The Moon Has a Front Porch

How it begins

June Vale found the porch light on the dark side of the Moon. It glowed amber above a wooden step, illuminating a welcome mat that had somehow gathered lunar dust without becoming dirty.

She stopped the survey rover. Her map showed rock, shadow and a crater numbered by people who believed numbers were less presumptuous than names. Nothing about a house.

Marek Chu leaned forward beside her. As the habitat carpenter, he had come to assess a ridge for future construction. He stared at the porch rail.

'That joint is impossible.'

'The house is impossible.'

'Yes, but the joint is particularly good.'

They approached on foot. No footprints preceded theirs. The house stood in the crater floor as comfortably as a cottage beside a lane, its windows reflecting a sky that contained more stars than June could see behind her.

The door opened before she touched it. Warm air moved across her suit sensors. Breathable. Correct pressure. The readings were too reassuring.

Marek found a small slate hanging beside the bell. On it, neat letters appeared.

TWO GUESTS EXPECTED.

Inside, a table held two cups. A third chair waited folded against the wall. June heard the slow settling of timber, the sound of a building making space. A new doorway formed beside the fireplace. Beyond it lay a room containing her childhood kitchen.

She stepped back.

Marek put a hand on the porch rail. The wood warmed beneath his glove.

'It wants to make us comfortable.'

'Or keep us.'

The folded chair opened by itself. Its place faced the doorway, not the fire, as though someone intended to sit and listen.

On the slate, another sentence appeared.

I HAVE HAD A LONG TIME TO PRACTICE WELCOMING YOU.

June looked up at the Moon's silent horizon. For the first time in her survey career, the empty landscape seemed less empty than patient.