Entry 6: Helping a Friend

Back home after my time at Shackleton Crater, I was ready for a little normalcy - or, as normal as life on the moon gets. That’s when Juno reached out. She needed someone to look after Vinyl Vortex while she made a trip to Earth. I didn’t ask why; Juno’s plans were always her own business. But almost immediately after, Mario, the pizza maestro of Cosmic Slice, called with the same favor. He and Juno had coordinated their vacations, and now I was stuck in a lunar pickle.

I wanted to help them both - I mean, who wouldn’t? But running two businesses simultaneously wasn’t exactly practical. The folks on Frequency X helped me settle the decision - Juno’s record shop won the vote by a landslide.

I still hadn’t told Mario, though. The idea of letting him down didn’t sit right with me, so, I decided to secure another option before breaking the news. That’s when it hit me - there was one person who might be crazy enough to step in. I climbed into Quicksilver and set a course straight for the Dark Side Diner to see Moon Dog.

As I landed near the diner, the familiar neon sign cast its glow across the gray dust. The place was as quiet as ever, but I knew Moon Dog would be there, probably tinkering with something behind the counter or telling stories to an invisible audience.

Sure enough, there he was, leaning against the counter with a cup of steaming coffee in hand, looking like he’d been waiting for something interesting to happen. His hair stuck up in every direction, and his eyes lit up the moment I walked in.

“Well, if it isn’t the Lunite hunter himself!” Moon Dog called out, setting his mug down. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? You look like a man on a mission.”

I laughed, shaking the dust off my boots. “You’re not wrong, Moon Dog. I’ve got a bit of a favor to ask.”

He leaned forward, out of curiosity. “Oh, now this I’ve gotta hear. What kind of trouble have you found yourself in this time?”

“It’s not trouble, exactly,” I began, sliding onto a stool at the counter. “Juno and Mario both asked me to watch their shops while they head to Earth, but I can’t be in two places at once. I’ve got Juno’s shop covered, but Mario’s… well, that’s where you come in.”

Moon Dog raised an eyebrow, then let out a wheezy laugh. “Me? Running a pizza joint? You’re either desperate or you’ve finally lost your marbles.”

“Probably a bit of both,” I admitted with a grin. “But think about it, Moon Dog. You’d get out of this diner for a bit, meet some new people, spin a few stories for the kids hanging out at the mall. And let’s be honest, who wouldn’t want to try a pizza made by the legendary Moon Dog?”

He scratched his chin, pretending to weigh the idea. “Hmm. A pizza-flipping hermit. Has a nice ring to it. Fine, kid, I’ll do it - but only because I like you. And because I’ve got a story or two I’ve been itching to tell a fresh crowd.”

Relief washed over me. “Thanks, Moon Dog. You’re a lifesaver. Mario’s going to love this.”

Moon Dog smirked, but instead of moving on, his expression shifted, and he rubbed the back of his neck, almost shyly. “Y’know, Rex, since you’re here… there’s something I want to ask you.”

“Shoot,” I said, curious where this was going.

He picked up a small rock from the counter and handed it to me - a Lunite shard I recognized immediately. “I found this ages ago near the diner. Been holding onto it, but I’ve never gone through that fancy smelting process you do. Always thought it’d be neat to have a token of my own, something unique.”

I turned the rock over in my hand, its faint glow catching the light. “You’re telling me you’ve never had one made?”

“Nah,” he said with a shrug. “Never had the equipment, and let’s be honest - I don’t have your knack for this stuff. I thought… maybe you could do me a solid? Make me one. I’ll leave the design up to you.”

I smiled, pocketing the shard. “Consider it done, Moon Dog. It’s the least I can do.”

His grin returned in full force. “Now that’s what I like to hear. A Moon Dog token. Got a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

I laughed, standing up to leave. “Just don’t burn the pizza place down, alright.”

“Hey now,” he called as I headed for the door. “I’m a storyteller, not a pyromaniac!”

With Moon Dog on board and his request tucked safely in my mind, I climbed back into Quicksilver. The thought of him running Cosmic Slice - and the look on Mario’s face when he found out - made me chuckle. It was going to be an interesting week.

The next morning, I arrived at the mall early, just in time to introduce Moondog to Mario. Mario had a doubtful look at first, his chef's apron slung over his shoulder as he wiped his hands nervously.

“This is Moondog,” I said, slapping him on the back. “He’s got stories for days, a mean appetite for adventure, and believe it or not, he can toss a pizza. Right, Moondog?”

Moondog gave a grin, his wild hair catching the mall’s fluorescent lights. “I may not have spun dough in a few decades, but I’ve spun stories on every corner of this moon. And trust me, no one leaves my care hungry. Or bored.”

Mario laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t know what’s crazier - that you agreed to this, or that I trust you, Rex.”

“You deserve a break, Mario,” I said. “Go to Earth, eat some real mozzarella, see some grass, and just enjoy it. I’ll check in on Moondog while I’m here running Juno’s shop. We’ve got this.”

He sighed, smiling at last. “Alright, you win. Thanks, Rex. And Moondog, please don’t let the sauce burn.”

Moondog gave a mock salute. “Sauce is sacred, my friend. Now go! Earth’s waitin’ for ya.”

Mario gave me one last handshake and was off, leaving the shop in Moondog’s capable - and slightly eccentric - hands. I had no doubt he’d be entertaining customers with his tall tales within the hour.

With Mario on his way, I headed over to Juno’s record shop. Vinyl Vortex was already alive with the sound of a soulful record spinning, its bassline echoing into the corridor. The shop’s familiar atmosphere - freshly printed sleeves and the electric hum of the sound system - made it feel like home.

I glanced over Juno’s notes on the counter: “Spin records, take requests, and don’t let anyone near the rare collection. I mean it.” Classic Juno, always protective of her treasures.

A few days had gone by, and everything was running smoothly. Moondog had settled into Mario’s shop like he’d been flipping pizzas his whole life. Whenever I checked in on him, he’d have some kid wide-eyed, listening to one of his wild stories about Shackleton Crater, while the smell of freshly baked crust filled the mall.

Meanwhile, Vinyl Vortex felt like a second home. Managing the record shop gave me a newfound respect for Juno. There was always something to do - organizing shelves, helping customers, and keeping the playlist fresh. People came and went, their excitement infectious as they discovered hidden gems on the racks. And even caught myself humming along to songs I hadn’t heard in years.

Then, one quiet afternoon, while restocking a display, I spotted a note scribbled on Juno’s calendar: Meeting with record label. The date had passed by a few days. I paused, staring at it, wondering why she hadn’t mentioned this. Near the calendar, tucked under the counter, was a plain, unmarked vinyl sleeve. My curiosity got the better of me. I slid the record onto the turntable, dropped the needle, and waited.

The music that poured out hit me like a meteorite. It was Juno’s voice - powerful, haunting, and full of raw emotion. The blend of instruments felt both timeless and completely original. I froze, listening, as the shop filled with the sound of her heart as it poured into every note.

Customers began pausing, drawn to the music. One leaned on the counter, tilting their head as they listened. “Hey, who is this? It’s incredible.”

“It’s… someone special,” I said, smiling but keeping her secret.

Feeling inspired, I turned up the volume. The music flowed through the shop, catching the attention of everyone browsing. For a while, I just stood there, watching people react to Juno’s talent, thinking about how much this meant to her—and how much she deserved this moment, even if she wasn’t here to see it.

The day she returned came unexpectedly. I was flipping through some vinyl behind the counter when I heard the shop door chime. Without looking up, I called out, “Welcome to Vinyl Vortex! Let me know if I can help you find anything.”

Silence.

I glanced up and froze. There she was – Juno - standing in the doorway, her bag slung over her shoulder and a stunned expression on her face. Her eyes weren’t on me, though. They were on the record spinning on the turntable, her record.

“You’re playing my music?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

I gave her a sheepish smile. “Uh, surprise?”

She stepped further into the shop, her gaze darting around. A couple of customers were tapping their feet to the music, completely unaware of the weight of the moment. Juno moved closer to the counter, her hands trembling slightly as she set her bag down.

“You found it?” she said softly, almost to herself.

“I did,” I admitted. “It was tucked away under the counter. I had no idea it was yours until I started playing it. Juno, it’s incredible! Everyone who’s heard it has been asking about it.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and I saw her eyes well up. She turned away quickly, trying to hide it, but I stepped around the counter and gently touched her arm.

“Hey,” I said, my voice low. “What’s going on?”

She wiped a tear from her face, letting out a shaky laugh. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“How about with the truth?” I offered.

She nodded, exhaling deeply before meeting my gaze. “I took the trip to Earth to meet with a record label. I poured everything into this album, Rex. Every late night, every ounce of myself. I thought… I thought this was my shot.”

“And?” I could already guess where this was going.

“They said no.” Her voice cracked, and she quickly looked away, her shoulders shaking. “They said it wasn’t market material. That it didn’t fit into their… their mold.”

I felt anger rise in me, but I kept it in check. “Juno, that album is phenomenal. You’ve created something real, something that connects with people. Don’t let a bunch of suits tell you otherwise.”

She shook her head, her voice barely a whisper. “I just… I wanted it so badly, ya know. I wanted to share it with the world.”

“And you can,” I said firmly. “You already are. The people here - they’ve been listening to it. They love it. You don’t need a record label to tell you your music matters. It already does.”

She stared at me, her expression a mix of disbelief and hope. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” I said. “You’re Juno Vega, the queen of Vinyl Vortex, and you’ve got something that no one else has - your voice, your sound. Don’t let them take that from you.”

“But without a label…” she started, her voice faltering. “How do I get my music to people? That’s the only copy I have.”

Her words lingered in the air, and I felt a pang of helplessness. She was right - it wasn’t just about making the music; it was about sharing it. I opened my mouth to respond but couldn’t find the right words.

“I’ll figure something out,” I said finally, more to myself than to her.

She smiled faintly, letting out a soft laugh. “You’re really something, Rex.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” I said with a grin, trying to lighten the moment.

I don't need to explain this picture, yes, I intended to write that.

As the evening wound down, we sat at a table in the food court, talking late into the night. By the time we parted ways, Juno’s spirits seemed lighter, but my mind was heavy with thoughts. As I walked back to my ship, her question played over and over in my head: How do I get my music to people?

The idea hit me as I stepped into my workshop. My eyes landed on my workbench, and I thought about the equipment I used to smelt and craft Moon Credits. I learned how to smelt Moon Credits from scratch, why couldn’t I learn to cut a record? Maybe… just maybe, I could set up a recording studio. I didn’t know much about producing music, in fact, I don’t know anything, but who’s to say you can’t learn something new. And Juno? She already had the talent.

The decision felt right. I’d do it - for her. I’d figure out what I needed to bring her music to life and make sure the world heard it.

So, I sat at my computer for the night, her words still echoing in my head. One by one, I started pressing "order" on the different pieces of equipment I thought I needed, not fully understanding what this was going to take. But one thing was certain—I wasn’t about to let her music fade away.

Entry 6 - Burn

Credit for the Arcade - 1,985 Moon Credit

Misc. Meals at the Mall - 50,000 Moon Credits

New Computer, Recording Software, Mixer, Near Field Monitors - 7,250,000 Moon Credits

Entry 6

Entry 7

Entry 5