[m]nine

Richard laid there for a while. He felt a lot like the child who said, “Not yet Mom – just five more minutes – I don’t want to go to school!” He was never one for sleeping in – he always got up a little early, even on days off, and he never got up later than 8:00 a.m. – but he really, really didn’t want to get up this morning. If you could call it morning. The stress of the nightmare – or rather, all of his strange dreams – had worn on him. The whole hitting-his-head-and-passing-out-thing probably didn’t help any, either.

I have to get up, he thought. I need to get off of the moon!

But I’m really tired, another part of him thought. I’ve been through a lot.

Putting it off is only going to make this ordeal last longer, the first part of him replied.

Yeah, but is it really that bad here?

What on earth are you talking about, this is the moon! How could it not be bad?

Well, you’re able to breathe.

Yes, that is rather peculiar – and good – but what does that have to do with anything?

There’s also a cabin – complete with a fireplace, clothes, a bed… I bet there’s even food in there somewhere!

…and?

You have everything you need here! Why would you want to leave?

…

Richard couldn’t answer that question. He wasn’t willing to accept that living on the moon was okay, but he had no good argument against it.

See? said the one side of his thoughts.

Richard was struggling. He scrunched up his face.

You don’t have a good answer because there isn’t one!

Richard rolled onto his side, hoping he could block out the voice. He wished he had a pillow to hold over his ears.

Stop wasting all your energy and strength and just –

NO!

Richard screamed the word at the top of his lungs.

He found himself sitting bolt upright. Startled, he looked around, listening. The voice was gone.

Richard sat there for a moment, rather stunned at the whole incident, then quickly stood up. He wasn’t going to wait any longer – he was getting off the moon, and he was getting off now.