With the door locked behind her, Jo said, Allan, I need a drink.
I'll join you.
Jo cut her shopping short; it was too tiring. By four o'clock they were driving in Central Park, enjoying fall scenery to the lazy clop-clop of horse's hoofs. The helicopters, the pigeons, the streak in the sky where the Antipodes rocket had passed, made a scene idyllic in beauty and serenity. Jo swallowed a lump in her throat and whispered, Allan, isn't it beautiful?
Sure is. It's great to be back. Say, did you notice they've torn up 42nd Street again?
Back in their room, Jo collapsed on her bed, while Allan took off his shoes. He sat, rubbing his feet, and remarked, I'm going barefooted all evening. Golly, how my feet hurt!
So do mine. But we're going to your father's, my sweet.
Huh? Oh, damn, I forgot. Jo, whatever possessed you? Call him up and postpone it. We're still half dead from the trip.
But, Allan, he's invited a lot of your friends.
Balls of fire and cold mush! I haven't any real friends in New York. Make it next week.
'Next week'...h'm'm...look, Allan, let's go out to the country right away. Jo's parents had left her a tiny place in Connecticut, a worn-out farm.
I thought you wanted a couple of weeks of plays and music first. Why the sudden change?
I'll show you. She went to the window, open since noon. Look at that window sill. She drew their initials in the grime. Allan, this city is filthy .
You can't expect ten million people not to kick up dust.
But we're breathing that stuff into our lungs. What's happened to the smog-control laws?
That's not smog; that's normal city dirt.
Luna City was never like this. I could wear a white outfit there till I got tired of it. One wouldn't last a day here.
Manhattan doesn't have a roof and precipitrons in every air duct.
Well, it should have. I either freeze or suffocate.
I thought you were anxious to feel rain on your face?
Don't be tiresome. I want it out in the clean, green country.
Okay. I want to start my book anyhow. I'll call your real estate agent.
I called him this morning. We can move in anytime; he started fixing up the place when he got my letter.
It was a stand-up supper at his father's home, though Jo sat down at once and let food be fetched. Allan wanted to sit down, but his status as guest of honor forced him to stay on his aching feet. His father buttonholed him at the buffet. Here, son, try this goose liver. It ought to go well after a diet of green cheese.
Allan agreed that it was good.
See here, son, you really ought to tell these folks about your trip.
No speeches, Dad. Let 'em read the National Geographic .
Nonsense! He turned around. Quiet, everybody! Allan is going to tell us how the Lunatics live.
Allan bit his lip. To be sure, the citizens of Luna City used the term to each other, but it did not sound the same here. Well, really, I haven't anything to say. Go on and eat.
You talk and we'll eat.
Tell us about Looney City.
Did you see the Man-in-the-Moon?
Go on, Allan, what's it like to live on the Moon?
Not 'on the Moon' in the Moon.
What's the difference?
Why, none, I guess. He hesitated; there was really no way to explain why the Moon colonists emphasized that they lived under the surface of the satellite planet but it irritated him the way Frisco irritates a San Franciscan. 'In the Moon' is the way we say it. We don't spend much time on the surface, except for the staff at Richardson Observatory, and the prospectors, and so forth. The living quarters are underground, naturally.
Why 'naturally'? Afraid of meteors?
No more than you are afraid of lightning. We go underground for insulation against heat and cold and as support for pressure sealing. Both are cheaper and easier underground. The soil is easy to work and the interstices act like vacuum in a thermos bottle. It is vacuum.
But Mr. MacRae, a serious-looking lady inquired, doesn't it hurt your ears to live under pressure?
Allan fanned the air. It's the same pressure here fifteen pounds.
She looked puzzled, then said, Yes, I suppose so, but it is a little hard to imagine. I think it would terrify me to be sealed up in a cave. Suppose you had a blow-out?
Holding fifteen pounds pressure is no problem; engineers work in thousands of pounds per square inch. Anyhow, Luna City is compartmented like a ship. It's safe enough. The Dutch live behind dikes; down in Mississippi they have levees. Subways, ocean liners, aircraft they're all artificial ways of living. Luna City seems strange just because it's far away.
She shivered. It scares me.
A pretentious little man pushed his way forward. Mr. MacRae granted that it is nice for science and all that, why should taxpayers' money be wasted on a colony on the Moon?
You seem to have answered yourself, Allan told him slowly.
Then how do you justify it? Tell me that, sir.
It isn't necessary to justify it; the Lunar corporations are all paying propositions. Artemis Mines, Spaceways, Spaceways Provisioning Corporation, Diana Recreations, Electronics Research Company, Lunar Biological Labs, not to mention all of Rutherford look 'em up. I'll admit the Cosmic Research Project nicks the taxpayer a little, since it's a joint enterprise of the Harriman Foundation and the government.
Then you admit it. It's the principle of the thing.
Allan's feet were hurting him very badly indeed. What principle? Historically, research has always paid off. He turned his back and looked for some more goose liver.
A man touched him on the arm; Allan recognized an old schoolmate. Allan, old boy, congratulations on the way you ticked off old Beetle. He's been needing it I think he's some sort of a radical.
Allan grinned. I shouldn't have lost my temper.
A good job you did. Say, Allan, I'm going to take a couple of out-of-town buyers around to the hot spots tomorrow night. Come along.
Thanks a lot, but we're going out in the country.
Oh, you can't afford to miss this party. After all, you've been buried on the Moon; you owe yourself some relaxation after that deadly monotony.
Allan felt his cheeks getting warm. Thanks just the same, but ever seen the Earth View Room in Hotel Moon Haven?
No. Plan to take the trip when I've made my pile, of course.
Well, there's a night club for you. Ever see a dancer leap thirty feet into the air and do slow rolls on the way down? Ever try a lunacy cocktail? Ever see a juggler work in low gravity? Jo caught his eye across the room. Er...excuse me, old man. My wife wants me.
He turned away, then flung back over his shoulder, Moon Haven itself isn't just a spaceman's dive, by the way it's recommended by the Duncan Hines Association.
Jo was very pale. Darling, you've got to get me out of here. I'm suffocating. I'm really ill.
Suits. They made their excuses.
Jo woke up with a stuffy cold, so they took a cab directly to her country place. There were low-lying clouds under them, but the weather was fine above. The sunshine and the drowsy beat of the rotors regained for them the joy of homecoming.
Allan broke the lazy reverie. Here's a funny thing, Jo. You couldn't hire me to go back to the Moon but last night I found myself defending the Loonies every time I opened my mouth.
She nodded. I know. Honest to Heaven, Allan, some people act as if the Earth were flat. Some of them don't really believe in anything, and some of them are so matter-of-fact that you know they don't really understand and I don't know which sort annoys me the more.
It was foggy when they landed, but the house was clean, the agent had laid a fire and had stocked the refrigerator. They were sipping hot punch and baking the weariness out of their bones within ten minutes after the copter grounded. This, said Allan, stretching, is all right. It really is great to be back.