Eight years ago today, we lost the moon.
It may have been the single largest tragedy ever in the history of the planet, having caused the destruction of much of our civilization, as well as the disappearance of many species, some through direct catastrophe, many others by disrupting the cycles by which they bred and reproduced. There hasn't been as much sickness from the radioactive materials scattered in orbit from Farside Dump as we thought there would, but it has been bad enough--a thousand Chernobyls, covering much of the planet. It will be centuries before we know the true costs.
There's nothing in the sky at night anymore except the plain old stars and planets, just specks of light. No inspiring romantic glow filling the darkness of the night, no waning tiny sliver to just peek over the shoulder of the not-quite-dark sky.
No stepping-stone to the stars, either. Without the inspiration of the moon, few have cared to continue what we started. Even many of the Martians have come home, because they cannot yet feed themselves completely for so many there, and some came back to be with their families for what felt like the end of the world here on Earth.
Lastly, a dedication to those who were lost with Luna, at least some of whom were known to still be alive when we last had contact, but without supplies, without the sanity-preserving contact with home, cannot be expected to last indefinitely, and will likely not last even a generation. Yet some here feel the Lunatics are better off than we are, as they will not have to watch so much of their home die, to be reborn as a world alien to us as generations progress.
Michael Elliott
Phoenix, Arizona
September 13th, 2007
Michael Elliott writings and art and photos
