Unofficial Reverand Alex

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This is interesting...I have the beginning & the ending of the story written, but nothing in the middle! ^_^ In any case, what I'm interested in hearing feedback on is the ending. The story is about being sent as sheep among wolves; missionaries! I've always had a deep appreciation for sci-fi, so this is putting it out into the future, with lunar colonies. Being entirely atheists that go to live in their own lunar settlements, two men go off as partners to evangelize.

The ending I'm including is actually something I wrote today to channel the loneliness I keep feeling. I have wonderful friends, but I still know there's someone missing. I'm designed for a romantic relationship, and the lack thereof causes me pain every day. But I'm starting to see this as a blessing in disguise; I understand Christ's loneliness so much more, now that I have a taste of it in my own life! He hasn't taken the pain away, but He's given it meaning.:clap:

When I sat down to write out my loneliness, I realized it could work very well with the plot of my lunar missionaries, as a closing scene where Paul Heinlein, one of the missionaries, dies. At some point, I would have Ross, the partner, be separated. I don't know how, but the separation works into what I wrote. I may have an epilogue, where Ross comes back to give his partner a proper burial. I also just realized that I gave the name Paul to a missionary character--this was not intentional!^_^ Paul Heinlein is a name I've used before, and I thought I could put him in this story.

Without further ado, here is the beginning of the story. The ending, I'll put into the next post, as I'm sure it will need to be split up.

-----

Great missionaries of Christian history are people I’ve always heard stories of, but never thought I would experience. Furthermore, it confused me, as I saw converting people’s mindsets in foreign lands to be a rather odd thing to focus so much energy on, when there are so many needs to be filled where we already are. But as things have turned out, Lunar 5 was the site for just another sort of these missions, and I was in just the position to carry one out. Since the initial moon landing in the late 1960s, there was quite the lull with little human activity on our nearest celestial neighbor. But as crazy-rich nutjobs decided to create their own home on a distant land, far away from any taxes, beggars, or anything they don’t want to deal with. The moon truly is a dream home for people who want to get away from it all…for good.

This is how it all began, in the briefest manner I could think to describe the background of society and of my mindset. We pick up with my good friend Ross, who always has a unique way of looking at these things.





“Lunar 5? That’s the name of the landing site? And let me guess…Lunar 1 through 4 came before? My goodness, man, these names are lamer than the Canadian hockey teams!”

Ross let out a laugh. He was a man that always made people feel happy; wherever he was, you could be certain that a good-natured laugh at the absurdity of life would soon be heard for miles around.

I am Paul Heinlein, a distant relative of the great Robert Heinlein. My personality is far more calm; nothing much bothers me, even when things get stressful for everyone else. I take life in stride, walking this journey in a sort of peaceful & slow manner; Ross sees life as a comedy show, something with absurdities around every corner that are begging to be called out. Nothing bothers him, either, but he’s much louder about everything, in the best way possible. We have been good friends since childhood, and our common interest in space travel has led us to this unique point in world history. Of course, that term may need to be updated, as there’s no longer just one world we’ll be discussing.

We have both loved rocketry, space photographs, and the Air & Space Museum in D.C. Ross is one of the Jesuits, an intellectual elite among scientists and Catholics alike. I work with him, without taking the religious vows that would keep me from being able to marry someday. I am the more thoughtful, research-oriented one, while Ross is better at collaborating with the necessary people to make a large project work. His loud and fun disposition makes him hard not to like, and my generally quiet disposition makes me better suited for quiet research behind a computer.

We’ve been watching these recent lunar landings with great interest. I thought it was fascinating how technology has advanced so well that a single rocket could bring up the necessary supplies for an entire landing site; Ross occupied himself by laughing at the funny names of the astronauts. In any case, we both saw a great societal change happening before our eyes, as the richest of the rich take their entire fortunes into space, converting a lifetime of financial earnings into elaborate moon bases with swimming pools and bars like no other. What we saw happening, what everyone saw happening, was a new branch of society opening up; there is a group of tax-free, law-free, carefree people that are setting up in different craters across the moon, generating their own society from the ground up. Sociologists mainly focused on the question of how their governmental or educational facilities will arise, but Ross and I had a different focus.

What we saw was an atheistic utopia…but we knew that there was still something higher. Nothing is more important than souls, Ross would say. Up there, on the stony ball we can see every night…there’s a lot of souls that still need to be saved. Now Ross, he never struck me as the missionary type. He lived his vow of poverty devoutly, giving all his extra money to a church program that covers the rent for people who need a place to live. But his time was always spent in astronomical research, discovering more and more about God’s Creation beyond this planet. He was the favorite of the workers in these observatories, and certainly fulfilled a holy purpose in bringing joy into so many people’s lives. But going out there, wherever “there” may be, to bring the Gospel to people who had no knowledge of how it could change their lives…he’s never even mentioned wanting to do this! Frankly, neither had I. But both of us were fascinated by the growing moon society, and I suppose it’s only natural that we would want to be a part of it. If nothing is more important than souls, and nothing fascinates us more than everything “up there”, then bringing these two together will certainly be the best thing we could do.

Ross talked to his superiors, of course. They say the Jesuits are an order, not a democracy; authority overrules the general desires of the masses. But his superiors were thinking the same thing. They were too old for their bodies to handle the stresses of space travel, but Ross and I are both healthy young men with strong hearts, and already well-established among astronomers and astronaut trainers. Why not go for it?

We researched it. This would take a lot of money. Even with the resources of a professional astronomical lab behind us, we would have to be the first lunar nomads. There was no way we could invest so much in a permanent base; we would have to live in a small hut that we could carry on our backs. This would leave us susceptible to few dangers; there would be no wildlife to worry about, no thieves who would take from us. Meteor collisions would be a threat, but monitoring systems for such things were put on the moon before the first permanent base was ever established, and they were remarkably accurate. We would know where the safe and unsafe places would be. The issue would be seeing how far we would have to move. A permanent base has a defense system to make meteors no longer a threat, but Ross and I would essentially be living in a tent, so any rocks kicked up by an impact could end our mission, if we were not considerably distant form the meteor. Our biggest obstacle would be discomfort; but then, if discomfort was a stumbling block, no missionary would have ever set out. It was rather supernatural, as our Lord & Commander Jesus Christ endured so much more discomfort than we would ever have to face, even wandering across the gray rocks of the moon.

So, armed with the greatest technologies of the late 21st century, and on a mission from God, we proceeded to turn this missionary dream into a reality. No one who had set up their base on the moon was committed to any religion, though zealous atheism will likely be the dominant ideology among these people. Yet we really didn’t know what to expect. As Ross kept reminding me, if God truly wants this to happen, it will happen. As I keep reminding Ross, if God truly put us in charge, then we need to do everything we can to make it a reality. He’s more idealistic, in his God-will-do-it mentality; I’m more realistic, knowing that God likes to make us earn our accomplishments. We balance each other out well.



We started with a press conference, then some more calculations, an improved version of portable lunar housing, and finally, we were strapped into a rocket, ready for takeoff. Ross brought consecrated hosts, so we could truly have Christ with us on our journey. I brought a medallion that was stamped specifically for this journey, with the papal blessing of Francis III bringing prosperity to our soul-saving expedition. We both brought materials for building an altar, as well as materials for setting up the first lunar cemetery. As long as death is inevitable, the afterlife will be on people’s minds to some degree; this may be what it takes to bring these people to realize the truth that there is something eternal.
 

Unofficial Reverand Alex

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And before I get into the ending, to put myself more in the character's situation, I kept looking a picture of a lunar landscape, and some of what I wrote is thoughts that came to mind when I stared at it.

maxresdefault.jpg


I stand here, alone, completely cut off from people, from civilization of any kind. I have been standing on this barren rock for hours, days, any amount of time that is far longer than anything I bargained for. In my current state of mind, I may have well been here my entire life. I knew this was a possibility going into it, but I never thought it would happen to me. It always seemed like something that happened to some people I heard stories about, maybe stories that were fiction from the beginning, but my life was never going to be that story…

Barren. Everything around me is barren. I see nothing, I hear no one…this is isolation, mental and physical, isolation like nothing I have ever felt before.

There have been shadows of people passing by, at least in my mind, but as much as I silently beg for one of them, just one, to come sit with me, talk with me, it never happens. I know I was meant to be united with another person; why is it taking so long?

Lord, give me endurance; I’m pressed so far down, swallowed into an abyss of nothingness, and I feel so exposed to…nothing. It’s just me here, and I have nothing to defend myself with.

Everywhere I look turns up the same. Nothing. No one. I can’t even imagine life with someone else around anymore. Could I ever?

My mental duress becomes all that I know. Yet, inexplicably, in an odd sense, the agony makes me feel strong. I am at my weakest, I am cut off from anyone that could provide any help, and I can scream without ever being heard…I don’t even know if God will hear me at this point. Oh, dear, my whole life has been devoted to God, and I can’t even tell if God is real! Was He ever there? Was He just a childhood story? Maybe the atheists were right…

But, no, there’s something deeper, something far deeper here than any of my own powers or any of the most enlightened atheists will ever be able to reach…there is still something. There is a story. This makes my agony into a moment of strength. My life is a story, and dammit, it needs to be a good one.

So I stand here, lay here, alone, stripped down to my bones…

Nowhere to hide, no one to find me,

All I know is darkness,

Darkness…

I never went into this expecting this to happen. Certainly, I never wanted it to happen.

I never thought my life would turn so dark, lonely, and mentally difficult. I never thought desperation would be the defining term of myself, laying on a barren rock in a barren landscape, with no one…no one…

But I will not let go of this tiny scrap of hope—

My life is a story.

Even now.
And God willing, this hour, this day, this lifetime of duress will only make my story stronger.



“The hero stands alone,” I say to no one. If I am a story, I might as well be a narrator, too. “He stands here on bare rock, looking at the grey sand and the darkness on every side, completely immersed in silence and nothingness. He will never truly be able to express how he feels, how life has made a poisoned puppet out of him, as such despair is beyond the comprehension of most men. But he knows there is something greater; there has to be something greater! Therefore, he will never lose hope.”

I imagined myself as the hero of my story. Why not? I’m the main character, and I’m facing a monumental difficulty. This will mean, in all the best stories, a monumental recovery. Whatever is thrown at me will be twisted around and thrown back. I have God on my side, and I don’t know where He is in all this, but I know He’s giving me the reminder that there is a Divine Author, or at least a Divine Audience, and they want a good story. They will be utterly disappointed by a poor ending, and rejoicing over an impossible victory. No story is good without conflict; no hero is made by easy times. No one wants to read a book about a person who never has difficulties, and a man with a life of ease is hardly a man at all.

What makes a man???” I scream to no one, as I stand barren and alone.


They say strength is best discovered when we are on our own. Religious figures through the ages have gone into isolation. This wasn’t a matter of finding faults; there is something deep about finding yourself when you have the least support. An athlete may be good with a team to support her, but left to play alone, all her greatest strengths will come to light like never before.

I saw a figure on the horizon. How I saw a figure in the dark is unclear; if there was a figure at all, that was anyone’s guess. My thoughts are disjointed, I can’t decide if I make no sense, but there is a figure, and he is slowly, purposefully, coming towards me.

I squint, hoping that will help in the darkness. No help. But he comes closer, and I can gradually make out the figure. He is somewhat tall…his spacesuit looks familiar….I begin to realize that this is another man. It’s tricky to tell, but he starts to look familiar…can it be? No, even now, there’s no way I could be seeing him. I haven’t seen my own face in a mirror for months, but this is the man I see. This is myself.

Somewhere in this darkness, I internally narrate, perhaps with the Divine Author as the storyteller, My final battle approaches.

I watch, caught in confusion of the situation, matched by recognition of my duty, as I impossibly see myself stand face-to-face with me. Eye to eye, mind to mind…the final enemy approaches, and I recognize him as myself.

They say that your vocation, the ultimate calling of your life, is something that can be compromised at least in part by darkness from your past. But if we have darkness, what do we do about it?

This is the question in my mind, as I watch myself stand assertively, not aggressively, clearly waiting for me to make the first move. But what move should I make?

This is me. I am he.

What words need to be said? What deeds need to be done?

Where is my purpose in this?

What would any man do, when brought to the fullness of who he truly is?

Perhaps the isolation is getting to me. This could all be a hallucination. But I know there’s still a story, and I am the one that decides its outcome.

The hero realizes that none of his questions are new…he has been asking them his whole life. But this time, there is much more at stake. Nothing here is new, but it is all accelerated, all these old questions arising in the same moment, and the long-unanswered questions are demanding their due response.

I watch myself, and I see a trace of compassion. I know the predicament I’m in, even if I have no idea about any of the details. For a moment, for a long moment, we simply stare at each other. Then he speaks; I do not know how I could hear him, how I could hear anything in this private hell of silent isolation, but I know I heard him speak.

“You have been waiting so long,” I hear myself say.

I stand back, shocked to hear words, and to hear my own voice. Not my external voice, not what other people hear, but this is the internal thinking voice I’ve always taken for granted…this is the voice that spoke to me, and this is the voice I must truly reply to. But how?

The hero staggers, unaware of what must be done…but he aware enough to know that something must be done, so he prepares the best he can at this fateful hour.

He draws a breath…

“Why?”

My other self stares at me knowingly. He smiles a little. “You never did catch on, did you?”

They say Christ’s loneliness on the Cross was even worse than His physical torments. Why this came to mind at this moment, I really can’t say. I think God is still trying to reach me….the hero stands alone, receiving just enough help to keep him alive.

I look to the ground. Grey, sandy, nothing special at all. Endless. Desert explorers and traders in the Arab regions of the world needed to use similar navigation devices as the seafarers. Sand, like water, is endlessly changing, and there is nothing directional about it. There is a certain timelessness of just staring out across this barren sand. Nothing changed, nothing ever will. No storms, no wind, and no meteors that I’ve ever seen.

My other self keeps standing in front of me. Why?

I suppose he has nowhere else to go.

My oxygen supply is running low, all I know is sand and darkness, and I have met my final conflict, one with the enemy who knows my every move.

Christ, what did your isolation feel like? Is that what you felt in Gethsemane?

I lay helpless, my other self standing strong.

“You’re not going to understand all the answers,” my adversary finally said. “It just doesn’t work that way. Even the answers about your own life are things you can never truly find out.”

Even Christ begged to know, My God, my God, why have you abandoned me? Did He really expect an answer?

I lay here, oxygen depleting, helplessly thrown down on barren rock, realizing that the worse my situation gets, the more support I receive. Not by an alleviation of sufferings, but by giving them meaning.

The hero lies still, contemplating what is happening.

The hero’s companion. All the great stories feature a companion with the hero!

Outwardly, the hero shows no sign of change. But inside, he begins to understand the strength of his long-made alliance.

Seeing my demise as a story gives far more insight into my situation. How many times is there a disappearing character? Someone will fall off into the unknown, go to gather food and never return, be taken away with no hope of return? Yet towards the end of the story, right when the hero is about to fail, the companion returns at the perfect moment. Perhaps the companion is the real hero, and the hero is just the frontman. Who’s greater, the fighter or the coach? The racer or the pit crew? The hero of the story, or the author that brought it about?

My thoughts were somewhat disjointed, but my attention was brought back by the sound of his…my…voice. “You know you were made for something more.” This was the driving idea for why I became religious; there is more to life than this world. These worlds. But I did not understand why these words should be repeated now.

“Why…” I could barely breath, let alone talk. “Why…now?”

My other self seemed to realize that I meant, Why are you telling me this now? But his answer reflected the presence of a deeper question that I hadn’t thought to ask.

He reached out, putting his hand on my shoulder, compassion on the verge of tears filling his eyes. “I want to help you…and I never wanted it to get this bad.”

I understood that this was my own dialogue, about myself, but hearing it from the figure of another person gave the words much more depth.

His eyes continued to well with tears. “This…this sort of turmoil…no one was supposed to deal with suffering like this. Isolation is a curse, you know. It’s not part of the original design of the world, but a result of the flaws of so many people.”

The hero struggles, as his mental duress continues its assault on his very self. He will continue fighting, he repeats to himself. What is he fighting? He no longer knows. How is he fighting? Not with weapons, not with words, not with anything a typical fighter would ever use. No, the hero is mustering up all the strength he has, and he can only use it towards one thing—loyalty.

If these moon people had never tried to leave the world’s problems to other people, this never would have been an issue. I never would’ve been in this predicament.

Following my train of thought, my other self continued. “Taking on this task was very noble.” He was echoing so much encouragement I had been giving myself since the beginning of this mission.

The hero lies still, listening to the continuing voice, knowing that he is soon to die.

He does not let this interfere with the realization that authors can always bring greatness out of their stories.

Another figure started to approach. It merged with the first figure, the one that was myself, and turned it into a distorted, angry, spiteful version, and I knew at once who it was.

“You’ll never make it!” He yelled with rage. “You should’ve known this would only lead to disaster!”

Loyalty. It was the only weapon he had, the only thing worth pouring energy into anymore.

I was unable to respond, too depleted of anything I would need to keep alive much longer. I only had to sit there and endure it, to be like Christ in the--“Why did you think you could ever survive isolation?” My thoughts were cut off when I was about to connect with the Divine. “Why did you think your obnoxious partner would be with you to the end?”

Ross…

“Look at yourself! I am you!” His voice grew somehow darker, quieter. “Look into the real essence of your soul, the ugliness you always tried to ignore…”

His words continued, but my attention was shifting away. Inexplicably, the devilish distortion didn’t seem to notice that his words were having no more effect.

Loyalty to the only thing that would always, truly, remain with him.

I stared out across the barren hills of sand, the small pockmarks of meteor shrapnel, and for the first time I truly realized it was beautiful. The devil’s abuse continued to fly, but I was enrapt in the subtle beauty of the lunar landscape. Why had I never noticed it before?

No man, no material thing, would ever stay with him forever. It is simply impossible for something of such limitations to linger as much as we instinctively know something should…

I saw a smiling face, a familiar face, as I drifted off into my last sleep. The voice of the devil was still echoing through the landscape, a distant noise that had no meaning, driven to nothingness by the subtle love of the man I now saw…

“You survived,” the smiling face said, as I faded into death.

The hero lived as a scientist and died as a missionary. He devoted his life to studying God’s Creation, and his death to spreading God’s message.

I understood that my body was staying on the moon, for a while, but my soul was being brought somewhere much farther into the heavens.

He came to tell the people that there was something beyond this life.

Little did he know that he was teaching himself the whole time.
 
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chevyontheriver

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This is interesting...I have the beginning & the ending of the story written, but nothing in the middle! ^_^ In any case, what I'm interested in hearing feedback on is the ending. The story is about being sent as sheep among wolves; missionaries! I've always had a deep appreciation for sci-fi, so this is putting it out into the future, with lunar colonies. Being entirely atheists that go to live in their own lunar settlements, two men go off as partners to evangelize.
Ross made me think of the Jesuit astronomer Gerolamo Sersale (AKA Sirsalis), who drew a full map of the moon in 1650. Those early Jesuits were brilliant fellows. Men of steel too. I bet he considered going to the moon.

I presume you know that many of the craters on the moon are named after Jesuit scientists. I mean why else would your story have a Jesuit going to the moon. Jesuit Lunar Craters
 
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Unofficial Reverand Alex

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Ross made me think of the Jesuit astronomer Gerolamo Sersale (AKA Sirsalis), who drew a full map of the moon in 1650. Those early Jesuits were brilliant fellows. Men of steel too. I bet he considered going to the moon.

I presume you know that many of the craters on the moon are named after Jesuit scientists. I mean why else would your story have a Jesuit going to the moon. Jesuit Lunar Craters

My choice of the Jesuits was twofold. First of all, have you seen the movie The Mission? It's a fantastic film, I own it, and it's about the Jesuit missionaries in South America. Secondly was because of the Jesuit activity in astronomy, as you pointed out with the moon craters. As long as I was starting them off in an astronomical lab, Jesuits were the natural choice.
 
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Interesting idea usually religions come off badly in science fiction . Mainly because of the religion’s refusal to use facts
The only time I've seen religion used in science fiction was done quite well in Asimov's I, Robot. Not to be confused with the movie (which is also great, but very, very different), or the album from The Alan Parsons Project (again, great but different), I, Robot is more of an anthology than a book. One of the stories within has the robots form a religion of their own! Asimov was an atheist, unfortunately (his brilliance would've been great in Christianity!), but I found it really interesting to see a robot society bringing about a religion, despite the human attempts to prove that it was humans that created them. Very cool!
 
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chevyontheriver

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The only time I've seen religion used in science fiction was done quite well in Asimov's I, Robot. Not to be confused with the movie (which is also great, but very, very different), or the album from The Alan Parsons Project (again, great but different), I, Robot is more of an anthology than a book. One of the stories within has the robots form a religion of their own! Asimov was an atheist, unfortunately (his brilliance would've been great in Christianity!), but I found it really interesting to see a robot society bringing about a religion, despite the human attempts to prove that it was humans that created them. Very cool!
The classic Catholic SciFi is A Canticle for Leibowitz by Walter M. Miller, Jr. (1959). Then there's Philip K. Dick and John C. Wright as notable Catholic SciFi writers. Nothing to sneeze at. One could also consider C.S. Lewis and Orson Scott Card as Christian SciFi writers, so by no means is the faith alien to SciFi. And they aren't the only ones.
 
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This is interesting...I have the beginning & the ending of the story written, but nothing in the middle! ^_^ In any case, what I'm interested in hearing feedback on is the ending. The story is about being sent as sheep among wolves; missionaries! I've always had a deep appreciation for sci-fi, so this is putting it out into the future, with lunar colonies. Being entirely atheists that go to live in their own lunar settlements, two men go off as partners to evangelize.

The ending I'm including is actually something I wrote today to channel the loneliness I keep feeling. I have wonderful friends, but I still know there's someone missing. I'm designed for a romantic relationship, and the lack thereof causes me pain every day. But I'm starting to see this as a blessing in disguise; I understand Christ's loneliness so much more, now that I have a taste of it in my own life! He hasn't taken the pain away, but He's given it meaning.:clap:

When I sat down to write out my loneliness, I realized it could work very well with the plot of my lunar missionaries, as a closing scene where Paul Heinlein, one of the missionaries, dies. At some point, I would have Ross, the partner, be separated. I don't know how, but the separation works into what I wrote. I may have an epilogue, where Ross comes back to give his partner a proper burial. I also just realized that I gave the name Paul to a missionary character--this was not intentional!^_^ Paul Heinlein is a name I've used before, and I thought I could put him in this story.

Without further ado, here is the beginning of the story. The ending, I'll put into the next post, as I'm sure it will need to be split up.

-----

Great missionaries of Christian history are people I’ve always heard stories of, but never thought I would experience. Furthermore, it confused me, as I saw converting people’s mindsets in foreign lands to be a rather odd thing to focus so much energy on, when there are so many needs to be filled where we already are. But as things have turned out, Lunar 5 was the site for just another sort of these missions, and I was in just the position to carry one out. Since the initial moon landing in the late 1960s, there was quite the lull with little human activity on our nearest celestial neighbor. But as crazy-rich nutjobs decided to create their own home on a distant land, far away from any taxes, beggars, or anything they don’t want to deal with. The moon truly is a dream home for people who want to get away from it all…for good.

This is how it all began, in the briefest manner I could think to describe the background of society and of my mindset. We pick up with my good friend Ross, who always has a unique way of looking at these things.





“Lunar 5? That’s the name of the landing site? And let me guess…Lunar 1 through 4 came before? My goodness, man, these names are lamer than the Canadian hockey teams!”

Ross let out a laugh. He was a man that always made people feel happy; wherever he was, you could be certain that a good-natured laugh at the absurdity of life would soon be heard for miles around.

I am Paul Heinlein, a distant relative of the great Robert Heinlein. My personality is far more calm; nothing much bothers me, even when things get stressful for everyone else. I take life in stride, walking this journey in a sort of peaceful & slow manner; Ross sees life as a comedy show, something with absurdities around every corner that are begging to be called out. Nothing bothers him, either, but he’s much louder about everything, in the best way possible. We have been good friends since childhood, and our common interest in space travel has led us to this unique point in world history. Of course, that term may need to be updated, as there’s no longer just one world we’ll be discussing.

We have both loved rocketry, space photographs, and the Air & Space Museum in D.C. Ross is one of the Jesuits, an intellectual elite among scientists and Catholics alike. I work with him, without taking the religious vows that would keep me from being able to marry someday. I am the more thoughtful, research-oriented one, while Ross is better at collaborating with the necessary people to make a large project work. His loud and fun disposition makes him hard not to like, and my generally quiet disposition makes me better suited for quiet research behind a computer.

We’ve been watching these recent lunar landings with great interest. I thought it was fascinating how technology has advanced so well that a single rocket could bring up the necessary supplies for an entire landing site; Ross occupied himself by laughing at the funny names of the astronauts. In any case, we both saw a great societal change happening before our eyes, as the richest of the rich take their entire fortunes into space, converting a lifetime of financial earnings into elaborate moon bases with swimming pools and bars like no other. What we saw happening, what everyone saw happening, was a new branch of society opening up; there is a group of tax-free, law-free, carefree people that are setting up in different craters across the moon, generating their own society from the ground up. Sociologists mainly focused on the question of how their governmental or educational facilities will arise, but Ross and I had a different focus.

What we saw was an atheistic utopia…but we knew that there was still something higher. Nothing is more important than souls, Ross would say. Up there, on the stony ball we can see every night…there’s a lot of souls that still need to be saved. Now Ross, he never struck me as the missionary type. He lived his vow of poverty devoutly, giving all his extra money to a church program that covers the rent for people who need a place to live. But his time was always spent in astronomical research, discovering more and more about God’s Creation beyond this planet. He was the favorite of the workers in these observatories, and certainly fulfilled a holy purpose in bringing joy into so many people’s lives. But going out there, wherever “there” may be, to bring the Gospel to people who had no knowledge of how it could change their lives…he’s never even mentioned wanting to do this! Frankly, neither had I. But both of us were fascinated by the growing moon society, and I suppose it’s only natural that we would want to be a part of it. If nothing is more important than souls, and nothing fascinates us more than everything “up there”, then bringing these two together will certainly be the best thing we could do.

Ross talked to his superiors, of course. They say the Jesuits are an order, not a democracy; authority overrules the general desires of the masses. But his superiors were thinking the same thing. They were too old for their bodies to handle the stresses of space travel, but Ross and I are both healthy young men with strong hearts, and already well-established among astronomers and astronaut trainers. Why not go for it?

We researched it. This would take a lot of money. Even with the resources of a professional astronomical lab behind us, we would have to be the first lunar nomads. There was no way we could invest so much in a permanent base; we would have to live in a small hut that we could carry on our backs. This would leave us susceptible to few dangers; there would be no wildlife to worry about, no thieves who would take from us. Meteor collisions would be a threat, but monitoring systems for such things were put on the moon before the first permanent base was ever established, and they were remarkably accurate. We would know where the safe and unsafe places would be. The issue would be seeing how far we would have to move. A permanent base has a defense system to make meteors no longer a threat, but Ross and I would essentially be living in a tent, so any rocks kicked up by an impact could end our mission, if we were not considerably distant form the meteor. Our biggest obstacle would be discomfort; but then, if discomfort was a stumbling block, no missionary would have ever set out. It was rather supernatural, as our Lord & Commander Jesus Christ endured so much more discomfort than we would ever have to face, even wandering across the gray rocks of the moon.

So, armed with the greatest technologies of the late 21st century, and on a mission from God, we proceeded to turn this missionary dream into a reality. No one who had set up their base on the moon was committed to any religion, though zealous atheism will likely be the dominant ideology among these people. Yet we really didn’t know what to expect. As Ross kept reminding me, if God truly wants this to happen, it will happen. As I keep reminding Ross, if God truly put us in charge, then we need to do everything we can to make it a reality. He’s more idealistic, in his God-will-do-it mentality; I’m more realistic, knowing that God likes to make us earn our accomplishments. We balance each other out well.



We started with a press conference, then some more calculations, an improved version of portable lunar housing, and finally, we were strapped into a rocket, ready for takeoff. Ross brought consecrated hosts, so we could truly have Christ with us on our journey. I brought a medallion that was stamped specifically for this journey, with the papal blessing of Francis III bringing prosperity to our soul-saving expedition. We both brought materials for building an altar, as well as materials for setting up the first lunar cemetery. As long as death is inevitable, the afterlife will be on people’s minds to some degree; this may be what it takes to bring these people to realize the truth that there is something eternal.

Interesting concept of missionaries to the moon. I guess I would compare it to the Jesuit experience of going to China and trying to find ways of interacting with that alien culture. They used technical expertise as a way to open doors to share the gospel. But your scenario is very different and the Missionaries base and lives are isolated from that wider Lunar community of the selfish and exclusive rich people who have made their homes there. Basically they seem to sit in their makeshift poor mans base staring out on a magnificent desolation populated only with projections of themselves, taunting them, rebuking them and perhaps ultimately mourning their inevitable demise. So maybe these men are not really missionaries at all but rather hermits in the lunar desert praying for lost souls and confronted by their own temptations in the wilderness. I think if I was really going to be a missionary on the moon I would try and get myself better embedded and with more excuses to interact with the lunar community whose selfishness and self interest would otherwise perpetually exclude the possibility of engagement.
 
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Interesting concept of missionaries to the moon. I guess I would compare it to the Jesuit experience of going to China and trying to find ways of interacting with that alien culture. They used technical expertise as a way to open doors to share the gospel. But your scenario is very different and the Missionaries base and lives are isolated from that wider Lunar community of the selfish and exclusive rich people who have made their homes there. Basically they seem to sit in their makeshift poor mans base staring out on a magnificent desolation populated only with projections of themselves, taunting them, rebuking them and perhaps ultimately mourning their inevitable demise. So maybe these men are not really missionaries at all but rather hermits in the lunar desert praying for lost souls and confronted by their own temptations in the wilderness. I think if I was really going to be a missionary on the moon I would try and get myself better embedded and with more excuses to interact with the lunar community whose selfishness and self interest would otherwise perpetually exclude the possibility of engagement.
Good thinking, I might integrate your thoughts when I wrote more of the story.
 
  • Agree
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