10
Selene laughed, and the sound was metallic in Denison’s earpiece. Her figure was lost in the spacesuit she wore.
She said, “Now come, Ben, there’s no reason to be afraid. You’re an old hand by now—you’ve been here a month.”
“Twenty-eight days,” mumbled Denison. He felt smothered in his own suit.
“A month,” insisted Selene. “It was well past half-Earth when you came; it is well past half-Earth now.” She pointed to the brilliant curve of the Earth in the southern sky.
“Well, but wait. I’m not as brave out here as I am underground. What if I fall?”
“What if you do? The gravity is weak by your standards, the slope is gentle, your suit is strong. If you fall, just let yourself slide and roll. It’s almost as much fun that way, anyhow.”
Denison looked about doubtfully. The Moon lay beautiful in the cold light of the Earth. It was black and white; a mild and delicate white as compared with the Sunlit views he had seen when he had taken a trip a week before to inspect the Solar batteries that stretched from horizon to horizon along the floor of Mare Imbrium. And the black was somehow softer, too, through lack of the blazing contrast of true day. The stars were supernally bright and the Earth—the Earth—was infinitely inviting with its swirls of white on blue, and its peeping glimpse of tan.
“Well,” he said, “do you mind if I hang on to you?”
“Of course not. And we won’t go all the way up. It will be the beginner’s slope for you. Just try to keep in time with me. I’ll move slowly.”
Her steps were long, slow, and swinging, and he tried to keep in synchronization. The up-sloping ground beneath them was dusty and, with each step he kicked up a fine powder that settled quickly in the airlessness. He matched her stride for stride, but with an effort.
“Good,” said Selene, her arm locked in his, steadying him. “You’re very good for an Earthie—no, I ought to say Immie—”
“Thank you.”
“That’s not much better, I suppose. Immie for Immigrant is as insulting as Earthie for Earthman. Shall I just say you’re simply very good for a man your age.”
“No! That’s much worse.” Denison was gasping a little and he could feel his forehead moistening.
Selene said, “Each time you reach the point where you’re about to put your foot down, give a little push with your other foot. That will lengthen your stride and make it all the easier. No, no—watch me.”
Denison paused thankfully and watched Selene, somehow slim and graceful despite the grotesquerie of the suit once she moved, take off into low, loping leaps. She returned and knelt at his feet.
“Now you take a slow step, Ben, and I’ll hit your foot when I want it to shove.”
They tried several times, and Denison said, “That’s worse than running on Earth. I better rest.”.
“All right. It’s just that your muscles aren’t used to the proper coordination. It’s yourself you’re fighting, you know, not gravity.... Well, sit down and catch your breath. I won’t take you up much farther.”
Denison said, “Will I do any damage to the pack if I lie down on my back?”
“No; of course not, but it’s not a good idea. Not on the bare ground. It’s only at 120 degrees absolute; 150 degrees below zero, if you prefer, and the smaller the area of contact the better. I’d sit down.”
“All right.” Gingerly, Denison sat down with a grunt. Deliberately, he faced northward, away from the Earth. “Look at those stars!”
Selene sat facing him, at right angles. He could see her face now and then, dimly through the faceplate, when the Earthlight caught it at the proper angle.
She said, “Don’t you see the stars on Earth?”
“Not like this. Even when there are no clouds, the air on Earth absorbs some of the light. Temperature differences in the atmosphere make them twinkle, and city lights, even distant city lights, wash them out.”
“Sounds disgusting.”
“Do you like it out here, Selene? On the surface?”
“I’m not crazy about it really, but I don’t mind it too much, now and then. It’s part of my job to bring tourists out here, of course.”
“And now you have to do it for me.”
“Can’t I convince you it’s not the same thing at all, Ben? We’ve got a set route for the tourists. It’s very tame, very uninteresting. You don’t think we’d take them out here to the slide, do you? This is for Lunarites—and Immies. Mostly Immies, actually.”
“It can’t be very popular. There’s no one here but ourselves.”
“Oh, well. There are particular days for this sort of thing. You should see this place on race days. You wouldn’t like it then, though.”
“I’m not sure I like it now. Is gliding a sport for Immies, particularly?”
“Rather. Lunarites don’t like the surface generally.”
“How about Dr. Neville?”
“You mean, how he feels about the surface?”
“Yes.”
“Frankly, I don’t think he’s ever been up here. He’s a real city boy. Why do you ask?”
“Well, when I asked permission to go along on the routine servicing of the Solar batteries, he was perfectly willing to have me go, but he wouldn’t go himself. I rather asked him to, I think, so I could have someone answer my questions, if there were any, and his refusal was rather strong.”
“I hope there was someone else to answer your questions.”
“Oh, yes. He was an Immie, too, come to think of it. Maybe that explains Dr. Neville’s attitude toward the Electron Pump.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well—” Denison leaned back and kicked his legs up alternately, watching them rise and fall slowly with a certain lazy pleasure. “Hey, that’s not bad. Look, Selene— What I mean is that Neville is so intent on developing a Pump Station on the Moon when the Solar batteries are so adequate for the job. We couldn’t use Solar batteries on the Earth, where the Sun is never as unfailing, as prolonged, as bright, as radiant in all wave lengths. There’s not a single planetary body in the Solar system, no body of any size, that is more suitable for the use of the batteries than the Moon is. Even Mercury is too hot.—But the use does tie you to the surface, and if you don’t like the surface—”
Selene rose to her feet suddenly, and said, “All right, Ben, you’ve rested enough. Up! Up!”
He struggled to his feet and said, “A Pump Station, however, would mean that no Lunarite would ever have to come out on the surface, if he didn’t want to.”
“Uphill we go, Ben. Well go to that ridge up ahead. See it, where the Earthlight cuts off in a horizontal line?”
They made their way up the final stretch silently. Denison was aware of the smoother area to their side; a wide swathe of slope from which most of the dust had been brushed.
“That’s too smooth for a beginner to work up,” Selene said, answering his thoughts. “Don’t get too ambitious or you’ll want me to teach you the kangaroo-hop next.”
She made a kangaroo-hop as she spoke, turned about face almost before landing, and said, “Right here. Sit down and I’ll adjust—”
Denison did, facing downhill. He looked down the slope uncertainly. “Can you really glide on it?”
“Of course. The gravity is weaker on the Moon than on the Earth, so you press against the ground much less strongly, and that means there is much less friction. Everything is more slippery on the Moon than on the Earth. That’s why the floors in our corridors and apartments seemed unfinished to you. Would you like to hear me give my little lecture on the subject? The one I give the tourists?”