Only the beginning

I’m so happy to see humanity once again heading off to the moon. But I’m a little disappointed that most of us will be “dearly departed” before construction begins on any kind of moon colony. I was so looking forward to having my own little “cabin in the woods” looking over the Sea of Tranquility.Imagine a neighborhood of pre-fabricated moon condos, scattered across the lunar surface like a Mongolian village of yak-skinned yurts. Each no bigger than an efficiency apartment. Bathroom. Mini fridge. Sink. Hot plate. And a sleeper couch placed in front of a bay window, offering a full view of the landscape under a big, black sky.

A home so small it borders on being claustrophobic. But consider the solitude, the tranquility. No noisy sounds of garbage trucks picking up trash at six in the morning; no kids racing their cars through the neighborhood; no neighbors who keep their TV turned up to full volume all day. Nothing but peace and quiet.

Peace and quiet to finally learn how to play the piano; to read all the books that can fit on an e-reader; to master yoga; to finally write that Great Galactic Novel. And when you need to stretch your legs a bit, the factory-installed airlock gives easy outside access for exploring, visiting neighbors or just puttering about in the backyard.

Two years after initial construction, Phase II of the project includes the Community Center, a gathering place for mingling, parties, movie night, potluck dinners and Bingo. Weddings? More than likely. Funerals? Unfortunately.

Phase II also includes an insertion of life-like animal drones and robots — hummingbirds, squirrels, armadillos, etc. These artificial creatures function on the lunar surface to give residents a more living-in-the-country feel about the place.

Five years after the neighborhood has been populated, Phase III sees the construction of a completely-oxygenated underground city, hollowed out deep within the moon’s rocky crust. Residents gain access through the Community Center via elevator. They enjoy being able to walk around, shop, and eat at the food court, all without the need for their environmental suits.

I imagine you’ll find me at the local Taco-Burger, siting at a table with friends, discussing whatever old friends discuss.

“I’ve got an idea that will make us a million dollars.”

“Oh no. Here we go again.”

“Robo-Squirrel Hunting.”

“What? Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

“Not REAL hunting. More like laser tag. We develop a program that makes those squirrels a little more wary of people. When we see them, we hit ‘em with a laser pistol. Nothing lethal. Just stuns them for a bit.”

“Why would anybody want to put on their environment suit just to…”

“No, no. You can do it from the comfort of your couch.”

“Hmmmmm. Not a bad idea. And it sure would beat watching reruns of ‘Real Housewives of the Moon.”

I was 6 years old when Apollo 8 — piloted by Frank Borman, Jim Lovell and William Anders — became the first crewed spacecraft to orbit the moon. They circled the moon 10 times without landing, and then got back home safely. Eight months later, humans were walking on the moon.

My wife and I were heading to Dallas for a concert the same day Artemis II and its crew blasted off for a flyby of the moon. We stopped at Buc-ees for a restroom break and snacks, then sat in the car to watch the launch. It was then I started thinking, “I wonder how much a yurt on the moon would cost?” I didn’t mention it to my wife at the time. I’m not completely nuts.