Originally, the bar was supposed to be on the Sun; but if I followed through with that I could only be open at night. I feel as though the patrons I cater to require their libations day or night and so I settled on the moon.

The Moon is a tough place to set up shop. What with their dry counties. However, I know honest people just need a drink and sometimes they just need a drink to hold onto for dear life. A beverage to see you through the small, but particularly violent storm that is day-to-day existence. I hear you, friend. Which is why I opened this speakeasy. As long as you keep it to yourself and away from any of those Lunar Magistrates; I think we will get along just fine.

The Moon has changed in the short amount of time I have been here. Not as shiny and new as it used to be. Each crater a little less deep, each dust pile a little less charming. But, I don’t let the diminished luminosity of the Moon get me down. I serve folk their drinks and sometimes I sit and I talk with them about their troubles.

This one fellow came in the other day. Real business type. Ordered with authority and wore a suit like plate armor. He was busy trying to heat up his glass of whisky with his eyes and I focused on cleaning glasses myself. He quietly ordered another neat whisky before upending his own glass and downing the whole thing in one go. You see a fella down a drink like that and it just picks at your brain why he did it. I’m not one to let questions like that stew, so I ask him about it as I bring him another drink. I almost wish I hadn’t.

Business hasn’t changed much in the last century. Everyone has to make a dollar, sure; but some search for ways to get it faster and harder. It didn’t take much, just a little suggestion and he told me everything I had already suspected. He told me about Earth and another outbreak. He told me about the cure and just how much it cost to make it and just how much it cost to buy it. He told me how difficult it was to live with what he did and how there were drugs to suppress those feelings. He told me all this and then downed his drink, left money on the bar top, and put on his hat all in one smooth motion.

I tried a moral suppression pill once when I was just some kid. Let me tell you; there is a reason I work a job with booze close at hand.

After all that I didn’t hate the man. In fact, he is one of the reasons I opened a speakeasy on the Moon. Everyone needs a place to drink. Some folks drink slow and easy and others, like the businessman, drink quickly and with purpose. Him, like I, won’t ever forget why were drinking though.

At some point in your life you’ll need a drink. If you’re on the Moon, come have a drink at my place. It’s cheap, I sweep up the dust, and there is no judgement on my side of the bar.