There is such loneliness in that gold.
The moon these nights is not the moon
The first Adam saw. Long centuries
Of human vigil have overcome her with
An old wailing. Look at her. She is your mirror.
“The Moon,” Jorge Luis Borges
Oliver Adams walked out of his cabin holding in his hand the ax he had been sharpening the day before. Inside, Emmeline and little Cora were still asleep. The moon continued to shine above. Another baby was on the way, so the family would soon grow larger, meaning he had to cut logs to expand their humble home. It was a full moon, and Oliver was delighted as he looked at the round, silver face of that friendly satellite. He remembered seeing it rise from the sea, imposing in its splendor, when he had served as a missionary in the Pacific Islands. The moon had become a sort of constant friend that he loved watching ecstatically up there.
He had found some Rocky Mountain junipers that would provide the ideal wood for the main beams. After that, perhaps the old pines that he had spotted in one of his explorations would come in handy. It was not easy to find the right type of wood in this isolated region Brother Brigham had sent them to settle.
An hour later, his arms tired and sweat running down his body, he paused to catch his breath. The silver moon, after reaching its highest peak, began to descend. How beautiful it was on its majestic path! He remembered some talks he had heard Brother Brigham give in which he claimed that both the moon and the sun were inhabited. Personally, Oliver doubted it. Everyone knew that sometimes Brigham would get carried away with the fantasies of his mind more so than with the revelations of the Lord, or at the very least, that he seemed to mix both things to varying degrees.
Of course, there was also his patriarchal blessing. He had received in Nauvoo, when the Prophet Joseph was still among them. In it, he had been promised that he would preach the gospel before reaching 21 years of age, that he would do so among the inhabitants of the islands of the sea and also among those of the moon, the one planet that was visible from the Earth. The first two promises were fulfilled; therefore, it seemed reasonable to hope that the third one would also come true. But he couldn’t see how. Rather, he thought the patriarch was under the influence of the peculiar visions of Brigham Young and of those who believed and repeated them.
The flapping of some wings to his right caught his attention. It was an owl, a winged messenger of the night, who looked back at him calmly. He was ready to resume his task when the rustling of branches behind him caused him to become alert. Some shadows seemed to be approaching. He regretted not bringing his rifle. Indians did not usually come near this area, but perhaps some elk or mule deer was wondering around, and it would have been worth the trouble of hunting it. It would have fed them for week or more.
Soon, a thin mist rose around him, and his eyesight became blurry. He was aware of two presences that approached him, and of a third one that followed from a distance…
“Ahhhhjnirv… riistglubyyy,” one of them said.
Said was not the right verb. Oliver had heard the words in his head more than in his ears.
“AAhhhjcdrii… Iffnstaaacl… peace,” repeated the voice in his mind.
“What?” Oliver replied, without experiencing any kind of fear.
“Aah… Peace… Peace… Peace.”
Indeed, Oliver was feeling a sense of complete peace all over his body and in his mind. He was well versed in the scriptures and could not help but remember the time when the Nephites, round about the temple, heard the voice of God but failed to understand it until the third time, when they tuned their souls into their hearing.
The outsiders wore long, silver attire and peculiar body suits made of the same material that covered everything but their faces. Oliver had seen divers off the ports of the Tuamotu islands repairing damaged ships. The visitors’ clothing looked similar, although less bulky and more practical. They signaled for him to follow. Without knowing exactly why, the young settler grabbed his coat from the branch on which it hung and obeyed.
Brilliant stars peppered the sky. The light that ruled the night soared over the hills, sprinkling their silhouettes with gold and silver as the travelers reached a clearing in the terrain. There was a strange and enormous contraption there. It was as silver as the clothes on the visitors. A door opened, and they gestured for him to walk through it. Oliver didn’t resist. Could these be the three Nephites whom the Lord allowed to continue to live in order to fulfill His purposes? He had heard many unlikely and vague reports about their occasional appearances, but something told him that no, that this was not them.
The interior of the artifact was round, filled with lights, cranks, and levers. They offered him a seat fixed to the floor and then sat in similar seats. They took their helmets off as the door closed hermetically. They were all taller than Oliver. Their hair was silver and their eyes large. They all looked alike. Their faces reflected kindness and trustworthiness, which helped young Oliver relax. He asked them in his mind where they came from, and they simply pointed toward the sky with their hands.
They brought him a green drink and a green pill in a container. They indicated that he should eat and drink, and he did so without any fear. It wasn’t particularly tasty, but it wasn’t unpleasant either. The visitors looked at each other, seemed to agree on something, and from their seats pressed certain lights and turned some dials. Something started to move, and his companions relaxed as if to slumber off. A drowsiness also took hold of Oliver, yet he managed to look out a window just in time to see that the floor was moving farther and farther away and his cabin becoming smaller and smaller. Strangely enough, he wasn’t concerned…
While his body rested, his mind continued to work and ask questions. He remembered Isaiah:
“Who are these that fly as a cloud, and as the doves to their windows?”
As they entered the deep darkness of space, its vastness and the appearance of stars that were invisible from Earth displayed a completely new sight, one that human eyes could hardly suspect. Other quotes were piling up in the folds of Oliver’s brain.
“When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained,” stated the psalmist.
And had not Jehovah replied to his servant Job in these words? “Canst thou bind the sweet influences of Pleiades, or loose the bands of Orion? Canst thou bring forth Mazzaroth in his season? or canst thou guide Arcturus with his sons? Knowest thou the ordinances of heaven?”
No. Oliver didn’t know them either… While he was thinking these things, he fainted.
When he regained consciousness, all he could see was the moon. What a splendid sight! He felt a kind of vertigo, but the discomfort soon passed. The moon’s circumference was enormous. Even the tiniest details on its surface could be fully appreciated. Its contours were bright and sharp. There was no glare or halo around it, and the stardust that covered the black sky provided an ideal contrast.
The sight grew larger by the minute, and it seemed as though they would crash into it. However, at the very last moment, they slowed down, and the ship, or whatever it was, landed gently on the white dust of a huge crater. They were on the surface of the moon. Looking through the window, Oliver saw the frozen loneliness of its landscapes, the quiet softness of its light…
The crew put their body suits back on and instructed their new companion to wear some gear similar to theirs. Once the preparations were completed, the hatch door opened again. They went outside.
Although the suit was rather heavy, Oliver felt he was floating like a feather. He jumped up and down, performing pirouettes that would be impossible in Earth’s atmosphere. It was like flying. When he tired of jumping, he started looking at his surroundings—the opal reflections inside the craters, the timid paleness of the rocks, the amber glow, the faraway valleys of shadow. There were gray peaks and amazing hills of ivory white and cold snows. Suddenly, presiding over the night sky, there it was, Earth, distant and beloved. Only then did he realize how far he was from his loved ones; it made him want to return to the safety of the ship, which he did, but not before picking up in his glove a small white stone from the path. Once inside, he would put it in his jacket pocket.
Now, the time had come to mind talk. Oliver conveyed to the companions his love for his family, for his beliefs, and for the teachings he had received since his early youth. He told them of his missionary service in faraway lands, and he did his best to teach them the same thing he had shared with the inhabitants of the islands. Every time he mentioned the Savior, the three companions looked at each other and nodded their heads. He wasn’t sure who was teaching whom. He learned they weren’t Selenites but rather inhabitants of a very distant world who had started on a sort of pilgrimage to visit the planet where the Creator of the Universe died to give everyone life. They had reached Earth trying not to be discovered by its inhabitants, and to that end, they selected a secluded place for landing. When they perceived Oliver’s longing for the moon, they decided to turn his dream into a reality. They would take him back to his home… Oliver’s eyes brimmed with tears, and his heart filled with gratitude. These brethren from the cosmos knew what it meant to love without measure.
The return trip was like the first trip but backwards. The drink and the green pill. The seats. The Earth enlarging. The drowsiness…
His journey through the scriptures. David had said it: “It shall be established for ever as the moon, and as a faithful witness in heaven.”
And so had Paul: “There is one glory of the sun, and another glory of the moon, and another glory of the stars…”
“And God saw that it was good.”
Then, the fainting.
Oliver found himself alone in the clearing where it had all started. He looked up at the sky and saw a star that was larger than the rest and that moved rapidly until it disappeared in the distance. He saw that old moon, mysterious yet familiar, silently following the everlasting path of its endless round. He had been there. He had meandered through its wonderful and amazing regions.
He ran towards his cabin. His family would be worried over his absence. Yet he was surprised when he went inside. Everything was just as he had left it. Emmeline and Cora slept peacefully, as if time had not passed.
He stepped outside again. The moon was in the same position as when his adventure began. Had he really lived it? Or had it been a dream, a miracle, a vision, a fiction, a hallucination, even a certain madness brought on by fatigue? Had his imagination played a trick on him? Did such things happen to Brother Brigham? Was he so eager to see his patriarchal blessing fulfilled that had unleashed the longings of his heart? He would never tell anyone this story. Though maybe he would tell Emmeline, when they were old, and they would laugh at this fantasy he had dreamed up…
But then he reached into the pocket of his jacket…and there it was, the white stone he had picked up from the lunar soil.
“To him that overcometh will I give to eat of the hidden manna, and will give him a white stone, and in the stone a new name written, which no man knoweth saving he that receiveth it.”
Translated by Gabriel González.
Mario R. Montani lives in Bahía Blanca, Argentina. He studied Humanities at Argentina’s National University of the South. His short story collection El Castillo Gris y otros cuentos [The Gray Castle and Other Stories] was published by Editorial Dunken in 2009. He has been a member of Cofradía de Letras Mormonas, a group that promotes literature among Spanish-speaking Latter-day Saints, since 2015. He keeps a personal blog titled Mormosofia, where he discusses religious art, theology, and philosophy within Mormon culture. He currently serves as the Multi-Stake Director of Public Affairs and Communications in the Bahía Blanca area.
