The landing was official. The jump was personal.
For the Record
“The landing was completed successfully,” Rowan said.
In his helmet, Mina’s voice answered, “I’ve put that in the log.”
He looked across the pale ground towards the camera she was setting up beside the rover. Behind him, their spacecraft stood with its steps lowered. Above the far ridge, Earth looked small enough to cover with his thumb.
“The equipment is in position.”
“That too.”
He tightened his fingers round the flagpole.
“Anything else?” she asked.
He thought about the sentence he had practised on the journey. Something about exploration. He had changed the last few words three times.
“I’m rather pleased.”
There was a small silence.
“Rowan,” Mina said, “you’ve been laughing since the bottom step.”
The Picture at Home
They had finished the first outside tasks. Mina had taken the photographs for the record, and now there was time for one to send home.
Rowan had imagined this picture for years. He knew where he wanted the spacecraft, where the flag would stand, and which shoulder he would turn towards the camera.
At home, there was already a photograph of him beside a spacecraft.
His mother had made that one from two cardboard boxes. He had insisted on silver paint and a window. By the time she fetched her camera, he had climbed onto the garden wall and jumped, one slipper leaving his foot halfway down.
She had kept the picture in the kitchen. When he first brought Mina home, his mother had shown it to her before offering tea.
“You’d think there would be more recent achievements to discuss,” he had said.
His mother had pointed to the slipper.
“I caught that.”
In Position
“Ready?” Mina asked.
Rowan moved into the place they had chosen. His breathing sounded close inside the helmet. The flagpole pressed firmly into his glove, and a small adjustment of his shoulder brought the spacecraft into the edge of his visor.
He stood straight.
“Like that?”
“Very distinguished.”
He lifted his chin a little.
“Even more distinguished.”
He began to laugh again.
For a moment, he could see the kitchen photograph as clearly as the ridge in front of him: the crooked cardboard window, his mother’s thumb at the edge of the picture, the slipper on its separate journey.
He bent his knees.
“Oh,” Mina said.
He pushed off, lifting his free fist as his boots left the ground.
The pale surface dropped away beneath him. He had time to see his own shadow change shape before his feet came down again.
His laugh filled the helmet.
“Both boots,” Mina said. “A personal best.”
The One to Send
Beside the rover, Mina showed him the photographs on the camera display.
The first had exactly the arrangement he had planned. Spacecraft, flag, explorer. His shoulders were level, and both feet rested neatly on the ground.
In the next, his knees were bent beneath him and his raised fist seemed to be greeting somebody just outside the frame.
Rowan looked from one to the other.
“We can take another standing one,” Mina said.
He considered how carefully he had chosen the angle of his shoulders. In the jumping picture, one was considerably higher than the other.
“No. Send that one.”
“The distinguished one?”
He touched the edge of the second picture with his gloved finger.
“Mum will recognise that one.”
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