Luna: New Moon

‘And the moon has changed my heart. I came here as a Brazilian, I stand here as a woman of the moon. I gave up one identity to build another one. It’s the same for all of us, I think; we keep our language and our customs, our cultures and our names, but we are the moon.

‘But the greatest thing the moon changes is itself. I’ve seen this world go from a research base to a handful of industrial habitats to a full civilisation. Fifty years is a long time in a human life; it’s even longer in the life of a new nation. We are no mean satellite; we are a world now. Down on Earth they say we’ve raped it, taken its natural beauty and despoiled it with our tracks and our trains and our extractors, our solar batteries and server farms and our billions and billions of eternal footprints. Our mirrors dazzle them, down there; our King Dong offends them. But the moon always was ugly. No, not ugly. Plain. To see the beauty of this place, you have to go under the surface. You have to dig down to the cities and quadras, the habitats and agraria. You have to see the people. I’ve played my part in building this wonderful world. More than my company, even more than my family, it’s my proudest achievement.

‘At the age of eighty, it’s time to enjoy my achievements. My world is in good shape, my family are proud and respected, my company has gone from strength to strength, not least our recent successful acquisition of the Mare Anguis fields. So, for Adriana Corta, at last, a rest. I am stepping down from my position as hwaejang of Corta Hélio. Rafael will be hwaejang, Lucas will be bu-hwaejang. You’ll find nothing changed: my boys have been effectively running the company for the past ten years. For me, I shall enjoy my retirement and the company of my family and friends. Thank you for your good wishes for this day; I shall treasure them in the days to come. Thank you.’

Adriana sits down to consternation. Around the room, around her table, mouths are open in astonishment. All but Duncan Mackenzie, who leans close to Adriana and whispers, ‘I sure picked the right party to crash.’ Adriana answers with a small laugh but its bright, silvery; almost a girl’s. An unburdened laugh. Ariel is leaning across the table, Rafa is on his feet, Carlinhos, Wagner; everyone asking questions at the same time, until a loud, steady handclap cuts through. Lucas stands, hands raising, applauding. Across the room another pair of hands replies; then two, then four, then the whole party is standing, raining applause on Adriana Corta. She stands, smiles, bows.

Lucas’s is the last pair of hands to fall silent.

After the shock, the questions.

Helen de Braga slides in a whisper before Ariel’s arrival.

‘I thought you said it was too morbid for your birthday.’

‘I only said I was retiring,’ Adriana says. She squeezes her old friend’s hand. ‘Later.’

Ariel kisses her mother.

‘I thought for one hideous moment you were going to give me a job.’

‘Oh, my love,’ Adriana says, then finds her tone of command to her entourage. ‘I’m very tired. It’s been a demanding day. I’d like to go home.’

Heitor Pereira summons security. They cordon Adriana from the inquisitions of her guests.

‘Congratulations on your retirement Senhora,’ Heitor says, ‘but with respect to my position; it’s no secret that Lucas wants rid of me.’

‘I look after my own, Heitor.’

The guards part for Rafa. Behind him is Lousika Asamoah. Rafa embraces his mãe.

‘Thank you,’ he says. ‘I won’t let you down.’

‘I’ve thought about the succession long and hard.’ Adriana strokes his cheek.

‘Succession?’ Rafa asks but Adriana is already receiving a stiff embrace from Lucas.

‘Whatever possessed you, Mamãe?’

‘I’ve always been attracted to the dramatic.’

‘In front of that Mackenzie.’

‘He’d have found out. Whispers fly around the world in an instant.’

‘The CEO of Mackenzie Metals. They tried to kill Rafa.’

‘And I gave him my word that we would not go back to the old corporate war days.’

‘Mãe, you’re not hwaejang any more.’

‘I didn’t give him my word as hwaejang.’

‘They’ll break it. Duncan Mackenzie may give his word, but his father doesn’t forgive. The Mackenzies repay three times.’

‘I trust him, Lucas.’

Lucas purses his fingers, dips his head but Adriana knows he cannot concur. After him come Carlinhos, Wagner, the madrinhas and the children: Adriana progresses down an aisle of ringing applause and smiling faces. At the door she sees a figure among the ornamental trees.

‘Let me through.’

Irmã Loa lifts her crucifix from among her beads. Adriana Corta bends to kiss it.

‘When will you tell them?’ Irmã Loa whispers.

‘When the succession is secure,’ Adriana says. Familiars are listening, they can hear whispers but they can’t parse private code. Irmã Loa takes out a flask and sprinkles Adriana Corta with sacred water.

‘The blessing of Saints Jesus and Mary, Jeronimo and Our Lady of Conception, Saint George and Saint Sebastian, Cosmos and Damian and the Lord of the Cemeteries, Santa Barbra and Santa Anne on you, your family and all your projects.’