In his long and storied career as America's least threatening leading man, Tom Hanks has revealed himself to be both a typewriter enthusiast and lover of desert boots— both perfect resumé points for a pitch at The New Yorker, which today debuted a new piece of short story fiction, written by #Hanx himself.

The story is entitled "Alan Bean Plus Four" and appears in the October 27th issue and online here. But The New Yorker knows how far behind you are on your New Yorkers, so it has also uploaded audio of the story, read to us by Tom Hanks in smooth and comforting fatherly tones. Listen here and read along as we recount our own tumble down the Hanks Hole.

0:11 "...as the four of us proved, not that anyone gives a whoop." Right away Tom Hanks proves he's just a regular ol' guy, that kind that writes things like "whoop," even in The New Yorker. Accolades and millions of dollars haven't rendered him abstruse.

1:10 "She says I’m always 'Apollo 13 this' and 'Lunokhod that,'..." Apollo 13, eh? Is that you, Tom? Are you giving yourself away as our kindly narrator already, one who took orders from Ed Harris at his most orange and inspirational?

3:30 "Mission Accomplished." The strangest inflection these two words have ever known. Tom Hanks is giggling, shrewdly, at the mic.

5:14 "He was paying the cashier, as anonymous as a balding orthopedist" Hope you're ready for an avalanche of irate letters from the American Academy of Orthopaedic Surgeons, Mr. Remnick. Trust us, you should NOT have fucked with these guys.

5:30 "Since four of us would be a-comin’ round the moon, I needed to make room inside the Alan Bean and eliminate pounds." There's that good-old-fashioned Hanks twang again, like a glass of cool sweet tea on a hot summer morn. T.HANKS, mister!

6:54 "Hell, choosing which of the four of us would get out first and become the thirteenth person to leave boot-prints up there would have led to so much bad blood that our crew would have broken up long before T minus ten seconds and counting." A very good sentence. Hats off to Hanks. The Man With One Red Shoe Has Published More Stories In The New Yorker Than You.

8:15 "We . . . were . . . fighting . . . for breath . . . with Anna . . . screaming . . . “'Get off . . . my chest!'" Amazingly this is less awkward to hear Hanks say than it is to read.

9:12 "Somewhere over Africa, we opened the valves in the translunar motor, the hypergolics worked their chemical magic, and—voosh—we were hauling the mail to Moonberry R.F.D". Screenwriters of the world please take notice of Hanks's mastery and bring us more voosh in 2015 and beyond.

9:58 "The Americans who went to the moon before us had computers so primitive that they couldn’t get e-mail or use Google to settle arguments. The iPads we took had something like seventy billion times the capacity of those Apollo-era dial-ups and were mucho handy, especially during all the downtime on our long haul. MDash used his to watch Season Four of “Breaking Bad.” We took hundreds of selfies with the Earth in the window and, plinking a Ping-Pong ball off the center seat, played a tableless table-tennis tournament, which was won by Anna." Hanks has revealed the true rhetorical goal of his story: a meditation on technology and the fractured state of presence in our present. Fraught with iPads, selfies, and other signifiers of modern life-as-online-performance, Hank's manuscript now unfurls as a carnival of digitized self-absorption set along the cosmos. His narrative recalls the anxieties of David Foster Wallace, updated for our modern LTE-speed living.

11:45 "When I tell people that I’ve seen the far side of the moon, they often say, “You mean the dark side,” as though I’d fallen under the spell of Darth Vader or Pink Floyd. In fact, both sides of the moon get the same amount of sunshine, just on different shifts." Did the guy from Bosom Buddies just teach us something about the universe?

12:46 "...a rugged place that produced oohs and awe." Those unfamiliar with the Hanks filmography may miss this deft allusion to the central location of Joe Versus the Volcano.

12:49 "The LunaTicket app ($.99) showed us traversing south to north, but we were mentally lost in space..." See what he did there? This is why Mr. Hanks is published in The New Yorker and you are not.

13:52 "Our brains could take in only so much, so our iPhones did the recording" [See fractured state of presence/David Foster Wallace analysis above]

14:42 "'The Circle of Life,' from 'The Lion King,' scored our home planet’s rise over the plaster-of-Paris moon." Tom Hanks is a wiseguy with a beautiful velvet voice.

15:47 "But questions arose about what we were going to do upon our return, apart from making some bitchin’ posts on Instagram." The world is a better place for this sentence. Memorize Hanks's exact inflection and, then, repeat "making some bitchin' posts on Instagram" whenever you're asked what your weekend plans are going to include. (One also begins to wonder how much of this story was ghostwritten by Hanks's son Chet?)

16:20 "We were arcing down over the Arctic Circle, gravity once again commanding that we who went up must come down." Cliche— consider changing—maybe something with a Bachelor Party reference.

16:48 "Band-Aids." Band-Aids is a brand, Tom. The proper term is adhesive strips. Name brand word association is one of the more subtle threats to this nation's free trade.

17:40 "Anna, thinking fast, held aloft our Apple products, but Steve Wong lost his Samsung (the Galaxy! Ha!)" Nice one, Hanksy.

18:25 "Yes, I told her, I had gone all the way to the moon and returned safely to the surly bonds of Earth. Just like Alan Bean.

“Who?” she said." A very nice ending, wonderfully spoken, yet the whole story is tragically marred by that cutesy button-quote at the close. But hey, this has been a Tom Hanks Production—what do you expect from The New Yorker, George Saunders?