Prologue
Mark O’Grady and Joe Paskudny were college mates at the Air Force Academy. During summer vacations they joined with others to do crop art on Kansas wheat fields. Mark had taken the technique to a higher level by adapting the software employed by row-crop farmers to operate their tractors robotically under GPS control. A half dozen conspirators with hand held equipment, wearing snowshoes, could stamp out the most intricate of designs in a single moonlit night. To their amazement, they managed to avoid detection for two summers. During the third summer they were caught by a half dozen Future Farmers of America and were chased out of the state. One of the six conspirators was Mark’s sweetheart, whose name was Marijka Wooster. Among friends the pair was frequently labeled M and M.
Mark and Joe graduated from the Academy and entered graduate school, from which they emerged with honors. Mark signed up for the Astronaut Corps. Joe however opted out of the military, deciding instead to take up astronomy. He landed a position on Mt. Palomar and soon was promoted to staff director.
* * *
By mid twenty-first century, rare earths, vital elements for electronics production, had become the major reason for occupying the Moon. Earth sources had largely dried up. The Sir Arthur C. Clarke Lunar Base was the third site put up on the moon’s surface by a consortium of American mineral firms. The base was located in the southwest corner of Mare Vaporum where an exploratory mission in the late 30’s had located an outcropping that was rich in ore. The base complement of Lunarians numbered just over a hundred men and women - geologists, miners, engineers, chemists, mechanics, a pair of physicians, cooks, etc.
By that time the “operate by the book” atmosphere attendant to living in the unforgiving lunar environment had relaxed considerably. NASA no longer ran the show. Science had given way to commercial exploitation. There were days off for the Lunarians, though the mining operation ran around the clock every day of the week. While hiking away from the base was restricted to pairs, a Lunarian could sign up for a rover and take off for an extended tour, solo, to explore the surrounding territory. Rovers were equipped with safety chambers so in the event of trouble an erstwhile explorer could take occupancy until help arrived. Of course, with the high state of development of lunar positioning satellites, LGPS, it was almost impossible to get lost.
Mark signed up as a computer specialist and trouble shooter for the standard twelve month tour. That worked out fine with Marijka, who had just won a Fulbright that took her to Europe for a year.
Early in February of the year 2053 Mark stood outside the huge crew residence chamber, fully suited, observing the arrival of a brand new skip loader from the rocket landing site, its six massive drive wheels churning up the moon dust. It was John Deere’s latest model, fitted with all the bells and whistles, designed and built to specifications sent back to Earth by the moon base’s resident engineers. It was the first of a new line of equipment styled for extra-terrestrial application, powered by a thorium based nukette. It was Mark’s job to inspect the vehicle, take it through its paces and certify it for use by the miners. Mark was intrigued by the big knobby tires and the deep tracks they left in their wake. His mind went back to the days when he was doing crop art. He smiled to himself as an opportunity to do a similar work materialized in his brain.
For the next few evenings, after working on the skip loader all day, Mark retired early to the cell that served as his private quarters, and set to work at his computer. First he prepared the design, which was uncomplicated. Then he updated his old software for loading into LGPS control. It was not at all tedious as he was able to adapt most of his previous work when doing crop art. The main difficulties rested in integration with the skip loader’s control system. He was pleased that the engineers had called for remote control capability in the vehicle’s specifications, though they had seen no immediate need for it. That was followed by review after review to make certain there was no chance of failure. He would have only one opportunity to do this.
On the second Sunday of February Mark signed out the skip loader for a trial run in the open. He suited up, entered the cabin of the vehicle, raised the internal pressure to one atmosphere and then shed his space suit, as he preferred the comfort of a shirtsleeve environment. He travelled about twenty miles on a northeast heading to where he was aware that a vast, smooth sandy terrain existed. He stopped, established his LGPS coordinates, then retrieved a software element from a pocket and inserted it into the control panel receptacle.
Two minutes later the skip loader began to move. There was nothing more for Mark to do. A huge piece of artwork, more than a mile across, was entrusted to the skip loader and its LGPS guiding hand, its wheels making deep impressions that would be visible from afar. The impression time was extended as Mark was aware that several tracks side by side would be necessary for visibility from Earth. From time to time he felt the skip loader making swift turns. His eyes followed the pattern of the artwork on the view screen as it was gradually filled in. By those motions he was quite certain that it was following the design profile as intended. In less than an hour the vehicle stopped. The screen image showed it at its starting point. ARTWORK INSTALLED appeared beneath the image.
Upon returning to the moon base Mark contacted his friend Joe Paskudny. As luck would have it, Joe was at work at the Palomar observatory. The two hundred inch glass mirror had just been resurfaced and the crew was going through the final stages of alignment and checkout.
“Joe, I need a favor.”
“Speak, pal.”
“I need a photo of a spot on the moon, and I need it today.”
“That’s a pretty tall order.” Several seconds elapsed. “But as it happens, you called me at the right time. We’re just coming out of down time. Give me the coordinates.”
Shortly, Joe got the telescope pointed at the site and produced a sharp image. He posted it to Mark immediately, with the message: “Wow! You got something going with the chocolate factory?”
Mark did not reply. He was busy posting the image to his sweetheart.
In Stuttgart, Marijka gazed with delight at Mark’s handiwork, an enormous heart shaped image on the surface of the moon with an arrow running through it. On the face of the heart - the letters M+M. The accompanying message contained only three words. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
Epilogue
Joe Paskudny was duly amazed at Mark’s enormous stunt. He felt it should not go unnoticed and posted it on the net on the fourteenth of February, where it immediately went globally viral.
At Mars Incorporated, officials were nonplussed at the sudden reversal of M&M’S sales, accompanied by a rash of Environment Party complaints against the corporation for messing up the moon’s surface. It was left to the publicity department to straighten things out but the best they could do, while privately wishing they had thought of the idea, was a disclaimer, stating that if it were their doing, the legend would not have read M+M but rather their registered logo - M&M’S
Crop art was no longer a clandestine affair. By June of the same year three engineers at the Air Force Academy had completed construction and tests on a robotically controlled hybrid power mower/weed whacker. At semester’s end they packed their equipment into a van and headed for the Saskatchewan wheat fields to participate in the annual crop art competitions sponsored by the Regina Museum of Contemporary Art.
Copyright © 2012 - Edward Hujsak
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