The Blue-Haired Bombshell (22 page)

Sputnik grinned. This time, I wasn’t sure if he was actually happy or acting. He clasped his hands together. ‘‘In that case, let us begin the tour before somebody or something else attacks Mr. Johnson,’’ he said.

‘‘Probably a good idea,’’ I agreed.

Bo Sputnik patted me on the back, ‘‘Then let’s go, my friend. I’m sure you’ll see what a wonderful, love-filled place of science and wonder the Moon is.’’

Chapter 23

We exited the hotel and split into two groups. Carol and Melda went one way in a cute little bright orange, two-seat domed car; a car so small it looked like they could pedal it.

On the other end of the spectrum, our vehicle was a long and sleek red stretch carriage all-element hover. Besides myself, my group consisted of Sputnik, Lea, an ape driver, another ape riding shotgun, two more additional ape security ‘‘men,’’ and two young, tall, light-blue-haired Asian looking girls named Windee and Aprill. For a guy who claimed to rule a love-filled world, Sputnik traveled with a lot of security.

As we drove through the sparkling clean streets of the Moon, Sputnik lectured about this and that. How, due to its controlled environment, the Moon was much more sterile than the Earth. I couldn’t argue. The entire place looked and felt as if it was constantly being washed and waxed. Of course it should look clean— most of the buildings were less than twenty years old.

While Sputnik droned on about the virtues of the Moon, I took in the sights, confident HARV was getting down any information I might need.

The first thing that stood out was that the streets weren’t nearly as crowded and as congested as your average big Earth city streets. Sure there were people moving all about, but they certainly were able to keep ample space between them. The general Moon populace seemed slimmer and trimmer than the general Earth populace. Even without the blue or blue-streaked hair it would have been easy for my trained eye to separate your average Mooner from the average Earther. They just carried themselves differently.

The streets also seemed much more open than Earth streets. All the vehicles on the roads, except ours, were small, one- to three-person transportation devices. They looked like boxes on wheels with little domes over them. Apparently this was because on the Moon only a very select few have their own vehicles for transportation. Most of the populace shared interchangeable vehicles (I.V.s for short). One car type fits all. The Moon owned a fleet of compact, very boring cars that only varied by a user programmable color.

The vehicle we were riding in was a horse of a completely different color. It was huge and stuck out like the queen at a Roller Derby match. Our vehicle looked like one of those old horse-drawn carriages, sans the horses. I was surprised Sputnik didn’t attach a couple of robot steeds. The carriage had four rows of seats. The ape driver and his lookout ape sat in the first row of two cockpitlike seats. I was seated in the second row with Lea on my left and Sputnik on my right. The seats were so big and wide there was easily room for three more of us in this row.

The third row was also wide. Windee and Aprill were so slender they looked lost sitting there by themselves.

Bringing up the back were the other two ape security guards. They were big and bulky, even by gorilla terms. The sad thing was the back row only had about a quarter of the room the second and third rows did. I’ve seen canned sardines with more personal space. The apes didn’t seem to mind too much. Though, truthfully, it was a bit hard to tell since they had their eyes covered with sunglasses. I didn’t bother to point out to them that we were on the Moon in a controlled environment. I knew they knew this. I’m smart enough to understand that when the spam hits the fan you want the big apes with big guns on your side. You don’t go busting them about their strange choice in eyewear. Besides, it gave them a cool and aloof security dude kind of look.

‘‘You’re thinking about the apes in sunglasses, aren’t you?’’
HARV said in brain.

‘‘No,’’
I thought back flatly.

The word
LIAR
scrolled across my eyes.

‘‘Okay, maybe,’’
I thought back.

‘‘Those aren’t normal glasses,’’
HARV said.
‘‘They are actually communication devices, specially enhanced PIHI-Pods behind the earpieces that hold the glasses on. The apes are constantly receiving feedback from all over the Moon.’’

‘‘Why?’’
I asked.

‘‘To keep Sputnik safe,’’
HARV said.

Lea tilted her head and looked at me kind of strangely. ‘‘Are you okay, Zachary?’’ she asked.

‘‘Fine, fine,’’ I said.

Lea leaned over toward me. ‘‘I think it’s silly that the apes wear shades, too,’’ she whispered. She drew back and smiled. ‘‘Don’t know why they can’t wear regular PIHI-Pods . . .’’

I wasn’t sure what to make of Lea. Was that a warning? Was she actually agreeing with me? Could she pick through my mind that easily? Was it just a lucky guess? I guess time would tell.

The tour continued. We drove past a tall glass building that was the Moon’s Science and Learning Center. We didn’t go into the building as Sputnik said the scientists and researchers employed there were far too busy advancing technology and finding cures for diseases that didn’t even exist yet to be bothered by a tour. He pointed out that that was one of the advantages scientists on the Moon had: they were automatically well-funded so they didn’t have to kowtow and bend over backward to politicians and businesses begging for research money.

Next, we drove through the Moon’s Art and Culture Museum. When I say we drove through, I mean literally
drove through
. The museum was a drive-thru which, according to Sputnik, revolutionized the museum experience as patrons no longer had to get out of their vehicles to appreciate the art. The artists were happier as not only did more people get to see their work, but since the people were all in vehicles, that meant there would be much less touching of their work. The art for the most part (except for the cheese sculptures) wasn’t all that different from what I remembered seeing the last time I ventured to an Earth-based museum.

Leaving the museum, Sputnik nudged me in the ribs with his elbow. ‘‘So, Zach, what do you think of our lovely Moon so far?’’ he asked.

‘‘Well, I haven’t fallen asleep. So that’s a good sign,’’ I said.

Sputnik smiled. ‘‘You really are as witty as Melda said.’’

‘‘Really? We had such little contact back on Earth. Usually it takes people more time to truly appreciate my sense of humor,’’ I said.

‘‘Tell me about it,’’ HARV said appearing from my wrist communicator. ‘‘I’ve been with Zach for over seven years now and I am just barely able to comprehend his so-called wit.’’

Sputnik nodded. ‘‘Out of all my special wives, Melda is the most special,’’ he said. ‘‘She is much more perceptive than the average human.’’

‘‘
All
your wives?’’ I said, testing how he’d react.

‘‘Yes. Surely you understand we here on the Moon have more open views on marriage than most of Earth,’’ Sputnik said, his smile growing wider with the thought of each wife.

‘‘How many wives do you have?’’ I asked.

Sputnik shrugged. ‘‘I don’t count them,’’ he said casually, as if talking about his tie collection. Actually, no. From the finely pressed suit he was wearing, he probably spent more time thinking about his wardrobe.

‘‘Seven,’’ Lea, Windee, and Aprill all said at once.

‘‘Apparently others do count them,’’ I said.

‘‘Well I love each and every one of them,’’ Sputnik said.

‘‘Yes, I bet you do,’’ I agreed.

Sputnik looked away from me. ‘‘I can’t expect an Earther to understand,’’ he said, this time not even pretending to care about what I thought. Leaning over the seat he tapped the driver on the shoulder.

The ape driver turned back to see what Sputnik wanted. Sputnik pointed to at a fairly large dome-shaped building dominating the end of the street.

‘‘Pull over by the Tracking and Blocking Station. Let’s show Mr. Johnson why the Moon is so important.’’

The ape nodded in agreement and did as he was told. We drove up and parked in the large courtyard surrounding the unassuming looking building. It reminded me of an indoor tennis court.

Sputnik jumped out of the car first. He looked at me, urging me to follow. ‘‘Come on, Mr. Johnson. Let me show you our pride and joy.’’

I followed Sputnik out of the car. I turned to the women. ‘‘Are you ladies coming?’’ I asked.

Sputnik gave them an indifferent wave. ‘‘Nah, they don’t find this exciting at all.’’

‘‘He’s right,’’ Lea said.

‘‘I’ve seen it a million times,’’ Melda said.

‘‘Boring!’’ Aprill added.

Windee just bobbed her head in agreement.

‘‘We won’t be long,’’ Sputnik told his ladies.

He took my arm, nearly dragging me into the building. The building itself was one large room with a series of control panels running along the walls. The domed ceiling acted as a holographic planetarium and was dotted with stars. Working away, like busy little blue-haired beavers, were a blue-haired woman in her mid-forties, a young blue-haired man, and four smaller primates, which I quickly figured out were orangutans. (HARV told me that was because, as almost everybody knows, orangutans are much more suited for mental labor than gorillas. He then of course scolded me for not knowing this.) Humans and primates were all wearing bright yellow outfits that looked like a mix of jumpsuits and lab coats. They all snapped to attention when they saw Sputnik.

‘‘Mr. Sputnik, sir,’’ the lady said, ‘‘we didn’t know you would be dropping by today, unannounced.’’

Sputnik walked up to her. ‘‘I didn’t know I needed to report in.’’

A few beads of sweat formed on the woman’s head. You could tell she wanted to wipe them off but she didn’t. ‘‘No, sir. Of course not.’’

‘‘At ease,’’ Sputnik told the group. He pointed to me. ‘‘I’m just showing Mr. Johnson here the Moon’s pride and joy.’’

‘‘This is the Moon’s Asteroid Tracking and Blocking Station,’’
HARV whispered in my mind.

‘‘Yeah, kind of figured that out,’’
I mentally whispered back.

‘‘Zach, I’m sure you know what this place is?’’ Sputnik said, pointing to the ceiling.

‘‘See, Sputnik trusts my intelligence,’’
I thought to HARV.

‘‘He doesn’t know you that well,’’
HARV answered.

‘‘It’s the Moon’s Asteroid Tracking and Blocking Station,’’ I said.

‘‘Yes, the MAT&BS,’’ Sputnik spouted proudly. ‘‘This is the most important building to Earth and it’s here on the Moon. We keep Earth safe from nasty asteroids.’’

‘‘We all appreciate it,’’ I said with as much sincerity as I could fake.

He looked me dead in the eyes. I felt the eyes of the others in room lock on me. ‘‘Do you, Mr. Johnson? Do you?’’

Sputnik pointed upward to the dome. In midst of all the stars and satellites was one giant dot. ‘‘Do you see that?’’ He asked me.

I nodded.

‘‘That is asteroid Zeta Alpha Pi, it is twelve kilometers long by nine kilometers wide. It will pass by Earth tomorrow at noon eastern time, missing it by only ten thousand kilometers.’’

One of the orangutans pushed a control panel with his or her foot. A simulated path lit up on the dome. It showed the big rock spinning past Earth.

‘‘Close call,’’ I said, not being able to think of anything but the obvious.

Sputnik held up a finger. ‘‘Yes, but say it wasn’t going to miss . . . say its path was a mere one degree different.’’

The orangutan maneuvered his or her foot over the pad. The simulated path reversed then disappeared from the ceiling. The big rock changed course, dropping down, putting it on a direct collision course with the Earth.

‘‘If a rock of this size were to strike your planet, it would hit with more power than a blast from all the nuclear bombs currently on Earth,’’ Sputnik lectured, looking up at the ceiling. He lowered his head to my level. ‘‘Do you know what that means, Mr. Johnson?’’

‘‘It would be bad.’’

‘‘Bad?’’ he questioned.

‘‘Okay,
real
bad, of biblical proportions kind of bad,’’ I said.

‘‘It would destroy life on Earth as you know it,’’ Sputnik said, with a bit more glee in his voice than I was comfortable with.

‘‘Well, that is what I call bad,’’ I said.

‘‘But, thanks to us here on the Moon, that won’t happen,’’ Sputnik said proudly. ‘‘Because of our Moon-based deflector ray, we can gently push any Earth killers onto a different trajectery.’’

I looked up at the dome. It showed a beam of energy emanating from the Moon then hitting the incoming asteroid. The asteroid changed course and once again glided past the Earth.

Sputnik looked up and smiled. ‘‘Of course this is only a simulation to depict what happens. In real life it’s not so fast.’’

The orangutans and humans in the room nodded their heads in agreement.

‘‘Yeah, I kind of got that,’’ I said.

Sputnik leaned on one of the control panels. ‘‘So you see, Mr. Johnson, we saved Earth.’’

‘‘Well, you saved Earth from an asteroid that’s not really going to hit Earth,’’ I pointed out.

Sputnik’s smile straightened somewhat. ‘‘My point is, if it was going to hit, we wouldn’t have let it. We are constantly patrolling the skies, tracking thousands of objects.’’

‘‘And again, we thank you,’’ I said. ‘‘Well, not really you, I guess, but the people who work here.’’

Sputnik’s smile completely dissolved. ‘‘Those who work here work here at my pleasure,’’ he said. I was kind of expecting him to stomp his foot. If he wasn’t such a well-trained politician he probably would have.

‘‘I’m sure,’’ I said. ‘‘The point is, the asteroid was going to miss Earth. But believe me we on Earth are grateful that you’ve got our backs.’’