Ficlets

“If you believe they put a man on the moon,” Anton began, “you’re ready to eat up any propaganda the establishment throws at you.”

I stood agape. Child of the shuttle age that I was, I’d grown up excited to see the Columbia launch when I was eight, and clearly recall the morning of the Challenger disaster, the tears that were shed as my teacher walked into homeroom. Every kid was an astronaut, drawing spaceships, dreaming of flying to the moon or even Mars.

“How could you even know?” I asked, unprepared for this line of discussion.

“The landing was purely a Cold War publicity stunt, intended to demoralize the Russians and to restore faith in America after Sputnik,” Anton replied.

“So…you’re saying it was pure politics.”

“And deception. Hollywood was involved, for the studio. NASA hired the CIA for the cover-up. Look at the photos, they’re clearly fakes.”

Not having any photos on hand, I left it at that, and continue my dream to leave footprints that will never fade.

REM -Man on the Moon