You stick with me. I've got a friend on the desk at the Commodore. He led them to the Concourse slidewalk and thence to the hotel.
They were too weary to dine out; Allan had dinner sent to their room. Afterward, Jo fell asleep in a hot tub and he had trouble getting her out she liked the support the water gave her. But he persuaded her that a rubber-foam mattress was nearly as good. They got to sleep very early.
She woke up, struggling, about four in the morning. Allan. Allan!
Huh? What's the matter? His hand fumbled at the light switch.
Uh...nothing I guess. I dreamed I was back in the ship. The jets had run away with her. Allan, what makes it so stuffy in here? I've got a splitting headache.
Huh? It can't be stuffy. This joint is air-conditioned. He sniffed the air. I've got a headache, too, he admitted.
Well, do something. Open a window.
He stumbled out of bed, shivered when the outer air hit him, and hurried back under the covers. He was wondering whether he could get to sleep with the roar of the city pouring in through the window when his wife spoke again. Allan?
Yes. What is it?
Honey, I'm cold. May I crawl in with you?
Sure.
The sunlight streamed in the window, warm and mellow. When it touched his eyes, he woke and found his wife awake beside him. She sighed and snuggled. Oh, darling, look! Blue sky we're home. I'd forgotten how lovely it is.
It's great to be back, all right. How do you feel?
Much better. How are you?
Okay, I guess. He pushed off the covers.
Jo squealed and jerked them back. Don't do that!
Huh?
Mamma's great big boy is going to climb out and close that window while mamma stays here under the covers.
Well all right. He could walk more easily than the night before but it was good to get back into bed. Once there, he faced the telephone and shouted at it, Service!
Order, please, it answered in a sweet contralto.
Orange juice and coffee for two extra coffee six eggs, scrambled medium, and whole-wheat toast. And send up a Times , and the Saturday Evening Post .
Ten minutes.
Thank you. The delivery cupboard buzzed while he was shaving. He answered it and served Jo breakfast in bed. Breakfast over, he laid down his newspaper and said, Can you pull your nose out of that magazine?
Glad to. The darn thing is too big and heavy to hold.
Why don't you have the stat edition mailed to you from Luna City? Wouldn't cost more than eight or nine times as much.
Don't be silly. What's on your mind?
How about climbing out of that frowsty little nest and going with me to shop for clothes?
Unh-uh. No, I am not going outdoors in a moonsuit.
'Fraid of being stared at? Getting prudish in your old age?
No, me lord, I simply refuse to expose myself to the outer air in six ounces of nylon and a pair of sandals. I want some warm clothes first. She squirmed further down under the covers.
The Perfect Pioneer Woman. Going to have fitters sent up?
We can't afford that. Look you're going anyway. But me just any old rag so long as it's warm.
MacRae looked stubborn. I've tried shopping for you before.
Just this once please. Run over to Saks and pick out a street dress in a blue wool jersey, size ten. And a pair of nylons.
Well all right.
That's a lamb. I won't be loafing. I've a list as long as your arm of people I've promised to call up, look up, have lunch with.
He attended to his own shopping first; his sensible shorts and singlet seemed as warm as a straw hat in a snow storm. It was not really cold and was quite balmy in the sun, but it seemed cold to a man used to a never-failing seventy-two degrees. He tried to stay underground, or stuck to the roofed-over section of Fifth Avenue.
He suspected that the salesman had outfitted him in clothes that made him look like a yokel. But they were warm. They were also heavy; they added to the pain across his chest and made him walk even more unsteadily. He wondered how long it would be before he got his ground-legs. A motherly saleswoman took care of Jo's order and sold him a warm cape for her as well. He headed back, stumbling under his packages, and trying futilely to flag a ground-taxi. Everyone seemed in such a hurry! Once he was nearly knocked down by a teen-aged boy who said, Watch it, Gramps! and rushed off, before he could answer.
He got back, aching all over and thinking about a hot bath. He did not get it; Jo had a visitor. Mrs. Appleby, my husband Allan, this is Emma Grail's mother.
Oh, how do you do, Doctor or should it be 'Professor'?
Mister
when I heard you were in town I just couldn't wait to hear all about my poor darling. How is she? Is she thin? Does she look well? These modern girls I've told her time and again that she must get out of doors I walk in the Park every day and look at me. She sent me a picture I have it here somewhere; at least I think I have and she doesn't look a bit well, undernourished. Those synthetic foods
She doesn't eat synthetic foods, Mrs. Appleby.
must be quite impossible, I'm sure, not to mention the taste. What were you saying?
Your daughter doesn't live on synthetic foods, Allan repeated. Fresh fruits and vegetables are one thing we have almost too much of in Luna City. The air-conditioning plant, you know.
That's just what I was saying. I confess I don't see just how you get food out of air-conditioning machinery on the Moon
In the Moon, Mrs. Appleby.
but it can't be healthy. Our air-conditioner at home is always breaking down and making the most horrible smells simply unbearable, my dears you'd think they could build a simple little thing like an air-conditioner so that though of course if you expect them to manufacture synthetic foods as well
Mrs. Appleby
Yes, Doctor? What were you saying? Don't let me
Mrs. Appleby, MacRae said desperately, the air-conditioning plant in Luna City is a hydroponic farm, tanks of growing plants, green things. The plants take the carbon dioxide out of the air and put oxygen back in.
But Are you quite sure, Doctor? I'm sure Emma said
Quite sure.
Well...I don't pretend to understand these things, I'm the artistic type. Poor Herbert often said Herbert was Emma's father; simply wrapped up in his engineering though I always saw to it that he heard good music and saw the reviews of the best books. Emma takes after her father, I'm afraid I do wish she would give up that silly work she is in. Hardly the sort of work for a woman, do you think, Mrs. MacRae? All those atoms and neuters and things floating around in the air. I read all about it in the Science Made Simple column in the
She's quite good at it and she seems to like it.
Well, yes, I suppose. That's the important thing, to be happy at what you are doing no matter how silly it is. But I worry about the child buried away from civilization, no one of her own sort to talk to, no theaters, no cultural life, no society
Luna City has stereo transcriptions of every successful Broadway play. Jo's voice had a slight edge.
Oh! Really? But it's not just going to the theater, my dear; it's the society of gentlefolk. Now when I was a girl, my parents
Allan butted in, loudly. One o'clock. Have you had lunch, my dear?
Mrs. Appleby sat up with a jerk. Oh, heavenly days! I simply must fly. My dress designer such a tyrant, but a genius; I must give you her address. It's been charming, my dears, and I can't thank you too much for telling me all about my poor darling. I do wish she would be sensible like you two; she knows I'm always ready to make a home for her and her husband, for that matter. Now do come and see me, often. I love to talk to people who've been on the Moon
In the Moon.
It makes me feel closer to my darling. Good-by, then.