Farewell, Earth Balustrades

You know, I’m starting to get the vague impression that living on the moon isn’t going to be very fun. I know we’re up there to build a glorious kingdom that will last for 45, 650 years, the greatest society ever created and a utopia in every way, and there may be some teething issues while we’re on our way to that goal.

But then we’re told that we’ll essentially be living in hyperbaric chambers while things are being constructed, and even after the domes are up, it’ll be spartan. Travel times between domes will be a commuter nightmare. I asked one of our Leaders if I can use some of the leftover glass to create some lovely glass balustrade magic in my future dome dwelling. They simply snapped that “all glass is for dome use, not for personal dwellings!”

Well, okay. You didn’t need to say it like that. I just thought I’d try to replicate the lovely balustrade setup I’ve had for years, long before I joined the cult. Yes, it was before, in case any other of my brothers and sisters want to come by and criticise me for extravagances. It just gets really awkward when we’re all in the living room for a weekly time of moon brainstorming, we’re sipping tea made with real powdered moon rock (specially provided by the leaders; it tastes remarkably like Rooibos) and people keep casting judgemental glances over at the glass balustrades. I’ve explained many times. It’s time to stop. 

I expect they’ll come by my house at some point and disassemble them, just so they can have more fuel for the rocket. That’s… fine, I suppose. The best glazing company Melbourne ever had actually put them in there for me, years ago, but certainly, just come in and rip them out. I don’t mind. We’re supposed to say goodbye to Earth things, because better things await us above. Balustrading would be a start, though.