As with the US government, NASA functions as a fully realized character, caught between its scientific mission and its dependence on political will. NASA must serve empirical truth and public optics as a publicly funded institution. The novel explores the complexities of this dual mandate, illustrating how an organization built for exploration and discovery struggles to maintain its integrity when the universe and its political ecosystem turn absurd.

Dr. Debra Dixon represents NASA’s scientific conscience. Often the agency’s spokesperson during press briefings, Dixon fields questions with careful, evidence-based statements while privately expressing profound discomfort with the moon’s transformation: “I hate it with every single bone in my body and I can’t think of any other explanation” (25). Her emotional honesty highlights how even the most rational minds cannot easily reconcile an event that defies the universe’s physical laws. Dixon embodies the institution’s core values of rigor, skepticism, and transparency, even as those values are tested by a situation science cannot explain.

Dr. Kevin Olsen, a senior NASA administrator, serves as the agency’s institutional spine. While Dixon articulates the crisis scientifically, Olsen must navigate its political and logistical fallout. Tasked with informing the public that the moon has transformed into cheese, Olsen understands both the scientific implausibility and the political necessity of framing the situation in controlled terms. He recruits astronauts LeMae Anderson and Davis Baruch to lend credibility to the announcement, aware that their public presence will help calm nerves. Olsen balances scientific transparency with institutional survival, knowing that continued funding depends on maintaining public trust and political favor.

This tension becomes especially evident when billionaire Jody Bannon hijacks the Diana moon mission. NASA, already under political pressure to keep Jody’s lander program alive, must retroactively frame his unsanctioned launch as part of the agency’s plan. Though outraged, Olsen tells his team that their job is now to keep Jody alive. NASA complies—not out of loyalty to Jody but because institutional collapse would follow if the agency appeared incompetent. In this moment, NASA compromises its scientific and procedural standards to preserve its funding and reputation. Olsen’s dynamic with President Boone further emphasizes this burden. When Olsen tries to explain the existential threat posed by Lunar One, Boone responds bluntly, “So you’re saying we’re doomed,” to which Olsen protests, “I didn’t say that.” Boone cuts him off: “Yes, you did, you just want to weasel out of it” (198). Olsen thus becomes a mouthpiece for unspeakable truth.

Astronauts LeMae and Davis represent the personal cost of these compromises. LeMae, the first in her family to graduate college, approaches the moon mission with integrity and composure. Though she occasionally deflects press questions, she maintains a clear-eyed honesty reflecting her scientific background. She navigates a career built on aspiration, only to watch it derail due to politics and media spectacle. Davis, chosen to lead the original Diana crew, voices the agency’s frustration: “There’s no reason an actual astronaut could not be on their way to moon right now […] It’s not fair. But it’s the world that we’ve made for ourselves, isn’t it. Or at least, the world that we let those who we elected decide was the one we should have” (169). His statement captures how those who dedicate their lives to scientific pursuits are often sidelined by those with wealth and influence.

NASA, then, becomes a case study in institutional compromise. It must pursue its scientific objectives, such as studying the new lunar composition and predicting the trajectory of Lunar One, while constantly reshaping its messaging to ensure political survival. The naming of the cheese moon as “Caseus” and the original moon as “Luna” after its return illustrates the agency’s attempt to impose scientific order on cosmic chaos. Through precise language and ongoing data collection, NASA continues its mission, even when its authority is undermined by conspiracy theories, political spin, and public disbelief.

Dayton Bailey and Aubrey Stewart offer a dichotomy: One represents the pursuit of scientific curiosity and wonder, while the other embodies the demands of capitalism and professional pragmatism. Dayton, an associate professor at the Colorado School of Mines, writes a book analyzing the scientific plausibility of space-themed media. As a whimsical inclusion, he adds a chapter about the moon turning into cheese. When this improbable event becomes a reality and official institutions offer no coherent explanation, the public turns to Dayton as an unlikely authority.

Although Dayton lacks the academic prestige of NASA scientists—he holds no doctorate and teaches at a lesser-known institution—he upholds the spirit of scientific inquiry. His calm insistence that the moon’s transformation must be explainable, even if it is not currently understood, positions him as the intellectual and emotional anchor of the novel. Dayton’s refusal to offer false certainty and commitment to exploration allow him to bridge the gap between public panic and institutional paralysis.

Dayton’s literary agent, Aubrey, operates from an entirely different register. Sharply practical and market driven, Aubrey views Dayton’s work primarily through its commercial viability. She represents an economic logic that is less concerned with truth than timing, audience, and sales. However, even Aubrey experiences a profound emotional shift during the White House Eclipse Event. Initially skeptical of the entire spectacle, she finds herself moved to tears during totality: “This is just about the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen” (304), she admits, as she realizes that it will likely be the last eclipse she will witness. Her awe, however, quickly transforms into rage when Luna returns, reversing the crisis. Her fury encapsulates the emotional whiplash caused by abrupt shifts in truth and certainty: Even pragmatic people feel betrayed when authority fails to offer stability. 

Dayton and Aubrey illustrate how individuals adapt to crisis through different lenses: science and commerce, wonder and control. However, both ultimately experience the same existential vertigo when confronted with the universe’s indifference. Their arc demonstrates that no matter how one engages with the world, everyone must grapple with uncertainty, and no system offers total refuge when reality turns surreal.

Jody serves as one of the primary antagonistic forces in the novel by embodying the reckless entitlement of unchecked wealth. As the billionaire head of PanGlobal Aerospace, Jody spends years orchestrating a personal moon landing, not for science but to satisfy a long-held desire to step onto the lunar surface without enduring the grueling demands of astronaut training. Lacking the physical and mental discipline required for spaceflight, Jody instead buys an aerospace company, bids on a government lunar program, and develops a lander capable of piloting itself. His moonshot is not a triumph of innovation but a vanity project disguised as progress.

When the moon transforms into cheese, Jody refuses to cancel his plans, partly to avoid severe financial repercussions but also because he remains too stubborn to abandon his long-standing desire to land on the moon. Despite scientific protests and altered mission parameters, he hijacks the Diana mission by stowing away disguised as an HMS bot. This act of audacity forces NASA and the US government to reframe the event as intentional rather than admitting that a billionaire with more ambition than sense outmaneuvered them. His death on the moon becomes a cultural moment: He is not mourned but widely made into a meme.

Jody’s personal life reflects the same instability. He lives what he calls a “land-free lifestyle,” which he frames as minimalist freedom but is the result of his second wife’s divorce settlement stripping him of real estate. He lives in a PanGlobal-funded penthouse and requires his money manager, Byron, to script his interactions with Congress after he “sexually importuned a United States senator” (60).

Jody dies chasing relevance, spectacle, and legacy. He represents the dangers of ego-driven leadership and how power inevitably implodes when decoupled from responsibility.

Science fiction often portrays religion as either outdated or antagonistic to progress. However, When the Moon Hits Your Eye offers a more nuanced depiction through Meadow Hill Church, an evangelical institution that reveals the flaws and virtues of organized faith.

The church operates as a family-run institution led by Pastor James Evans, his wife, Abby; his brother, Bobby; and his sister-in-law, Chrissy. James, once a self-described “closet stoner and public meathead” (84), stepped into the role of pastor after the previous one refused COVID-19 vaccinations. Despite his unconventional path and undiagnosed dyslexia, James has become “a surprisingly good pastor” (84). Most of the congregation believes that Abby writes his sermons, and while James often attempts to write his own (with Abby’s editing), he suffers from severe writer’s block under stress. To manage, the church subscribes to PreachDex, a digital service that supplies sermons, songs, and lesson plans.

Though the novel satirizes the automation of religious practice through tools like PreachDex, it also emphasizes the authenticity of James’s spiritual leadership. His best qualities are his compassion and attentiveness to others. When a distressed congregant, Caleb Talbot, interrupts a sermon and calls it “crap,” James abandons the prepared text and speaks candidly, asserting that while people cannot choose their death, it is how they live that defines them. This moment highlights his emotional intelligence and willingness to meet his community where they are, even amid an existential crisis.

James’s evening prayers reveal another layer of complexity. He admits privately to God that he also struggles with faith, requesting a sign to affirm his belief. Still, he commits to supporting his congregation, understanding that faith, like leadership, is often maintained in the absence of certainty.

The Meadow Hill Church thrives because its leadership operates collaboratively. Abby supports James and helps shape his message; Chrissy runs the Sunday School program and voices concerns about growing superstitions, particularly the idea that the moon’s transformation is the devil’s work. Rather than dismissing her, James takes her seriously: “We still have a lot of praying to do over this, but we’re not doing anyone any favors by letting people indulge in their fears” (86). His response shows a balance between spiritual openness and pastoral responsibility.

In a world unraveling from inexplicable catastrophe, Meadow Hill Church is an example of stability and empathy. The church does not offer theological certainty, but it models emotional resilience, collective problem-solving, and the quiet power of shared community—something many characters in the novel desperately need.

The Fromagery and DemocraCheese illustrate how the mundane and absurd coexist during crises. These two rival cheese shops, run by feuding brothers Jack and Ted Hubbard, serve as a humorous yet meaningful subplot within When the Moon Hits Your Eye. When the moon transforms into cheese, business at both shops unexpectedly triples, forcing them to hire additional help to meet demand. Jack and his wife, Phyllis, hire Annette Li, a practical and hardworking college student who needs income. Ted brings on Felix Collier, a former astronomy doctoral candidate whose academic path derailed after the moon’s transformation upended his worldview.

Annette and Felix’s budding romance becomes a quiet counterpoint to the chaos surrounding them. As Felix struggles to cope with the collapse of scientific certainty, Annette encourages him to focus on the tangible aspects of life, like love, work, and human connection. Their relationship emphasizes how personal bonds can offer grounding when the world feels unmoored. As an added twist, their love story mirrors one of the movie pitches that Hannah Leventhal, a Hollywood producer, dismisses earlier in the novel: two people falling in love as the moon waxes and wanes (similar to Moonstruck). What was once rejected as cliché becomes a sincere thread of hope and intimacy in the novel’s landscape of absurdity.

The cheese shops, with their sibling rivalry and neighborhood squabbles, also illustrate the persistence of everyday concerns in the face of existential dread. Even as society faces the potential end of the world, the feud between Jack and Ted continues until a moment of reckoning arrives. When a “Flip Off the Moon” protest organized by University of Wisconsin students threatens to spill into violence, Jack rushes to defend Ted’s shop. Armed with a baseball bat, he confronts the crowd, not out of loyalty to cheese but out of love for his brother.

This moment reaffirms one of the novel’s central themes: In the face of absurd catastrophe, it is not grand solutions that matter most but the small, human acts of solidarity, love, and grace.