“Yeah,” Lee says. Her voice is so small. The sun won't set for another four hours. She has one hand gripping his tightly enough to leave small pink marks from her fingernails, the other hand hovering in front of her face, curled fingers against her mouth. There are, at this exact second, two people sitting in a vehicle on the moon.
They got out.
That it actually happened within her lifetime is extraordinary to her. What else might they do before she dies? All her friends can talk about is dying while they're still young, they think it's romantic to be twenty-five forever, but Lee wants to live to be a hundred, fat and old and watching young people colonise the moon and go to Mars and Venus and past the asteroid belt. There could be so much out there. Authors have been writing about it for years. Shuttles taking people to other planets, like buses. People vacationing on Saturn's moons.
She turns her head towards his, presses her face into his neck. “What if they go to Mars,” she says, a terrible fear swelling in her.