3oclockcoffee

"…Since you are one of the few to have seen the dark side of the moon, can you tell us more about it?"

The astronaut on screen doesn't even pause to think:

"To be honest, the most exciting part of it was the lift off. Those rockets really pack a punch! It was fairly boring otherwise."

"Haha, so the moon truly is just rocks?"

"Yup. Nothing but rocks and more rocks. Real useful ones! But nothing we didn't already have."

"That's our good old moon; always reliable."

"It sure is!"

"Now, what do you think about the new album from…"

Veritas Ratio clenches his fist around his papers and walks away from the break room. He only has so many minutes to his break and he is not going to waste them listening to inane talk. Not when, once again, that singular space flight has been dismissed as unimportant. And while it's not surprising anymore, it is still…

"So disappointingly narrow-minded. "

He opens the door of his office, and the harsh light of the hallway illuminates a path to his desk, bouncing off the gold filigree of his lunar globe. He walks past the switch for the overhead lights and sits at his desk, attempting to turn his upset feelings towards more productive endeavours.

But the minutes pass, and he can't quite focus. Soon he starts idly spinning the lunar globe, tracing the carefully etched gold lines upon its crystal surface. It's appalling, really. The moon has always been a constant presence in humanity's mind: from the oldest spoken legends to the most recent astronomic charts; from the most dubious astrology to the most precise nautical instruments; from songs of love to horror stories.

Whenever it casts its shadow over the planet, everything stands still. It forever tugs and pulls at the oceans in an endless dance, and Veritas Ratio, three-quarters water as all humans are, cannot believe that it has been dismissed as:

"…Nothing more than boring old rocks."

It's a betrayal of the burning desire to know that has been humanity's gift and has driven so much progress. Something that is very true of himself: he is many things and plays many roles. But at the end of the day Veritas is simply a very curious man.

He spins the globe, and he considers the other source of his fixation on the moon: he's followed all the landings closely and can say for certain that the single flight to the dark side of the moon is the event that ushered in the current miraculous, rapid expansion in space technology. Something was found on that flight, no matter what everyone says. Something important, but he doesn't know what it is, and so his imagination feeds his curiosity, fills his head with fantastical ideas.

Like the thought that the legendary Avgin — a moon based civilization, a myth prevalent across the globe — could have been real.

He holds the globe still. There's really no other way around it, is there? He's just going to have to go up there himself.

*****

Veritas sighs and gathers his things. He locks his office and allows himself a little smile towards the bright silver moon hanging over the city as he gets in his car. He purposely does not think about this new project of his again until he's leaning against the side of his bathtub, his trusty rubber duck bobbing along the surface.

He will have to be very cautious. Secrets are kept for a reason, and he does not need to paint a target on his back. Although on a more positive note, there will be no reason for him to stop his lectures at the university or his consultant work for the IPC.

He scoops up his most dedicated listener.

"Well, rubber ducky. What is the purpose of this? How can my curiosity be put to good use?"

There is a lesson he has learned well and one he tries to avoid repeating: he cannot allow pride to blind him. So he thinks and thinks, until he finally comes to a decision. If humanity has embarked in the conquest of space, then things like common bacteria and fungi should be studied in the new environment. Otherwise, there is a risk of finding out that medicine is rendered null in a different atmosphere at the worst possible time.

"A satellite facility will do nicely. It will have to orbit around an L-point, so that it serves its purpose to the fullest."

The schematics for it starts to take form in his mind, and he hurries out of the bath. If he delays, he might lose some details to the swirling, draining water. And if it all goes well, he not only will have made sure important areas of biology and medicine are not left behind in this era of space exploration, he should be able to take a little space shuttle around the moon first, to finally satisfy his curiosity.

*****

Satellites are not built in a day and not without funds. And even though he hates noisy gatherings and can't always control his expression when speaking with the willingly ignorant and distastefully arrogant, Veritas knows that he will need a lot of money for his project. So he pushes himself to submit funding proposals and to attend any and all events available to him.

It is…terribly slow. But it's worth it in the end, for it's at one such event, when he's busy recalculating the timeline for his project for the nth time, that things change.

A most showy man is ushered into the lavish conference room, and one of the leads for the event immediately finds a microphone.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a most distinguished guest in attendance! Please give a warm welcome to one of the senior directors at the International Peace Corporation: Mr. Aventurine!"

Polite clapping echoes in the room, and Veritas is too surprised to join in. He watches from his empty table as a crowd forms around the man, curious but not enough to move towards him.

Aventurine is one of the most well known figures at the IPC. The golden goose of the investment branch; a known eccentric who invests early and on seemingly risky endeavours that always, somehow, pay off. His role is firmly established in the frivolous and the extravagant; on perfumes and clothing and other such things.

So why is he here, chatting, smiling, the many sparkling rings on his hands shining bright as he gestures around him?

Veritas frowns. For Aventurine to be here instead of someone like director Pearl…

"Well, this conference is a write-off."

Nothing of substance will be accomplished today. His project is neither showy nor glamorous enough for the current crowd. Veritas shakes his head, and relocates to the downstairs bar. It is half-empty, and he gets to sit in comfortable silence.

It doesn't last very long.

"And here I thought you would have been happy to see me, Doctor Ratio."

The man of the hour takes the spot beside him, laying what must be an incredibly expensive hat on the counter and signalling to the bartender. Here, under the much warmer lights, his rings shine even more.

"Have we met before, Mr. Aventurine?"

"I don't believe so. It's why I'm here after all."

"You came all the way to this conference to meet me? Don't make me laugh."

"Please, Doctor, my jokes are actually funny when I tell them. You are a respected and successful scientist. Why wouldn't I want to meet you?"

"Because you, Senior Director, are not even part of the research branches. Otherwise Madam Yabuli would have mentioned you at least once."

"Yes, well, everyone knows Madam Yabuli keeps her cards hidden until the last minute. Why would she have mentioned me, hmm?"

"Let's not beat around the bush. It's been a long day for me, and I am not in the mood to play games. What do you want?"

"Oh, you know how it goes. A handsome IPC director and a scientist walk into a bar..."

"I thought you said your jokes were funny."

"Ha, tough audience are you?"

Veritas just stares him down, as Aventurine takes a sip of his newly-arrived drink. The bartender, a true professional, leaves them alone.

"Very well, Doctor Ratio. I'll play your game."

"I am not playing any games here."

"I've heard about your proposed satellite facility."

Three weeks later, Veritas wonders if he really is as gullible as he feels. Why else did he fall for a pretty man's pretty words? Why else would he be watching as Aventurine's shadow stretches into his office, as the man darkens his doorstep an entire hour earlier than agreed? He even accepts his ridiculous reason:

"I was winning too fast at the casino. It got boring."

It goes like this: they sit and talk and reach a tentative agreement, to be revised in a year. Veritas is cautious and immensely curious as to Aventurine's true reasons for offering exorbitant amounts of money, but…well, considering that he's keeping the main purpose of his desire to launch this satellite a secret, why should he pry too much into the other's reasons? Beggars can't be choosers, as they say. Besides, he can take care of himself. One showy rich man is not a threat.

By the time the year passes and they're deciding on suppliers for the main parts of the satellite, the agreement is iron-clad. Aventurine is the most fascinating and enjoyable finance man Veritas has ever met. He's bright and charming and funny, endlessly resourceful, and at times alarmingly reckless. He tells himself that it is normal to have a hard time understanding his own emotions, when he has always been so guarded and so distant with everyone, and Aventurine is also so very obviously afflicted with the same issue.

*****

A year ago, Aventurine took a gamble. And while the big prize is still out of reach, the current winnings are more than acceptable: Veritas Ratio all soft and warm in sleep, all tousled hair and dark eyelashes.

Aventurine waits in silence for the man to wake, basking in the morning sun. Veritas' arms tighten around him, pull him closer. He turns to his side and throws an arm around the other's torso, and he remembers dark comets, with their long elliptical paths, falling into silent orbits around each other.

A hand combs through his hair and he sighs, relaxing under the touch.

"The Avgins are a myth."

"You'll have to go up there and see for yourself, Veritas."

"We are building a satellite, not going to the moon."

"Of course."

"It is rude of you to pry into my secrets without disclosing your own."

"And deprive you of entertainment?"

"Such audacity from someone who is naked in my bed."

"And whose fault is that, hmm? Besides, you like having a puzzle to play with, don't deny it."

"You are more than a puzzle. Do remember that."

Ah, but these winnings are truly worth it. Aventurine sighs as he holds the other man even closer, smiling against his skin. He doesn't doubt Veritas' ability to figure things out. He knows the other man will find the truth soon.

He closes his eyes and thinks of another set of hands that touched his head with gentleness, long ago. He thinks of his sister and his family, of their home falling into ruin, of the cruel passage of time and the seemingly unstoppable loss of memory.

He had come very close to giving up, a year ago. He had almost been fully consumed by the small little life of Director Aventurine.

But then he heard about the newest project of a certain scientist. And while he had his doubts at the beginning, the more he learned about Doctor Ratio, the more he came to realize that he was the key to obtaining his heart's desire.

"Stop scheming so early in the morning, Aventurine. It's the weekend."

"Scheming? Me?"

"Go back to sleep. Or get up and start the day."

"Has anyone told you you're very bossy?"

"Yes, I believe you've mentioned it before."

So he's not the nicest of men. But Aventurine quite likes Veritas' personality, bossy and pushy though it might be. He's a difficult man, but their connection is so genuine, this bond between them is so grounding, Aventurine considers himself lucky to have found him.

*****

A year later, Veritas straps himself into a space shuttle's seat. He turns his head to see, through the slight distortion of his suit's rounded helmet, how his long-time assistant, Margaret, mirrors his movements. When she turns her head to look at him, he gives her a nod, and she pushes the radio button:

"Ready and holding."

Aventurine's voice sounds a bit grainy as he answers:

"Perfect. Initiating terminal countdown."

The display in front of his eyes goes through the T-minus sequence, and Veritas counts the seconds as he breathes in and out. The shuttle launches, the roar of the engines and the pressure on his body drowning out Aventurine's "Lift-off!"

The sky, so blue and clear, darkens as they rise, too fast to truly see anything other than the approaching void beyond the atmosphere.

His heart beats fast, and he can't help but grin as the shuttle shakes and rattles, as the loud engines fall one after the other, propelling them closer and closer to their destination. The satellite is a silver shoreline on the horizon, a secure docking for their shuttle, the culmination of so much effort.

The last known port before he sets off on his own.

Margaret doesn't even blink as he launches his own, single driver shuttle shortly after they radio back to ground control and advice them of their successful docking.

Veritas doesn't look back either, too busy keeping down a growing apprehension as he goes further and further away from the satellite, losing radio signal as the moon's rocky surface fills the entirety of the windows. He wonders, as his hands clench around the controls, if he's about to realize once more the foolishness of getting carried away by silly things like legends.

But as his little ship enters the deep shadow of the moon, golden lights come to life before his eyes: on the dark surface, there is an entire city.

Veritas braces himself.

He lands the shuttle and tethers himself to the side before exiting. His thoughts are jumbled, his senses on high alert. As the door opens, he looks around. There are buildings and houses, distinct in their shape, yet ruined.

Some great catastrophe happened here, long ago. Distant stars shine over him, and the golden glow that he saw from above seems to come from the remnants of the buildings themselves. When he looks down, he finds footprints on the dusty surface. Very human footprints, very familiar ones: there is only one person that has custom made soles that leave spade imprints like these ones.

"I knew it."

What else can he do but follow them? He is a scientist, a researcher, a curious man full of questions. The path to his answers is here, leading him past the limit of the shuttle's tether, past what was once a flourishing civilization, through broken homes and dead streets. To a grand set of stairs and a figure at the top, glowing with a golden honey light that cannot possibly be human.

To a smiling Aventurine, in his usual showy attire and his cocky attitude. He oh-so-casually adjusts his watch and snaps his fingers once, and that golden glow extends outwards, in a dome that covers both of them.

"Well? Are you coming up?"

"Show off."

Veritas takes his time going up the stairs, taking in the sight before and around him. Aventurine is patient, waiting for him, his right hand twirling a casino chip and his left tucked behind his back. Veritas would like to say something — anything — but when he reaches him, he can't find his words.

Instead, he takes Aventurine's left hand and presses their palms together, in the same way Aventurine himself has done before, in the darkness of Veritas' bedroom.

He counts his heartbeats, unable to feel the other's touch through the thick material of his suit. A small white light flashes and disappears, a distant comet light-years away from them. Aventurine's face is so close, he can see his helmet reflecting in his eyes. There is a new light in them, the unique neon colours of them shining with something he can only call joy and relief.

And then Aventurine laughs, dropping their hands and reaching for the base of his helmet. Veritas doesn't move away, just lets him open the visor's front piece.

"You really trust me this much, huh?"

"You wouldn't have led me here if you wanted me dead, gambler."

"Very true."

It goes like this: they sit under the golden dome, with the leftovers of the Avgin and their once prosperous city below them and the great vastness of the cosmos above them. They talk and talk and talk some more, of the many, many possibilities that extend from this moment, of the many paths they could take. Of the promise Aventurine made to his long gone family, of the long and painful centuries that have passed for him.

Of the fact that someone knows the truth now. That Veritas knows that the Avgin were real, that one of them survives.

A lot of uncertainty remains; a lot of questions have no satisfying answer yet. Etching the Avgin in memory will not be an easy feat. But, as they hold hands under the far away stars, one thing is certain: they will face all of that together. And who knows, perhaps on some other dark moon, more glowing secrets await them.