LUNATIX

Chapter 4: The Moon



The Moon? You mean that we are on the Moon, right now?

Not on but in. Yes. The Moon.

Why?

Silence. Ah, can’t get feedback when asking why. How comes?

The hollow sphere that harbors our—my—bodies comes from PSR J1903+0327.

Uh huh. You don’t say. I can’t read your codes, Aquila-the-Smart. Whatever, never mind. What if you, Aquila, are connected to the Vril?

I am not. I am you. And you are not.

Precise question begs for an accurate answer. I like this dialog. Or monologue?

Both.

Am I dead?

No.

Are you?

No.

Am I alive?

Yes.

Are you alive?

No.

Define your state.

Suspended to sleep.

What are you doing?

Dreaming.

What were you doing before turning to sleep?

Roaming the meadows. Hugging the trees. Thanking to be alive.

Anything unusual, out of order, before you stopped doing all that?

Fatigue.

Are you alone here?

No.

Let me reformulate: are we alone here?

No.

Who is here together with us?

All of us.

The Vril?

Some of them too.

So they are real.

Were.

Sleeping?

Yes.

All?

No.

Awakened giants. Not safe.

All giants sleep.

Who is awake?

Humans. All. You.

If I am not the only human here. How many?

Fifty-one.

Humans?

Yes.

Like me?

Forty-four males. Seven females.

Germans?

Prussians, Hessians, Bavarians, Austrians, Franconians, Czechs, Dutch, Croatians, Swiss, Magyars, Slovens, Saxons.

Sounds like Germans to me. More or less...

I tell you about people not about political structures.

Is the German Reich a mistake?

Was. Like any chimera.

Can I speak to them?

You know if you can. I don’t.

You mean?

Sleeping and dreaming I can. Speaking I cannot.

Erwin! Hans! Helga!

You can shout alright.

But?

There is no medium to propagate the sound waves.

No air?

No air. Yes. No medium.

Void space? Are we trapped inside a void sphere?

Space? Not at all. Sphere? Yes. Observed from the outside. Inside the sphere there is nothing.

Not even space?

Not even space.

But us?

Just us.

And my friends.

And your friends. And few others.

What are we?

Persons.

Do they know about me?

Who?

Erwin, or Hans, or Helga.

I don’t know if they know, or not.


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