In his thirty-ninth sleepless hour on the Moon, Carlo Bonifacio shoved the last collection bag into place in the lander and felt the headache behind his eyes sharpen. The European Space Agency, in its low-budget return to the Moon, had sent one astronaut armed with stimulants to keep him awake while his suited monkey hands scraped and chipped and scooped better than any machine. But an astronaut got tired.
Carlo looked out the lander’s hatch at the lunar landscape, but his vision blurred. He cursed silently, squeezed his eyes shut, and opened them again. No change. Call Mission Control. “Kourou, my vision is blurry.”
Pause. “Take another stimulant.”
Mars, Earth, and Other Fine Planets 