It’s so exhilarating. I am on the edge of my seat. Well, not really. Really, I am sitting back on the plush, soft cushions of this velvet recliner. But figuratively, I am on the edge of my seat. We are going to the moon. We are going to the moon! I cannot believe that we are going to the moon. Us, the Baylians, the most advanced civilization that has ever graced the earth as of yet. And the first civilization that will grace the moon.

My mother and father, as well as my two younger brothers, and my boyfriend are all sitting on different couches in the living room, all gathered around the television. It is a large television, the screen is as wide and tall as the length of one of my arms. It’s brand new. We bought it just for this special event. It even shows colours. My dress is also new, made of taffeta and patterned with pink and red roses on a white background. The shoes I’m wearing are new, and match my dress. And my lips are painted soft pink in commemoration of this day.

We are all awaiting eagerly to see what will happen. We have our Baylian flags in our hands, the small, shining things made of metallic paper, in the beautiful - if somewhat garish - red and purple and white of our flag. Our flag. Our flag. Our beautiful flag is going to be put up on the moon, it is going to be waving on the moon for all the world to see, a testament to how we have conquered space.

The maid walks in with the drinks, her dark skin like a smudge of dirt against the softly textured wallpaper and the plush carpet. She is so different from us, with her dark skin and her broad nose and her thick hair. It’s marvellous.

“Thank you, Macy,” my mom speaks coldly as the maid sets them down.

“You’re welcome, ma’am.” Her voice is polite, as it always is. She leaves the room in silence, going back to the kitchen to make us a nice dinner. The family looks at the TV, in awe.

There is an image of a rocket, so great and grand, reaching up for the sky. It has a round body and a thin, pointed nose. It is flanked on either side by metal columns. There are so many people scurrying around this way and that, trying to get everything ready for the liftoff. It’s so immersive, I feel like I am there, with all the scientists and engineers and technicians, preparing with them.

Finally, the rocket jets off, emitting great red, orange, and yellow flames from its tail, and releasing a great roaring sound, like a beast that is on the war path. This is glorious. This is so incredibly glorious. The sound fills up our entire living room, even though it is a spacious room, and the flames from the rocket dance across my eyes. The rocket gets higher and higher and higher, until you cannot see it in the sky anymore.

The television feed then cuts to the camera on the rocket. The windows are currently shut on the spacecraft, so we cannot see the sky as it whizzes by the astronauts, and we cannot see space from a point of view beyond the atmosphere. But we can see all the astronauts, sitting in their small compartment, excitement evident in their eyes.

It is at this point that we decide to go get our dinner. The trip to the moon will take five days. And even though we will have the TV on for that duration, we won’t be watching it for five days straight. So we dig into the meatloaf with a side of hash browns, all deliciously seasoned. The meatloaf is soft and the hash browns are firm. Everything is still warm.

For the next four days, we watch the TV on and off, often reading comic books and magazines in front of it while glancing at the progress of the astronauts. The television is slightly grainy, but of course it is, it is a television after all. If it wasn’t slightly grainy, that would be weird. Even though it’s the latest technology. For these five days, nothing much happens. The astronauts get ready for their trip out to the surface of the moon. And we watch them, since it’s a national holiday right now. A special national holiday commemorating our lunar achievement.

But on the fifth day, something truly amazing happens. They land. They land! The head astronaut, Garmin Hamelstead, holds up the camera as he takes the first, momentous steps on the surface of the moon. The space suits of the astronauts make them look like they are strange, alien beings. And the eeriness of the extraterrestrial surface all around them only adds to this sensation. Their faces are hidden with large, dark, fishbowl-like helmets. Their arms and legs are thick. The moon all around them is a shining, blinding, stark white. And the spacecraft around them is a shining metal behemoth.

“One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind,” Mr. Hamelstead declares.

They walk through the surface of the moon, leaving footprints as they go. The footprints that they leave are large, their metal boots being heavy. There is no wind on the moon. These footprints will be here forever, a testament to all that we have accomplished. A testament to our country. To how we are breaking barriers even in space, the final frontier.

But what will leave an even more everlasting mark on the moon, what will mark it for all of time as ours, will be the flag.

And oh, what a sweet and great moment it is, watching the three astronauts plunge the sharp metal tip of the flagpole into the yielding ground of the moon, the fourth astronaut filming the other three. The flag stands proud and erect, a carefully-coloured rectangle of metal on a metallic pole. Red, white and purple, with a great eagle in the middle, symbolizing our great country.