The Man in the Moon
by David Upshal

The man in the moon ate cheese. He would have much preferred a hotdog or a hamburger; but tonight, nonetheless, he ate cheese. Cheese was a very rare thing on the moon, for it was a myth that the place was made of the stuff. The moon was made of hard impenetrable rock, covered in sand and rubble, coloured grey, red and brown.

The man in the moon went on nibbling his piece of cheese, staring blankly over the soft terrain. He was on the light side and the sun's solar energies lit up the surface brightly.

The cheese was the last of Charlie McCoy's fresh food supply. He would be back on a diet of tasteless high fibre nutrition pills after this. So he indulged his taste buds to the full, savouring each sparing mouthful and making it last as long as he could. He almost resented letting it pass from his mouth and down his throat, for he knew it would be the last `real' food he would have the pleasure of tasting until the supply ship came. And that could be as far away as never the way things were down on Earth at the moment.

He was sitting still now, nothing to do except wait for his food to digest. He reached slowly for the coffee cup on the desk before him. He took a sip and placed it down again.

Suddenly his ears pricked up and he froze, visibly alerted.

There it was - that sound again.

It was repeated.

Charlie got to his feet, his every movement slowed by caution. Tensely, he edged towards the door.

The noise was coming from down in the basement area. Down where the power engines were housed. The energy reserves and control units. They - whoever they were - were down in the heart of the station - his station. And that wasn't right. Charlie should be there alone.

When the others had left, called back to earth, Charlie had `volunteered' to stay behind - drawn the short straw in the contest to decide who would keep the place in running order until the Patrol Shuttle came back.

Save for Charlie the station was deserted now. There was no-one else left - no-one human!

Charlie tensed slightly in fearful excitement. He picked up the laser rifle that lay on the desk. It was designed primarily for repair work, but its laser-emitting barrel served as a potentially lethal weapon.

Gaining a sense of security from the metal barrel in his hands, Charlie ventured into the corridor. Tensing his finger on the trigger he released the safety mechanism and made toward the basement area.

A door confronted him, bearing the words `OUT OF BOUNDS - AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT'. Charlie kicked the door open and rushed in. Hugging his back to the wall he pointed the laser rifle down into the maze of hollow tubular pipes and unmoving grey tombs which housed the power generators and energy reserves.

He stayed still for some time as his eyes quickly scanned the area. No-one was visible. The place looked empty. Slowly and still ever cautious he made his way across the balcony. It stretched all the way around the upper level of the basement of the chamber, forming a thin metal perimeter. Anything down there would become visible to him at one angle or another. The walkway of the upper level balcony rattled metallically with his movement.

In a few moments he had gone all the way around it. He had observed every inch in the space below. Whatever had been in there was gone!

Charlie hurried out. His fear was over-ridden now by the desire to find the source of the noise he had heard.

He jumped into the Joy Buggy and, pressing the button marked `IGNITION', he thrust into a forward burst of speed. The light plastic vehicle bobbed on its absurdly large rubber wheels as it travelled through the corridors. Swinging round the endless corridors at reckless speed he checked the four exit passages one by one. All the airlocks were sealed. That meant it must still be inside... somewhere.

He turned and drove back, passing the basement door and reaching the main conference hall. Here he stopped briefly and looked around him. Then the Joy Buggy lurched into movement and bounced its way towards the control room. But his visual search confirmed only that the place remained exactly as he had left it earlier.

There was only one place left unsearched: the Dining Hall. Charlie pulled up outside the Dining Hall's outer doors. The menu chart still hung from the black doors, stating serving times. Charlie pushed the entry door open and confronted the rows of tables, rifle in hand and poised upright. He tiptoed his way gently around the tables, his every step taken tentatively. Nothing else moved. The unbroken silence was unnerving.

He looked over across the tables from corner to corner, then knelt and searched beneath them.

Exasperated he stared up at the next set of doors. The kitchens.

Striding straight in he found himself immediately plunged into darkness - rendered blind, lost, vulnerable. The blackness overwhelmed him with anxiety: anything could be waiting, about to catch him and he wouldn't be able to see. Frantically, Charlie groped for the light switch. After a moment of panic the light flickered into life and mercifully illuminated the room. But despite his fears - and his readiness to fire at anything that should move - he found nothing lurking there. All was still and empty - as quiet and as tranquil as ever.

Charlie gazed persistently, sighting stainless steel utensils, stainless steel pots and pans, stainless steel urns and bowls, stainless steel this and stainless steel that; all shining silver and glittering like jewels in the light. The reflections grew more dazzling the longer he looked. At last he turned away frustrated and returned the room to darkness.

Where was it?

Where was it?

The thing that had made those noises. Where had it gone?

Charlie was becoming more nervous and obsessed with it. The finger on the trigger grew exceedingly happy now.

The Joy Buggy carried him back to the room where he had begun his search; from where he had heard those disturbing sounds; where he had eaten his cheese and drunk his coffee.

Where was it? He wracked his brain strenuously for possibilities.

Then he filled up his head with safeguards. He needed precautions, being so alone. He must reactivate the locking system on the doors for a start.

Hey, but wait a minute! There was one thing that hadn't occurred to him before. The sleeping quarters were situated directly through from the control room. He hadn't counted on the chance of them going through the control room itself after he had left it. That would have confounded his thoroughly-executed search.

They could be waiting for him now; planning, contemplating some vicious, stealthy deed. Or they could have used it as an avenue of escape. Through there and out of the Emergency airlock. That must be it.

Tightening his grip on the rifle he grimaced determinedly, but then remained strangely still. Something held him helplessly static, tottering timidly. Now it came to it - now that his moment of confrontation had arrived - he found himself unable to move. He daren't go in there. His sweaty grip on the rifle barrel slackened and his lip trembled. The excursion around the deserted station had reminded him of his isolation, reinforced the dreaded sense of desolation which had become his sole companion. He felt he wouldn't know what to do even if he found them.

Suddenly, however, it was no longer necessary for him to go and look. For now he knew. They had gone out of the airlock - the crafty little bastards. They had gone out of the Emergency Airlock and got out right over his head.

There they were - outside!

Charlie rubbed the condensation that fogged up the window panel. He could see them more clearly now. The little men made their way across the rugged, bumpy surface almost dancing in glee.

Charlie sighed. He had not the energy to go out there after them despite their taunting provocative retreat. The old man, grey-haired lined and weary, just had not the energy any more. Besides they never harmed him directly - just came and played their game with him; frustrating the old man like taunting children on a dare.

Only in the long term were they dangerous, and that was too far ahead to concern Charlie McCoy. They came to steal energy - that was what they fed on. He knew they would keep coming and steal a little electricity, purloin a little heat, take a little air, consume a bit of light, making the station a colder darker place for an old man to live in.

Charlie had been there too long and seen them too often. The frequency of their visits was increasing. Their confidence grew a little more each day - as Charlie's diminished. He had been here longer than any man should stay; longer than man was ever naturally intended to. The years had taken their toll. The years left alone in which he had grown older and weaker, losing all strength of mind.

Maybe something had happened to the Shuttle his colleagues returned to earth in and he was assumed dead too; maybe something had happened to earth itself - one of those wars they were always talking about; or perhaps they just forgot about Charlie McCoy altogether and abandoned him. Who could tell?

The man in the moon sat satisfied with himself. He rubbed his thick grey beard and said: "I'll getcha' yet ya' little rascals. I'll getcha'." And he contemplated new ways to foil his impish and naughty adversaries.

Moving himself back and forth gently in his seat the man in the moon rocked himself to sleep...