The moon was getting bigger and Lisa didn’t like that at all.
There was more to her mood, probably. In this modern world of today there are often strange drones in the night sky. Airplanes it seems are finding new shapes and sizes every day. And despite the culture’s obsession with optimization, the rich men at the top will go on designing the ugliest cars you can dream up instead of doing something important. Like, just an idea, developing a device which could tell you with a hundred percent success rate and in the simplest of terms if whatever’s going on in front of or within you is normal. An example would be if your chest hurt, you wouldn’t even have to describe it to the device, you’d just ask — hi, is this gonna be fine? And the device would be like — yes!
But it was the moon that was the main problem of now.
At first Lisa figured it must be a one-day anomaly. Like when the sun gets all blocked or when something else up there looks red for some reason. It’s called a supermoon, the internet said. A full moon coinciding with its nearest orbital approach to the earth. But it seemed like weeks were passing, months probably, and every night the huge moon loomed. Like it was ready to plop down and eat us all up. Like it was gaining momentum. Another trip to the internet informed her that this, too, was explainable. Apparently it was a special year for California and supermoons. Many in a row.
Now wait a minute, Lisa thought. These unlikely scenarios, it’s not what we’ve signed up for. The dinosaurs of course had their luck, but for us it’s supposed to be that you look up and it’s all what you learned in school. Light blue, dark blue. Couple of circles, some dots. The moon is supposed to be itself, and if it has the audacity to out of nowhere decide to be something else, then. Well. Then that’s just not right.
Lisa had never really considered what goes on at public service places like town hall or the mayor’s office or anything like that. She barely even knew who the mayor was. Sometimes the mayor is one person and then oops looks like it’s different now. She went back to the internet who gave her the number for parks and recreation, which she figured would be her best bet since their whole thing is making nature palatable.
“Yes, hello, my name is Lisa and I’d like to file a complaint.”
The woman on the other end had a happy voice like her whole life was good news. When Lisa explained the issue, the woman sounded like she’d won a prize — “What’s happening is actually called a supermoon. Perfectly safe. And just magical to see.”
“No, I know all about the supermoon.”
“Oh great!”
“I just really don’t like it.”
When Lisa hung up the phone, she was disappointed but did have a new lead. Even though the woman couldn’t be much of a help, she had suggested Lisa figure out how to get ahold of something tech-related. Apple support or something. The older she got, the woman told Lisa, the more she understood that those were the people who knew the most about problems and how to fix them.
“Hi Lisa! What can I help you out with today?” The Genius Bar associate was so tall he may have been stretched like taffy in a factory.
Lisa explained the problem, about how the moon was getting bigger and it was called a supermoon and that she’d gone to the government and the government couldn’t do anything but had recommended she come here where the smart people are paid to know about broken things. Yes, she knew the moon was not a phone. But it makes about the same amount of sense.
Just like the parks woman, the taffy man instantly brightened. “I’ve seen that!” he said, “It’s so cool! Right?”
“No,” Lisa said.
When Lisa left the store, she was once again disappointed but did once again have a new lead. The associate — some genius, by the way — had suggested she find somebody who knew about the brain. His sister, he told Lisa, had a pretty difficult anger problem growing up. But then she went to therapy and everything in her life changed. Now she only gets into fist fights on special occasions.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Lisa,” the doctor had a long beard and glasses like he was someone’s uncle. “Let’s talk about why you’re sitting here today.”
And once again Lisa explained the problem. Supermoon. Big. Don’t like it. So terrible. Ruining my life. All I can think about.
“Interesting,” someone’s uncle mused, “And why do you think this is so important to you? What feelings are coming up?”
Lisa sighed bigly because he was misinterpreting what was happening here between them. “Are you able to get the moon in here and ask it what it feels so we can get to the root of this issue?”
He was not able to do that. All he was able to do was list the names of medications she should be on, none of which she wanted to be on. So seven minutes and four hundred dollars later she left his office.
“But it’s so beautiful, don’t you think?” he’d asked as she packed her things.
“No,” Lisa said, gloomier than ever, dragging her feet through the door, “I don’t think so at all.”
For dreams, Lisa had learned a trick years ago. If you can’t tell whether you are awake or in a dream, you just look at the nearest object with words on it. A book, a ketchup bottle, a billboard, whatever’s around. You look at the object, look away a moment, and then look at it again. If the words have stayed the same, you’re awake. But in a dream, you’ll look at a bottle saying ketchup and when you look again it’ll say hamster or something. And if you wanted to make really sure, just repeat. Now it won’t say hamster anymore. It’ll say Mexico. And next time maybe ballet. Frankenstein, lemon, danger. And so on. With this simple looking once and again, you’ll always know where you are and what’s going on, what reality you’re buckled into.
She hadn’t yet heard of a trick about moons, though. All there was to rely on was science, which unfortunately is eternally in the process of being rewritten. One day, perhaps soon, we will look into the sky and say oh wow the moon has never been so big before ever in the history of the world, we didn’t know it could get so big, isn’t it so beautiful like that, isn’t it so majestic, and the scientists will be so excited to explain to us how and why they’ve been proven wrong and aha that will be the day we all die.
She looked up at the dark sky and there, of course, was death embodied.
“Moon,” she cried, “What do you want from me?”
The moon turned on its microphone so Lisa would be able to hear. “I don’t want anything from you, Lisa,” it promised.
“Then why are you so big these days?”
“I didn’t choose! It just happened. Is it really so obvious?”
“Yes, moon,” Lisa said, sad, “And I’m sorry but I don’t like it.”
“All I do is go in circles, Lisa. I don’t like it either.”
Lisa spent the next day thinking hard about what the moon had said. Maybe the moon was also having a hard time. Maybe the two of them were not so different. But then again — Lisa did not have the power to wipe out civilizations by bumping into something. When Lisa bumped into things all that was ruined was her day.
So now here she was. Neither government, nor tech, nor pharma had known what to do. And those were the three main things of society. All that was left to do, she supposed, was give up. Maybe she could just try never to look at the sky ever again? Maybe that was something she could try.
That night Lisa got ready for bed, as was customary. She put her sleep pants on and washed her face. She looked at the internet for a bit. People dying, people laughing, etc. Finally the clock struck tired and she turned off all the lights. Just when her head was about to hit the pillow, she out of habit glanced out the window next to her bed, bracing for the inevitable, but what she saw made her sit straight up and bring her fingers to her mouth.
“Oh,” she said aloud.
The moon was normal size now. It no longer looked like a harbinger of the apocalypse. It didn’t seem to symbolize anything anymore. It was just… the moon.
Some slick mix of embarrassment and annoyance pricked Lisa’s ears. Just like whenever she sat in the park reading on the nice bench. Of course at the exact moment she planned to get up and leave, someone would take the seat right next to her. And now, of course, she couldn’t leave, because what’s that look like.
That’s what the moon was doing to her, deciding to all of a sudden get normal after their conversation, ruining a perfectly good book-in-the-park situation by making it all about the theatre of morality.
Well, she thought to herself and shook her head, I just sure hope that wasn’t because of me.