The Gods Themselves (26 page)

"Yes, he is not yet famous. And probably never will be; chiefly for the same reason I'll never be. He crossed Hal-lam, . . . His name came up recently and I've been giving him some thought It was one way of occupying the sleepless portion of last night." And he yawned.

Neville said, impatiently, "Yes, Doctor? What of this man? What is his name?"

"Peter Lamont. He has some interesting thoughts on para-theory. He believes that with continued use of the Pump, the strong nuclear interaction will grow basically more intense in the space of the Solar system and that the Sun will slowly heat up and, at some crucial point, undergo a phase-change that will produce an explosion."

"Nonsense! Do you know the amount of change produced, on a cosmic scale, of any use of the Pump on a human scale? Even granted that you are only self-educated in physics, you ought have no difficulty in seeing that the Pump can't possibly make any appreciable change in general Universal conditions during the lifetime of the Solar system."

"Do you think so?"

"Of course. Don't you?" said Neville.

"I'm not sure. Lament's grinding a personal axe. I've met him briefly and he impressed me as an intense and very emotional fellow. Considering what Hallam has done to him, he is probably driven by overwhelming anger."

Neville frowned. He said, "Are you sure he is on the outs with Hallam?"

"I'm an expert on the subject"

"It doesn't occur to you that the initiation of that kind of doubt—that the Pump is dangerous—might be used as but another device to keep the Moon from developing Stations of its own?"

"At the cost of creating universal alarm and despondency? Of course not. That would be cracking walnuts with nuclear explosions. No, I'm sure Lament is sincere. In fact, in my own bumbling way, I had similar notions once."

"Because you, too, are driven by hate for Hallam."

"I'm not Lamont. I imagine I don't react the same way he does. In fact, I had some dim hope I would be able to investigate the matter on the Moon, without Hallam's interference and without Lament's emotionalism."

"Here on the Moon?"

"Here on the Moon. I thought perhaps I might get the use of the synchrotron."

"And that was your interest in it?"

Denison nodded.

Neville said, "You really think you will get the use of the synchrotron? Do you know how far back the requisitions have piled up?"

"I thought perhaps I might get the cooperation of some of the Lunar scientists."

Neville laughed and shook his head. "We have almost as little chance as you. . . . However, I'll tell you what we can do. We have established laboratories of our own. We can give you space; we might even have some minor instrumentation for you. How useful our facilities would be to you, I can't say, but you might be able to do something."

"Do you suppose I would have any means there of making observations useful to para-theory?"

"It would depend partly on your ingenuity, I suppose. Do you expect to prove the theories of this man, Lamont?"

"Or disprove them. Perhaps."

"You'll disprove them, if anything at all. I have no fears about that."

Denison said, "It's quite clear, isn't it, that I'm not a physicist by training? Why do you so readily offer me working-space?"

"Because you're from Earth. I told you that we value that, and perhaps your self-education as a physicist will be of additional value. Selene vouches for you, something I attach more importance to than I should, perhaps. And we are fellow-sufferers at the hands of Hallam. If you wish to rehabilitate yourself, we will help you."

"But pardon me if I am cynical. What do you expect to get out of it?"

"Your help. There is a certain amount of misunderstanding between the scientists of the Earth and the Moon. You are a man of Earth who has come voluntarily to the Moon and you could act as a bridge between us to the benefit of both. You have already had contact with the new Commissioner and it may be possible that, as you rehabilitate yourself, you will rehabilitate us as well."

"You mean that if what I do weakens Hallam's influence, that will benefit Lunar science as well."

"Whatever you do is sure to be useful. . . . But perhaps I ought to leave you to catch up with your sleep. Call on me during the next couple of days and I will see about placing you in a laboratory. And"—he looked about— "getting you somewhat more comfortable quarters as well."

They shook hands and Neville left.

8

Gottstein said, "I suppose that, however annoying this position of yours may have been, you are getting ready to leave it today with a small pang."

Montez shrugged eloquently. "A very large pang, when I think of the return to full gravity. The difficulty of breathing—the aching feet—the perspiration. I'll be a bath of perspiration constantly."

"It will be my turn someday,"

"Take my advice. Never stay here longer than two months at a time. I don't care what the doctors tell you or what kind of isometric exercises they put you through— get back to Earth every sixty days and stay at least a week. You've got to keep the feel of it."

"I'll bear that in mind. .. . Oh, I've been in touch with my friend."

"Which friend is that?"

"The man who was on the vessel with me when I came in. I thought I remembered him and I did. A man named Denison; a radiochemist. What I remembered of him was accurate enough."

"Ah?"

"I remembered a certain interesting irrationality of his, and tried to probe it. He resisted in quite a shrewd fashion. He sounded rational; so rational, in fact, that I grew suspicious. There's a kind of attractive rationality developed by certain types of crackpots; a kind of defense mechanism."

"Oh, Lord," said Montez, clearly harassed. "I'm not sure I follow you. If you don't mind, I'm going to sit down for a moment. Between trying to determine whether everything is properly packed and thinking about Earth's gravity, I'm out of breath.... What kind of irrationality?"

"He tried to tell us once that there was danger in the use of the Electron Pumps. He thought it would blow up the Universe."

"Indeed? And will it?"

"I hope not. At the time it was dismissed rather brusquely. When scientists work on a subject at the limit of understanding, they grow edgy, you know. I knew a psychiatrist once who called it the 'Who knows?' phenomenon. If nothing you do will give you the knowledge you need, you end by saying, 'Who knows what will happen?' and imagination tells you."

"Yes, but if physicists go around saying such things, even a few of them—"

"But they don't. Not officially. There's such a thing as scientific responsibility and the journals are careful not to print nonsense. ... Or what they consider nonsense. Actually, you know, the subject's come up again. A physicist named Lament spoke to Senator Hurt, to that self-appointed environmental messiah, Chen, and to a few others. He also insists on the possibility of cosmic explosion. No one believes him but the story spreads in a thin sort of way and gets better with the retelling."

"And this man here on the Moon believes it."

Gottstein smiled broadly. "I suspect he does. Hell, in the middle of the night, when I have trouble sleeping—I keep falling out of bed, by the way—I believe it myself. He probably hopes to test the theory experimentally, here."

"Well?"

"Well, let him. I hinted we would help him."

Montez shook his head. "That's" risky. I don't like the official encouragement of crackpot notions."

"You know, it's just barely possible they may not be entirely crackpot, but that's not the point. The point is that if we can get him established here on the Moon, we may find out, through him, what's going on here. He's anxious for rehabilitation and I hinted that rehabilitation would come through us if he cooperated. . . . I'll see to it that you are discreetly kept posted. As between friends, you know."

"Thank you," said Montez. "And good-by."

9

Neville chafed. "No. I don't like him."

"Why not? Because he's an Earthie?" Selene brushed a bit of fluff from her right breast, then caught it and looked at it critically. "That's not from my blouse. I tell you the air-recirculation is abominable."

"This Denison is worthless. He is not a para-physicist. He's a self-educated man in the field, he says, and proves it by coming here with ready-made damn-fool notions."

"Like what?"

"He thinks that the Electron Pump is going to explode the Universe."

"Did he say that?"

"I know he thinks that. . . . Oh, I know the arguments. I've heard them often enough. But it's not so, that's all."

"Maybe," said Selene, raising her eyebrows, "you just don't want it to be so."

"Don’t
you
start," said Neville.

There was a short pause. Selene said, "Well, what will you do with him?"

"I'll give him a place to work. He may be worthless as a scientist, but he'll have his uses just the same. He'll be conspicuous enough; the Commissioner has been talking to him already."

"I know."

"Well, he has a romantic history as someone with a wrecked career trying to rehabilitate himself."

"Really?"

"Really. I'm sure you'll love it. If you ask him about it, he'll tell you. And that's good. If we have a romantic Earthman working on the Moon on a crackpot project, he'll make a perfect object to preoccupy the Commissioner. He'll be misdirection; window-dressing. And it may even be that through him, who knows, we might just possibly get a better idea of what goes on there on Earth. .. . You'd better continue to be friendly with him, Selene."

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 supernaturally 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?"

"No, Selene."

"Besides, we're going to use gliders, of course." She had a small cartridge in her hand. Clamps and a pair of thin tubes were attached to it.

"What is that?" asked Ben.

"Just a small liquid-gas reservoir. It will emit a jet of vapor just under your boots. The thin gas layer between boots and ground will reduce friction to virtually zero. You'll move as though you were in clear space."

Denison said uneasily. "I disapprove. Surely, it's wasteful to use gas in this fashion on the Moon."

"Oh, now. What gas do you think we use in these gliders? Carbon dioxide? Oxygen? This is waste gas to begin with. It's argon. It comes out of the Moon's soil in ton-lots, formed by the billions of years of breakdown of po-tassium-40. . . . That's part of my lecture, too, Ben. . . . The argon has only a few specialized uses on the Moon. We could use it for gliding for a million years without exhausting the supply. ... All right. Your gliders are on, Now wait till I put mine on."

"How do they work?"

"It's quite automatic. You just start sliding and that will trip the contact and start the vapor. You've only got a few minutes supply; but that's all you'll need."

She stood up and helped him to his feet. "Face downhill. ... Come on, Ben, this is a gentle slope. Look at it. It looks perfectly level."

"No, it doesn't," said Denison, sulkily. "It looks like a cliff to me."

"Nonsense. Now listen to me and remember what I told you. Keep your feet about six inches apart and one just a few inches ahead of the other. It doesn't matter which one is ahead. Keep your knees bent. Don't lean into the wind because there isn't any. Don't try to look up or back, but you can look from side to side if you have to. Most of all, when you finally hit level, don't try to stop too soon; you'll be going faster than you think. Just let the glider expire and then friction will bring you to a slow halt."