Read Online 172 Hours on the Moon by Johan Harstad - Free Book Online
Authors: Johan Harstad
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Disappearing
from them altogether was too much.
But there was another option. And that was to exploit Daddy Tetsuo’s weakness for the United States. He’d never been there,
but he was always talking about how much he wanted to go. The Grand Canyon — that’s what he wanted to see most. God knows
why. As far as Midori could tell, the Grand Canyon was just a big valley with some mountains, and there were plenty of those
in Japan, too. But he brought it up all the time, and always with a certain reverence in his voice.
Well
, Midori thought,
you can have your Grand Canyon. As much of it as you want
.
She wouldn’t say anything to her parents about wanting to move away from Yokohama in particular or Japan in general until
they were well into their post-moon world tour. Then she’dsuggest that they go see this Grand Canyon place. And then, as they stood there looking at the (probably not all
that
majestic) view, she could let the words drop:
What if we just moved here?
And maybe, just maybe, they would say yes. It was a possibility anyway, and for now she’d have to believe it could work. Her
life simply depended on it, she thought. If not, the whole trip to the moon would be a complete waste.
The dawn light was already starting to stream in through her thin curtains when she finally fell asleep at five thirty in
the morning. She would have preferred to keep working on her plan, but her eyes wouldn’t stay open, and she wasn’t thinking
clearly anymore. She quickly disappeared down the long corridor of sleep, and at the other end she found herself on the roof
of a loft in Brooklyn, with a cup of coffee in her hands and a view of the Manhattan skyline. She opened the skylight and
called down to her friends who were sitting in the large loft apartment below, surrounded by the paintings and clothes they’d
been working on. “We’ll be right up,” they yelled to her, and Midori left the skylight open, sat down with her back against
a chimney, and squinted at the cool, infinitely beautiful September sun.
The letter was true to its word. A Japanese-speaking NASA representative called Midori three days later and popped the question:
“Do you wish to say yes and be part of this mission?”
Midori didn’t hesitate before answering, “Yes.”
“And have you discussed the matter with your parents?”
She was taken aback for a second at how formal and businesslike the representative sounded.
“Um, yes,” Midori replied. “Of course.”
“Good. I’ll need to speak to them now after we’re through talking. With their consent, one of our representatives will come
to Yokohama next week to meet with you and your family and discuss the details.”
She felt dazed as she handed the phone to her father, who immediately began confirming arrangements with NASA.
No going back now
, she thought.
Sure enough, a week later a deep-voiced American man wearing a suit showed up at the door of their fifth-floor apartment a
few minutes after seven p.m. Midori’s parents had probably been expecting the representative to give them more thorough information
about what their daughter could expect, but it was obvious that the purpose of his visit was totally different.
The man brushed aside their questions with a few curt, vague answers before opening his briefcase and taking out reams of
paperwork. Midori and her parents had to sign countless documents, insurance forms, waivers for this and that, release of
liability forms in the event of this or that, and so on. It would have been completely impossible to read them all; all they
could do was sign where the man pointed with his well-manicured finger, over and over and over again until he seemed satisfied,
smiled, and bowed deeply before thanking them and leaving, just as quietly and emotionlessly as he had arrived.
Midori and her parents just sat there on the floor around thecoffee table, slightly confused by everything they had experienced
from them altogether was too much.
But there was another option. And that was to exploit Daddy Tetsuo’s weakness for the United States. He’d never been there,
but he was always talking about how much he wanted to go. The Grand Canyon — that’s what he wanted to see most. God knows
why. As far as Midori could tell, the Grand Canyon was just a big valley with some mountains, and there were plenty of those
in Japan, too. But he brought it up all the time, and always with a certain reverence in his voice.
Well
, Midori thought,
you can have your Grand Canyon. As much of it as you want
.
She wouldn’t say anything to her parents about wanting to move away from Yokohama in particular or Japan in general until
they were well into their post-moon world tour. Then she’dsuggest that they go see this Grand Canyon place. And then, as they stood there looking at the (probably not all
that
majestic) view, she could let the words drop:
What if we just moved here?
And maybe, just maybe, they would say yes. It was a possibility anyway, and for now she’d have to believe it could work. Her
life simply depended on it, she thought. If not, the whole trip to the moon would be a complete waste.
The dawn light was already starting to stream in through her thin curtains when she finally fell asleep at five thirty in
the morning. She would have preferred to keep working on her plan, but her eyes wouldn’t stay open, and she wasn’t thinking
clearly anymore. She quickly disappeared down the long corridor of sleep, and at the other end she found herself on the roof
of a loft in Brooklyn, with a cup of coffee in her hands and a view of the Manhattan skyline. She opened the skylight and
called down to her friends who were sitting in the large loft apartment below, surrounded by the paintings and clothes they’d
been working on. “We’ll be right up,” they yelled to her, and Midori left the skylight open, sat down with her back against
a chimney, and squinted at the cool, infinitely beautiful September sun.
The letter was true to its word. A Japanese-speaking NASA representative called Midori three days later and popped the question:
“Do you wish to say yes and be part of this mission?”
Midori didn’t hesitate before answering, “Yes.”
“And have you discussed the matter with your parents?”
She was taken aback for a second at how formal and businesslike the representative sounded.
“Um, yes,” Midori replied. “Of course.”
“Good. I’ll need to speak to them now after we’re through talking. With their consent, one of our representatives will come
to Yokohama next week to meet with you and your family and discuss the details.”
She felt dazed as she handed the phone to her father, who immediately began confirming arrangements with NASA.
No going back now
, she thought.
Sure enough, a week later a deep-voiced American man wearing a suit showed up at the door of their fifth-floor apartment a
few minutes after seven p.m. Midori’s parents had probably been expecting the representative to give them more thorough information
about what their daughter could expect, but it was obvious that the purpose of his visit was totally different.
The man brushed aside their questions with a few curt, vague answers before opening his briefcase and taking out reams of
paperwork. Midori and her parents had to sign countless documents, insurance forms, waivers for this and that, release of
liability forms in the event of this or that, and so on. It would have been completely impossible to read them all; all they
could do was sign where the man pointed with his well-manicured finger, over and over and over again until he seemed satisfied,
smiled, and bowed deeply before thanking them and leaving, just as quietly and emotionlessly as he had arrived.
Midori and her parents just sat there on the floor around thecoffee table, slightly confused by everything they had experienced
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