I could understand that. It's kind of like the music of Stravinsky or Coltrane or Hendrix. The first time you hear it, it doesn't make sense. You have to learn how to listen to it. Eventually, you have to accept it for what it is, not for what you think it should be.
And now I could see that the moon is like that too. It is what it is.
Everything is different than what you're used to. Not wrong, different.The sky, the light, the horizon, even the shapes of rocks. Even the way the ground rolls away is different. Everything.Uncompromising. Scary. Harsh. Hostile. Beautiful. Wunderstorm …
"Luna to Charles, Luna to Charles. Come in, Charles … ?"
"Huh?" I turned around. The unreality of everything was getting s more intense, not less. Mickey was already out of the inflatable airlock; he was standing in his own two‑meter bubble, helping Douglas through the exit tube. Stinky was a big inert bulge on Douglas's back. Douglas unzipped the third zipper and puffed out into the Lunar vacuum like a big piece of popcorn. He didn't go bouncing across the ground like I did–Mickey caught him head‑on, and they bounced back only a meter.
Alexei was the last one out of the balloon. He puffed up, but he didn't bounce at all. Obviously, he'd had a lot of experience. He hop‑skipped around to where the airlock was still connected to the cargo pod and began zipping shut the seals of the connection tube.
"What's Alexei doing?" I asked.
"I am disconnecting airlock," he called.
"But why? What if we have to get back in the pod?"
"We are not coming back to pod. It won't be here anyway. But if we did need to reenter, is another airlock package here by outside hatch." He slapped the hull of the pod.
Alexei pushed the bubble up against the cargo hull to force as much air into the main part of the inflatable as he could, collapsing and sealing each section of the tube in turn. When the tube was folded back into itself and all three connections were secure, he turned to the hatch of the cargo pod. He reached up and down at the same time and grabbed two levers matching the ones on the inside of the pod. He yanked them sideways and the slot in the hatch ring widened, releasing its grip on the circular ring of the airlock.
Then he worked the ring loose carefully. Once it was clear, he pushed it up against the wall of the inflatable, securing it with Velcro patches. The airlock sat alone on the barren Lunar soil, a big bulbous blob of air–like a single drop of water perched on a waxy leaf. We didn't have to worry about it blowing away, of course, but the ground wasn't very level, and if it started rolling downhill, it might start bouncing, and it coiuld go quite a distance. It might even rip or puncture.
But Alexei turned around, grinning. "Who wants to hold leash? Charles? Is good job for you, da?"
"Huh?"
"We take airlock with us. You never know when you might need a roomful of air. Waste not, want not, da?"
I was beginning to hate that. I wanted to waste something, just for spite.
He bounded over to me in that peculiar Lunar hop‑skip of his. He trailed a length of flat ribbon, which he slapped onto one of the Velcro pads on the outside of my bubble suit. "There. You will bring plastic house. Is everybody ready to go? Hokay, we practice Luna walk. Pay attention, dingalings. Bounce on balls of feet like this, da?Not too high. Cannot walk in bubble, have to hop‑skip, have to bounce. Looks easy, da?Is not. Is tricky. Alternate feet–bounce on one, bounce on other–hop‑skip. No, Charles–keep hands in gloves. Helps keep bubble upside up. See bottom side? Extra thick–heavy on bottom to keep bottom side down. Bounce on padding, less risk to rip or puncture. Hold bubble upright by keeping hands in front gloves and bounce, hop‑skip–watch, now!"
He came bounding toward me. He looked like a silver beetle trapped inside a glass onion. But he made very good time, bouncing and skipping across the dark silvery dust.
"You will learn quickly. But try not to fall down. You don't want to dust your bubble."
"Why not?"
"Because then everybody will know you are clumsy dingaling. They will know you are just arrive here." He turned away to see how Douglas and Mickey were doing. "Yes, just like that," he called. They were bouncing slightly on the balls of their feet, testing their weight in the soft Lunar gravity. They moved in slow motion–almost like dancers. I thought of Tchaikovsky and the "Waltz of the Flowers."No, the other one–the "Waltz of the Snowflakes."Only these snowflakes were silvery and danced inside giant transparent Christmas tree ornaments. We must have looked very silly, but at the same time beautiful in a Lunar kind of way.
"All right, everybody ready? Let us go. Take small steps first. Get used to Lunatic‑walking. Learn to walk before learning to bounce. Follow me. Holler if I go too fast." He pointed southward and went bounding off. Douglas followed, little steps first, then as he felt more comfortable, he began taking bigger hops. Mickey looked back to me. "Come on, Charles–"
I took one last look at the bright blue marble of the Earth. It was directly behind us. And then I followed. The inflatable airlock came bouncing after me like an oversize balloon.
A WALK IN THE DARK
We didn't get very far–just to the top of the first hill. And it wasn't much of a hill. Alexei made us stop so he could check our re‑breathers and our air supplies again. We were all fine, but if any of us had needed personal attention, he would have taken us into the inflatable so he could open our bubbles. Even if we didn't have the inflatable with us, he could have still joined any two bubbles together at their openings. But nobody needed immediate attention, and I was glad about that.
Once that was finished, Alexei turned and faced the distant cargo pod. From here it looked pitifully small in a very large landscape. Despite the nearness of the horizon, once you gained a little height, the moon could be a very large place.
As Alexei had told us, there were no footprints leading away from the pod–just occasional soft dimples in the Lunar dust where we'd bounced along. A skilled tracker would be able to follow the trail of depressions, but only if the dust was thick enough and the shadows were right.
"Might want to shield eyes," Alexei said, and did something to his PITA.
"Huh? Why?" That was Douglas.
"Watch." He pointed.
In the distance, the cargo pod shuddered. It jerked upright–then a flare of dazzling white appeared underneath it, and the cargo pod lifted away from the gray plain.
"What are you doing, Alexei?"
"I hide the evidence." The bright flame of the pod sputtered in the sky and went out. "It will come down again, thirty or forty klicks west of here. In darkest shadow, very rough terrain, very uneven. Hard to find, harder to get to. When trackers come looking for pod, maybe they will look in wrong place first, lose valuable time, da?"
I couldn't see the pod anymore. Either the skin of the bubble was too blurry, or the pod was too dark, or the sky was too black. Without the flame, it was gone.
I wondered if we'd feel the crash, or if it would bounce down again. Either way … we were truly aloneon the moon now. I shuddered–and it wasn't just from the cold seeping up through my feet.
Mickey must have seen how scared I was. He took a half skip toward me, close enough to press his bubble against mine. He grabbed my hand and gave it a quick squeeze. Then he whispered, "Are you going to be okay, Charles?"
"Yes."
"You sure?"