the clock confirmed there'd only be time to reheat some leftovers. Frustrated, she grabbed a Tupperware from the fridge. Some form of pasta with a tomato sauce that smelt strongly of garlic. The portion hardened into a solid block against the plastic. She almost threw it into the microwave and paced across the room for a fork from the sink – The air starting to fill with the garlic scent. In the rush, she kicked an empty wine bottle that had been standing on the floor. It skidded and rolled before she caught up to it. On Earth it might have smashed, but not up here. She grabbed it by the neck and turned to put it in the bin, only to realise it was beyond full. As was the bin bag slumped against it. She resigned to make room and place it on the counter – with the others. The whole apartment was obviously in need of cleaning. She'd do it after this week.
She leaned against the counter as the microwave whirred. A brief stab of pain from her lower back reminded her of the weights lying in a haphazard pile across from her in the living room. She winced; the regret was only growing. There had once been a regiment to follow. The idea being to gradually bring back the strength that had been lost over 8 years in a sixth of a g. Joints, muscles and bones got lazy when they weren't put to work. Regular exercise was crucial to all Lunars and was strongly encouraged and provided by the government. Certainly, the recommendation wasn't to strap on all the weights for a high intensity workout. In a vain attempt to make up for months of procrastinated preparation. Benefits were minimal and downsides were obvious. It wouldn't even matter, Robyn convinced herself. She wasn't one of the lanky kids who'd lived their whole lives on Luna. The first 28 years of her life had been spent under Earth's passionate gravity. She will be ready for the UN summit this week. Besides, how much she'd weigh wasn't among her chief concerns.
There she went worrying again. She tried to ground herself as she poured a glass of water. Thinking of the journey that water had taken. Most of it collected and melted at the polar ice sheets, some came from closer sites. Pumped south to Plato and into the recycling system. She thought of how all the water on Earth had been shuffled around for billions of years. Sucked in and out of every living creature that had ever existed. The water she was drinking, in contrast, was a cosmic permafrost. Lying untouched for those billions of years – she was the first organism to ever drink it. Of course, most of it would have been recycled having passed through the inhabitants of Luna. But at least some molecules in her glass would be fresh from the permafrost... It tasted identical to any other glass of water she'd ever had.
She thought of the electricity powering the city, her apartment and the microwave nearing the end of its cycle. The Sun was shining on Plato, so the solar farms would be burdening most of the load. Square kilometres of panels which were only getting more efficient as the field progressed. There was no amount of optimising however, that could make the solar panels work at night. So it was in the two-week long nights that Plato ran on 100% nuclear. Fission only, the requirements were low enough and there was ample space such that Luna needn't chase the fading promise of fusion. Unlike every major nation on Earth.
The microwave chimed and she began to eat straight from the plastic. Shovelling down mouthfuls between nervous glimpses at the clock. She went to turn on the TV to fill the silence of the otherwise empty apartment, but she couldn't find the remote. It would have just been distracting anyway. Robyn licked the fork clean and threw everything into the sink. Fork and Tupperware tracing a slow arc before clattering against the heap of dirty plates. The food was another thing she resisted hard not to take for granted, even if it was only leftovers just shy of going off. Everything had been grown and produced locally. Tomatoes basking in the sunlight of an airless sky. Genetically modified radiation resistant crop. Life sprouting from enriched moondust. It was a testament to how far they'd come, literal fruits of their labour.
Her handheld buzzed in her pocket signifying she should have left by now. She hurried back to the bathroom, getting her socks wet on the still damp floor. Snatching up the toothbrush she began to scrub thoroughly in the hopes to remove most of the garlic. Determined not to be any later, within 5 minutes her face was made-up, shoes were on, and she was putting the second arm through her suit jacket whilst heading for the door. Checking her watch a final time with one hand on the handle, she noticed a small white thread poking out from her right sleeve. She tugged at it impatiently but it just kept coming. Defeated, she tucked the length back into the sleeve. The suit was well-worn, and it would probably be best to grab a new one. She'd do it after this week.
Outside, the Sun hung in the deep black sky. Night and day at once. The hill the apartment stood on had been terraformed, covered in grass and dotted with some of the oldest trees on Luna. Robyn considered how these trees had never known winter or summer, nor true rainfall. Watered only by the sprinklers spread out across the lawn. From the front door to the road below was a gravel path. Running along the centre of this path was a thin white strip: Grip. The half sponge, half Velcro material had been the first poster child of the materials science renaissance the colonisation of Luna had brought. With shoes also lined with Grip, one could walk as they did on Earth without floating off. Once they got their head around the tip-toe action needed to stick and unstick that is. Robyn traced the narrow line as she descended the hill.
It had once been a common sight to see arrival ports lined with tourists from Earth. Rooted like trees as they struggled to take their first Grip assisted steps. Lunars had once been happy to help. Laughing with the visitors as they got unstuck. Exchanging 'Welcome to Luna' pleasantries with a smile and a handshake. It wasn't like that anymore.
The hill was surrounded by a security perimeter. Metal fencing atop a concrete wall that tried hard but failed to not look ugly. It needed to be built frustratingly high on Luna. At the end of the path stood the tall, reinforced gate which opened swiftly as Robyn approached. The man sitting in the security booth next to the gate, Alex, smiled and nodded in her direction.
"Good morning Madam President"
Robyn smiled back. "Good morning Alex"
The woman sitting behind him, Sadie, nodded a greeting as she sipped from a mug. Robyn continued to the road where a driverless taxi was waiting. They were the main mode of transport in Plato. There were various models and designs, this one was a few generations behind. Its body was a highly reflective silver colour. Robyn's reflection warped and stretched as she got closer and the door opened. There were two doors, halfway down the length of each side. The small step beneath these doors and the four coverings of the wheels gave the taxis a six-legged look. This coupled with how they appeared from orbit, dozens of them scurrying across the streets, was why they were informally dubbed Ants.
Inside, the space was almost all seating. The floor, walls and roof were black – with flecks of white and silver dotted throughout. The seats were a dark grey, with silver seatbelts and lines of white fabric separating each of the eight seats. A series of lights crowned the interior where the walls met the roof, glowing a warm red. Robyn climbed in as she had hundreds of times before, the door closing automatically behind her.
She tapped a screen at the front of the vehicle and a figure appeared. A large circle surrounded by six smaller multicoloured circles. A top-down view of Plato. The smaller circles were the minor domes, each named after a colour. Red was at the top and was blinking on the display to indicate where the ant was currently. Then, going clockwise: Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue and Indigo. In the centre was a dome twice the size of the others, named Spectrum. Together, the seven domes comprised the city of Plato. So named after the crater it was built in.
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Robyn tapped Spectrum and a list appeared on screen. Showing suggested destinations within the selected dome. At the top of the list was where she was heading. The central government building of Luna: The Prism. Robyn selected it and sank into a chair, nursing an ache in her neck with her hand. The ant began its journey and she made a final input on the screen, lowering all the windows for some fresh air.
All the colour symbolism was deliberate. Before humans had staked their claim on Earth's Moon, all it had known was shades of grey. Robyn was adamant that humanity's outpost on Luna be obnoxiously colourful. A vibrant bastion of life amongst the dead and grey.
The ant sped on; its artificial intelligence linked with all the others' to follow the fastest route to The Prism without running into anyone else. Traffic was rare up here; the computers were usually successful in minimising it. When it did show up, being president had its privileges. Robyn could enter an access code which gave her priority, but she didn't like to. Again, unnecessary loss of solidarity.
Looking outside, she saw the streets of Plato roll by. The density was not unlike most major cities on Earth, but the overall size was drastically smaller. The domes were among some of humanity's greatest scientific achievements. They shielded those within from the dramatic difference in heat between Lunar days and nights. Filtering the bulk of ionising radiation from the Sun. They stood firm, completely transparent in seamless sections, yet strong enough to withstand the rains of micrometeorites. Spectrum approached the maximum theoretical size and thus Plato's six-toed footprint was minimal.
Plato was of course built like an iceberg. Sprawling networks of housing quarters and life-support systems stretched out like roots below the surface. A Lunar could happily spend their whole day without stepping above ground. There were dining areas and entertainment dens carved out into the rock. With hallways and chambers splashed with colour as generously as they were above.
On the surface, roads and walkways cut the space into blocks. There were bars and shops and social spaces. Sculptures and restaurants and dentists. The currency was Lunar Dollars, people worked and researched and fell in love. Their city in the stars was as real as any other. Wherever the frontier, human connection seemed inevitable.
Grip lined the walkways, ants filled the roads. They ate fake meat, drank synthetic alcohol and breathed recycled air. They followed an arbitrary clock and trusted it to count sixty while the days stretched long and the nights stretched longer. Plato had the largest proportion of scientists in its population than any other city in history. Some worked within Plato, most worked elsewhere. At the polar research stations or the far-side telescopes. The non-scientists worked to keep the promise of Plato alive. Many in construction and maintenance - often working in vacuum. There were the farmers and engineers. Buggy drivers and shuttle pilots. Then there were those with very terrestrial jobs, whose work days looked most like their equivalent on Earth, just with a change of scenery. The bankers, journalists and business owners. Robyn supposed she fell within that last category.
The ant approached the southern edge of the dome and slowed. Descending the ramp before entering the short underground tunnel which connected domes. These were the most common choke points for traffic. On this particular morning she was lucky, after the vehicle had made its near instant calculations, it proceeded into the tunnel. Inside the ant, the red lights faded to darkness before lighting up again in a rotating rainbow pattern. Symbolising the transfer from Red to Spectrum. The vivid display continued to decorate the interior as the ant surfaced on the other side.
Spectrum was Plato's - and by extension Luna's - jewel. Housing the very best of modern human ingenuity. Robyn passed the campus of the University of Luna. A handsomely funded institution which led the solar system in the emerging fields of science. Whilst protecting the other branches of academia that had stagnated in the recent years of Earth. The labs and lecture halls and libraries were nestled within Luna's finest green spaces, restaurants and art exhibits. On the other side of the dome, but still visible, stood St. Catherine's. The classically gothic cathedral designed to make full use of the low gravity. Its spire scraped the curved, glass sky. The early Lunar concrete that comprised it shining a proud and bright white.
She saw her people soaking in the early 'morning' as she drove by. Business owners setting up for the day. Women chatting on a park bench. A student who probably hadn't slept yet stumbling against a tree. Plato was alive, and that was incredible. Whatever this week would bring, whatever may happen at the anniversary or the summit. As long as Plato still stood by the end, this insane human achievement could still be celebrated.
At last, the ant slowed to a stop, and Robyn had arrived at The Prism. The doors hissed open vertically, giving the ant its wings. She stepped out onto the wide, paved path which gradually narrowed as it reached The Prism's front entrance. The path was a smooth black stone decorated with occasional long streaks of colour like scratches. Either side of it stretched two treeless lawns, empty for now, but later in the day would be dotted with people. Enjoying the grass and earth with a picnic or a frisbee. So government employees walked the path, tracing the coloured streaks, surrounded by who and what they were fighting for.
The Prism itself was rather small. The main body looked similar to a warehouse. Two sloping roofs met in a gentle apex, with beams covering the front walls in a black and white hexagonal lattice. Jutting out from the front was a tall equilateral triangle with its highest point standing taller than the body's apex. It was transparent but had a slight hue of dark emerald green on the edges where the glass was thickest. From any distance, one could see refractions dancing in the corners like spilled petrol.
Everyone on the path this early in the morning worked for the government. Most of them fiddled with a briefcase or muttered breathlessly into their handhelds. They didn't seem to notice her. Robyn had forced herself to adapt to her celebrity status over the eight years of her presidency. At work it wasn't too bad, she knew almost everyone by name anyway, and she could pretend she was only another position in the bureaucracy.
Elsewhere, the recognition was more uncomfortable. People treated her like something she wasn't. A genius or an icon, a person somehow superior to others. They acted like they owed her for their lives, that she had built Plato. When the truth was that every man, woman and child had contributed equally. That in those early days the mad woman shouting from a stage would have just been noise without the world-changing talent and bone-breaking effort of those first fifteen thousand. Everyone had sacrificed and endured for Plato, and if Robyn needed to take on the embarrassment of false credit, then she would endure. For Plato.
She stepped into the pointed shadow of the triangular entrance as it loomed above her. The stream of people narrowed and slowed as they shuffled through the large glass doors. They fanned out into short queues to pass security, glancing at watches and fishing ID cards out of pockets. Robyn cut across to the far left side where a security guard - Jordan - spotted her and swiped open a gate.
"Good morning Madam President"
"Good morning Jordan"
Hurrying through, she smiled wordless greetings at the receptionist and a few others that had taken notice. She turned onto a hallway and sped down it, tip-toeing across the Grip. At the far end was her destination, the room she would spend most of today in. At least until everything about the summit had been settled. She placed one hand on the handle, sighed, breathed in sharply through her nose, then entered conference room one.
Inside were the nine men who made up the cabinet. The murmurs of conversation hushed as she entered. Chairs scraped against carpet as the men rose to their feet. The room was dominated by a large oval table. Documents and handhelds spread across it, neatly placed in front of the ten seats. A huge window covered one wall, looking out over Spectrum. The spire of St. Catherine's towering above rows of buildings. The three other walls were covered with tesselating displays. Idle for now, blinking a stylised graphic of Plato with 'The Prism' printed below.
She crossed the room and took her place at the head, Vice President Arthur Crane stood close on her right.
"As you were." She said, a drop of sarcasm mixed into the formality. Everybody took their seats.
"We were just gossiping." Said Hideyoshi Toshiko, treasury secretary. Robyn glanced at Arthur.
"There's chatter at the University about some meteorite," Arthur said, "No details yet." Hideyoshi smiled wide as he poured himself a glass of water from a pitcher in the centre of the table. Everyone else straightened the pages in front of them and fixed their posture. Enough delaying then, Robyn thought. Now she was here, it was time to do their jobs. She prompted Arthur with another glance. He nodded and looked out over the table, waiting for undivided attention. Once Hideyoshi had placed his glass back down, he began.
"We will begin with the matter of the summit." For ten minutes the room listened, his overview was thorough and without any surprises. The UN peace summit for 'Peace Within The Solar System' had been planned for months. A push for collaboration and diplomacy across mankind's new frontier. It was always tense when the powers of Earth and the free people of Luna clashed. Of course this time it was worse, being the first meeting between Earth and Luna since the November Escalation. It was likely to be the diplomatic event of the decade.
A few weeks before there had been an unexpected change of venue. Instead of at the headquarters in New York, world leaders would be convening at Limina, the largest of the orbital stations.
"An olive branch" Arthur explained, "They're sparing President Cast re-entry and take-off and inflicting it on themselves. A small step onto the moral high ground." Robyn was grateful that the trip would be a lot gentler, but she could never admit it. She would still have to prepare for a full g however, as Limina was spun up to simulate Earth's gravity.
Regardless there was another aspect of the venue change that Arthur had missed. A second political move: they'd robbed her of an excuse to see Earth. To touchdown on her homeworld and breathe its air. Now if she visited when she was so close, it would be an admittance of discomfort, or homesickness. Robyn considered the move a waste anyway. She had no desire to be back beneath an atmosphere.
Arthur continued. "In terms of discussion, we know that everyone will want to debate the helium trade." Minutes passed, the same stale politics. Robyn was hit with a surge of frustration and boredom.
"And same old, same old." She interrupted. "They'll make ridiculous demands, we'll refuse. Then they can turn back to their press and preach that they tried diplomacy. But the illegitimate occupiers of Luna aren't complying."
Arthur wore a sympathetic smile. "Unfortunately, it does seem to be that simple." He put his hands together in front of him and looked at them for a moment. "Frankly that seems to be the aim of the whole summit." He looked back up at the table. "The wounds of the November Escalation can't be healed with one three day meeting. It's a pretext like you said, it's their bare minimum."
"It is the right thing to do, Madam President," Victor Sagdiyev said from the far end of the table. He was always serious, with a voice that you could feel vibrating in your own chest when he spoke. "Refuse the insults they call compromise. They don't get to take a centimetre of what's ours without fair trade. Not after November."
There was a solemn silence for a few seconds. Which Hideyoshi broke.
"Well, we know where their diplomatic efforts are really centred." Everyone groaned, and the atmosphere warmed.
"We can come back to the summit and do a quick overview of that?" Arthur said, looking at Robyn for approval. She nodded.
The Wedding. Earth's approach to mending relations with Luna was decidedly more medieval than one might expect. Henry Silverwood was once something of a hero on Luna. The commander of the military throughout Plato's tumultuous birth up to and including the November Escalation. After securing glory, trouble began when he fell in love with a girl from Earth. Not any girl from Earth, but the daughter of the King of England.
Princess Olivia was the best thing that had happened to the English Monarchy in almost a century. And Earth was moving all-in on the spiritual connection with its Moon, rather than any kind of legislative one. During a total lunar eclipse. In Luna's own St. Catherine's. On the exact anniversary of the November Escalation. Love would conquer the arbitrary lines that divide us. Or at least, that's what all the papers would try and sell.
Robyn and her cabinet had been against this union from the beginning. But with the most powerful nations on Earth all pushing it, there was little they could do.
"It's undecided as to who is attending and who isn't." Arthur was saying. "The British Prime Minister will definitely be there, as well as the leaders of several Commonwealth nations." Everyone was a bit brighter now, the absurdity bringing some levity. "It seems that other world leaders are waiting for the outcome of the summit before announcing whether they will be attending." They definitely won't be, Robyn figured. Just waiting on that same pretext.
Conference room one was cheerful now. Earth would never take them seriously, but that would never matter. They weren't there to be taken seriously. They were there for Plato. For Luna.
The moment was undercut when the door swung open. Alexander Manning calmly entered the conference room. He was Henry Silverwood's replacement and current commander of Luna's military. Hideyoshi hadn't noticed and was talking about something to do with China. Alexander waited patiently. Which was unusual. Robyn gave Hideyoshi two more sentences before she had to tell him to be quiet. Then he noticed Alexander at the door.
"What is it Alexander?" Robyn asked. He strode into the room and stood in front of the displays opposite the window. His face seemed more pale than usual.
"I am sorry to disturb you Madam President." He started, there was something off about his tone, but his expression was unreadable. "I know today's conference is important, but there is something you should see." He tapped his handheld and the displays behind him formed a solid image.
It was from a camera fixed to a buggy. The scene was in vacuum and a suited man that Robyn vaguely recognised was staring at some kind of machine. The video began to play, a small block of data in the bottom corner had a map showing where the incident took place. Not too far outside the city. There was a label reading 'meteorite site'.
"Is this something to do with that meteor?" Robyn asked. Alexander swallowed, and an emotion finally resolved on his face. Fear. He looked her dead in the eyes.
"No, this is about a homicide."