[Shadowdancer] A Moment of Reflection
- From: Ian Hewins <hewman100@xxxxxxxxxxx>
- To: shadowdancer@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
- Date: Tue, 6 Sep 2005 10:34:37 +0100 (BST)
A Moment of Reflection
by Christopher Kitson
It was quiet at this time of day in the Tranquility Base Memorial and Museum
structure. Christopher hadn't known this but was glad to have the place
virtually to himself.
Standing there looking at the preseved section of Lunar regolith that was the
site of that momentous step four hundred and five years ago he found himself
wondering what it would have been like to see that first Earthrise after the
Eagle had touched down.
The site complete with dummy wearing Armstrong's spacesuit had been had been
recreated elsewhere in the building, but some far-seeing group had made sure
that the original had been left untouched.
Suddenly he was aware that he wasn't alone, and looking down he saw a young lad
with sandy hair looking up at him. "Amazing isn't it Lieutenant?"
"Makes you stop and think, I'll agree there. Should you be out at this time
alone son?"
His companion drew himself up to his full five foot height. "I'm sixteen sir,
despite my stature."
"I do apologise young man. I'm Christopher Kitson and you are?"
The teenager held out his hand, "Edward Harris, sir. Pleased to meet you."
Taking his hand Christopher noted the lads firm grip. "So Edward, just visiting
or a native?"
"Native sir. Dad's a miner. My sister's at the Academy, flight training. You
science or medical sir?"
"Science, Exo-Anthropology. Although at the moment I'm not doing a lot of that
at all." He brushed down his dress jacket. "On my way to an official party."
The lad nodded and they both turned and faced the memorial to those forty-seven
individuals who'd lost their lives during the early colonizations. Christopher
found himself scanning them for one particular name.
This was noticed and the lad piped up again "Looking for someone sir?"
At that moment Christopher found it. "Yes son, the name of the first of my
ancestors to be claimed by space." He pointed and the lad read it out "Gregor
Vladimir Evanovich. You ain't Russian sir!"
Christopher smiled, "No, but my mother was. I was born in San Francisco, and my
Dad was from England."
"Cor, where are they now?"
He felt the lump rise in his throat and his grip tightened on the railing
behind him. "They both died in this god-awful war. I do hope your life is never
tainted by it like mine has been."
The lad looked down at his feet, embarrassed. "Sorry sir. Didn't mean to pry."
Seeing the look of genuine remorse on the young mans face he came to a
decision. Time to let them go.
"Don't worry lad, no harm done." With that he ruffled the boys hair and made
his way out into the Lunar night.
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