Luna: Episode 9

Evidence of inhumane crimes

Aug 18, 2024

Mars appeared at the door to Luna’s home and strummed their chimes. From the kitchen Mac yelled, “Luna? Can you see who it is?”

Luna walked to their glass door and saw that it was Mars. He yelled through the glass, “I’ve got something here that belongs to you.” She ran the last steps to the door and flung it open. Mars turned back towards his cop car, shouted, “Rin! Come!” and Rin bounded out the car towards Luna who had dropped to her knees with joy.

She knew it was a machine. But she couldn’t help but love the robot’s companionship. “I’ll never let you out of my sight again!” Rin wagged its ridiculous tail which was simply a petite long-range Bluetooth antenna.

Modern robots do not appear robotic. If a robot appears robotic that marks it as vintage junk, an ancient clunker. An eyesore, a last century rattle trap that has long outlived its prime. When Luna’s friends saw her robotic dog, they were perplexed by the thing. Rin looked less like a living canine like the modern droids and more like a large metallic insect.

Rin was a rarity, an uncommon sight in 2100, a sight Luna’s shrinking circle of friends called “Luna’s bug.”

Rin was a primitive predecessor of today’s beautiful life-like droids with a tiny head that doubled as a grip with two small emotionless glowing cameras for eyes on top. Rin’s head was at the end of its lengthy robotic neck which when it was extended made Rin resemble a small Brontosaurus.

“Want to visit your aunt Maya with me? She has something for me I want to see. Ask your grandpa if he wants to come with us.”

Carlos hopped in the front seat next to Mars, Luna and Rin scurried into the back and they silently wheeled across town in the dark. Carlos asked Mars, “What’s up?”

“Your daughter Maya found a diary from the 2050s. I thought you’d be interested.”

“Yeah? I was a teenager back then.”

“It was kept by an eyewitness to whatever happened at Campo Libertad. Ever hear of it?”

Carlos fell silent. And after a hard swallow he said, “Libertad? Never heard of it.”

In the back seat Luna listened intently and noted how Carlos’s voice went from normal to a whisper. When Mars parked in front of Maya’s home and got out Carlos volunteered to stay in the car. Luna said, “Come on let’s all go in!” She dragged Carlos out, despite his protestations and the four of them stood outside Maya’s door which flung open when Mars tugged the chimes. Maya smiled. “Come in!”

Luna said, “Nice night! Where’s Sol?”

Maya said, “Working at the reactor site. It’s just us. I want to show you what I found.” Maya led them into a workroom crowded with hundreds of boxes surrounding a large worktable piled high with more boxes, all of them decorated with May’s handwriting describing the contents of each treasure box. “It’s here.” She lifted the lid of one box and carefully plucked a charred notebook out of it and set it on the table before them. Hand lettered across the cover of the old notebook were the words “Campo Libertad. Summer of 2053. Tucson.” As Mars and Maya chatted about the contents and the mass grave, Luna, noticed her grandfather had fallen quiet, quieter than she’d ever seen him. He struggled to engage. “Who wrote this you suppose?”

Maya opened it to the first ruled page inked in black ink. “Says right here. ‘Sergeant Matthew Triplehorn. Tucson Militia. Company D.’ Ever hear of him?” Carlos shook his head and said, “I need to sit down.” Mars mumbled,” This is exactly what I was hoping for. Is it broken down by the day?”

“Yes. And I think June 7th is the day when the killing started.” Luna, Mars and Maya were riveted by the notebook’s contents. Carlos stood back, out of the light. After thumbing through a few pages Maya found the page she’d bookmarked and slowly read aloud from the author’s account. ” June 7. 12 of us assigned sentry duty on western fence. Hot night. 114°. No rain. Stories of crop failures in the Midwest again. Refugees restless.” Maya paused and said “Triplehorn then lists the members of his unit, Company D, and their ages.” Luna turned to look back over her shoulder. “Grandpa. Which Company were you in?”

“So long ago. I couldn’t tell you.”

“Cut to the chase.” Mars was impatient.

Maya continued reading. “18, 000 refugees passed today. We got 1200 here at this camp. Numbers constantly changing as climate drives more north. Huge demand, strains. Food shortages. Water shortages. Refugees think we’re holding back supplies. Chanting. Throwing rocks. Fence post rocked loose. Mob presses through barbwire. Ref grabs Pvt Laurie’s gun. Refuses to drop it. Shots fired from behind me and in front of-“

Luna says, “Why did you stop, Maya?”

“The rest is unintelligible. Water damage from floods.”

Mars asks Maya, “What about the names on that list he mentions?”

Maya turns back a page and begins reading the list.” Sergeant Floyd Eckstrom. Private Aldo Bonaventura. Private Ali Hassan. Private Carlos-” Maya stopped and stared at the name in disbelief. “Private Carlos Diego Montaño.” She lowered the notebook and looked at her father who was silent in the darkness, studying his hands. Luna said, “Grandpa? Were you there?” Carlos nodded. Maya said “Dad. How come you never told any of us about this?” Carlos just looked at his adult daughter, helpless to explain. Mars said, “What do you know about what happened that terrible night?” Carlo shook his head and retreated outside leaving Luna to watch Mars accept Maya’s find as evidence and tuck it under his arm.

On the ride back to Luna’s family home no one punctured the silence in the dark. Mac and Calypso were there when they returned. Mac explained everything while Carlos found a familiar seat at the kitchen counter. As Mars said his good days and showed himself out he said, “I’ll have to question you, Carlos. As soon as that list of militia members is made public others will be speaking the truth. Will you?”

Luna touched his shoulder. “Grandpa?”

Grandpa Montaño nodded. “I told them, ’We’ve been here 10,000 years’.”

The next day the overnight low was 119° and Cassius MacKenzie was coming home from Antarctica after being gone for more than a year and on the way to the modern beautiful train depot no one spoke to Carlos.

Luna liked the white cavernous thing. Heat reflecting white was the omnipresent color in Tucson. White clothing. White roofs. White vehicles. White sidewalks. White roads. The adoption of white as the color of choice was never mandated by law but gradually came to be the custom by common sense. Luna loved her white tunic and her white kaffiyeh scarf. It was flattering, light and sensible and within a generation it was the norm. With white the dominant color it made our desert city look like the Arab desert cities she saw on-Mind, a middle-eastern Holy city.

Cassius was as handsome as ever according to his sister Luna. They all ran to him. Even old Carlos, as best he could.

Abrazos! Come here, you! I missed you. It’s great to see you! You look wonderful. You,too. We missed you, mijo!

First, Cassius the medic had to inspect his mother. “You okay, mom?” She nodded. “Dad, is she telling the truth?”

“No, your mother never tells the truth about herself. But, she is tough.”

“Luna, how’s life?”

“We’ll talk.”

“How was the Paris conference, dad? What’s this I read about a mass grave? Who’s this? Rin! What’s new with you? Have you turned over a new leaf?”

Mac announced the sun would be setting in about 6-hours. “And Luna has school and your mother and I have to go to work so we need to turn in.”

Cassius hugged his grandfather. “Sleep well.” Luna hugged her brother and followed her grandfather to his room and leaned against the doorway as he prepared for bed. “Grandpa. What happened there?”

“Something we thought we could bury.”