Jed Cochrane to be as the through the night over the city. The at two thousand feet, where to toward it from the which were streets. There were lights and people everywhere, and Cochrane himself that he was no than else, only he'd been trying to keep from it. He looked at the trees and on the roof-tops, and at a that was going on one of the buildings. All were recreation-spaces nowadays. They were the only available. When you looked at a city like this, you had thoughts. Fourteen people in this city. Ten in that. Eight in another and ten in another still, and twelve in yet another ... Big cities. Swarming millions of people, all anxious—so Cochrane bitterly—all about their jobs and them.
"Even as me and I," said Cochrane to himself. "Sure! I'm in my shoes right along with the of them!"
But it to that he'd been himself. He'd he was important. Important, at least, to the of Kursten, Kasten, Hopkins and Fallowe. But right now he was on the way—like a common legman—to take the moon-rocket to Lunar City, and he'd been of it just thirty minutes ago. Then he'd been told to to the rocket-port right away. His and two men and a were taking the same rocket. He'd his from Dr. William Holden on the way.
A part of his mind said indignantly, "Wait till I Hopkins on the phone! It was a mixup! He wouldn't send me off with the Dikkipatti Hour on me! He's not that crazy!" But he was on his way[Pg 6] to the space-port, regardless. He'd when the message him. He'd that he had to talk to Hopkins in person he any such instructions. But he was on his way to the space-port. He was in a helicab, and he was making in his own mind to the he foresaw. There were three of in his mind. One had a cynicism, and one that he couldn't be as as his implied, and the third the other two as the with over the dark of the city and the lights of the rooftops.
There was a thin sound, high aloft. Cochrane his back. The all the firmament, but he what to look for. He upward.
One of the brighter. He didn't know when he it out, but he when he'd it. He his on it. It was a very white star, and for a space of minutes it in no wise different from its fellows. But it brighter. Presently it was very bright. It was than Sirius. In more it was than Venus. It more and more in its brilliance. It the object in all the the moon, and the cold of its light was than any part of that. Then Cochrane see that this star was not round. He the quarter-mile-long of the rocket-blast.
It came with a rush. He saw the vertical, pencil of light earthward. It as it plunged, with all the above the city by its glare. The space-port itself clearly. Cochrane saw the buildings, and the other moon-rockets waiting to take off in an hour or less.
The white the ground and splashed. It spread out in a wide of brightness. The of the ship which still the as it settled into the of its own making.
Then the light out. The cut off abruptly. There was only a where the space-port had been for a little while. That faded—and Cochrane aware of the enormous[Pg 7] stillness. He had not noticed the rocket's until it ended.
The almost silently, with only the of its overhead making any at all.
"I myself about those rockets, too," said Cochrane to himself. "I to the moon meant starting to the stars. New worlds to live on. I had a more fun I out the of life!"
But he that this and this came out of the to the that still was a mistake. He'd orders which him about his to the and to the to which he'd years of his life. It to out that he was just another man, just another expendable. Most people against making the discovery, and some succeeded in it. But Cochrane saw his own self-deceptions with a as he to keep them. He did not himself at all.
The to toward the space-port buildings. The sky was full of stars. The earth—of course—was with buildings. Except for the space-port there was no ground for thirty miles in any direction. The was to a thousand feet. To five hundred. Cochrane saw the just-arrived with tender-vehicles to and and around it. He saw the he should take, on the field.
The touched ground. Cochrane up and paid the fare. He got out and the rose four or five and over to the waiting-line.
He into the space-port building. He himself more still. Then he Bill Holden—Doctor William Holden—standing against a wall.
"I you've got some orders for me, Bill," said Cochrane sardonically. "And just what help can I give you?"
Holden said tiredly:
"I don't like this any than you do, Jed. I'm to death of space-travel. But go your ticket and I'll tell you about it on the way up. It's a special production job. I'm in on it too."
"Happy holiday!" said Cochrane, Holden looked about as as a man look.[Pg 8]
He to the ticket desk. He gave his name. On request, he produced identification. Then he said sourly:
"While you're on this I'll make a phone-call."
He to a pay visiphone. And again there were different of in his mind—one and cynical, and one at the of his unimportance, and the third the others an spectacle.
He put the call through with an over-elaborate which he as an attempt to himself. He got the office. He said calmly:
"This is Jed Cochrane. I asked for a with Mr. Hopkins."
He had a on the phone-screen. She looked at and said pleasantly:
"Oh, yes. Mr. Hopkins is at dinner. He said he couldn't be disturbed, but for you to go on to the moon according to your instructions, Mr. Cochrane."
Cochrane up and raged, with one part of his mind. Another part—and he it—began to argue that after all, he had wait there was any to him. After all, his orders must have been with consideration. The third part the other two parts intensely—one for without to speak, and one for trying to for not raging. He to the ticket-desk. The said heartily:
"Here you are! The of your party's already on board, Mr. Cochrane. You'd hurry! Take-off's in five minutes."
Holden joined him. They through the gate and got into the tender-vehicle that would them out to the rocket. Holden said heavily:
"I was waiting for you and you wouldn't come. I'm not a good traveller, Jed."
The small vehicle rushed. To a city man, the dark of the space-port was astounding. Then a metal the tender-truck, and them. The vehicle stopped. An them and an through the night, toward the stars. A of with a out across emptiness. Cochrane it, and himself at the of a the rocket's passenger-compartment. A looked at the tickets. She the way up, and stopped.[Pg 9]
"This is your seat, Mr. Cochrane," she said professionally. "I'll you in this time. You'll do it later."
Cochrane in a contour-chair with an eight-inch of rubber. The straps. He bitter, thoughts. A voice said:
"Mr. Cochrane!"
He his head. There was Babs Deane, his secretary, with her very bright. She him from a contour-chair opposite his. She said happily:
"Mr. West and Mr. Jamison are the science men, Mr. Cochrane. I got Mr. Bell as the writer."
"A great triumph!" Cochrane told her. "Did you any idea what all this is about? Why we're going up?"
"No," Babs cheerfully. "I haven't the least idea. But I'm going to the moon! It's the most thing that to me!"
Cochrane his shoulders. Shrugging was not in the that him. Babs was a good secretary. She was the only one Cochrane had had who did not try to make use of her position as to the of the Dikkipatti Hour on television. Other had used their to him to acting or dancing or on other and shows. As a they just four public they were at desks, for use by their taste of fame. But Babs hadn't that. Yet she'd jumped at a for a to the moon.
A up toward the nose of the rocket—the upper end of this compartment—glowed suddenly. Flaming red said, "Take-off, ninety seconds."
Cochrane an in the that and technology had his possible. Heroes had into the Earth's atmosphere. Uncountable millions of had been spent. Enormous and pains had been to making possible a of two hundred thirty-six thousand miles through nothingness. This was the most of science—the of a of Earth and the of a city there.
And for what? Undoubtedly so that one Jed Cochrane be ordered by telephone, by somebody's secretary, to go and on a passenger-rocket and to the moon. Go—having failed to make a his boss[Pg 10] wouldn't dinner to listen—so he keep his job by obeying. For this purpose, scientists had and men had their lives.
Of course, Cochrane himself with justice, of there was the very great value of moon-mail to of philately. There was the value of the to who that much money for something to about afterward. There were the solar-heat mines—running at a loss—and other achievements. There was a in Lunar City where one cost the of—say—a week's pay for a like Babs. And—
The its red sign. It said: "Take-off forty-five seconds."
Somewhere a door closed with a soft definiteness. The of the still. The was oppressive. It was dead. Then there came the of very many electric fans, up the air.
The stewardess' voice came matter-of-factly from him in the which was the passenger-space.
"We take off in forty-five seconds. You will very heavy. There is no to be alarmed. If you that is oppressive, the of the air in this ship is well above earth-level, and you will not need to breathe so deeply. Simply in your chair. Everything has been of. Everything has been repeatedly. You need not at all. Simply relax."
Silence. Two heart-beats. Three.
There was a roar. It was a deep, booming, that came from the rocket's hull. Simultaneously, something Cochrane into the foam-cushions of his contour-chair. He the up on all of his so that it him. It the of his arms and and to out and sidewise, to spread him in a thin over the chair in which he rested.
He his back. He was of the weight of objects in his pockets. His pressed hard against his backbone. His were[Pg 11] those of someone being a hard, all over his body.
It was so a sensation, though he'd read about it, that he still and submitted to it. Presently he himself gasp. Presently, again, he noticed that one of his was going to sleep. He to move it and succeeded only in it feebly. The on and on and on....
The red in the said: "First stage ends in five seconds."
By the time he'd read it, the and stopped. Then he a of panic. He was falling! He had no weight! It was the of a a hundred times multiplied. He out of the in the foam-cushion. He was from away only by the that him.
There was a and a series of jerks. Then he had weight again as once more. This was not the impact of the take-off, but still it was weight—considerably weight than the normal weight of Earth. Cochrane the that had gone to sleep. Pins and their as returned to it. He was able to move his arms and hands. They heavy, and he an and weariness. He wanted to go to sleep.
This was the second-stage rocket-phase. The moon-rocket had off at six until clear of and a little more. Acceleration-chairs of design, plus the pre-saturation of one's blood with oxygen, so high an safe and not for the necessary length of time it lasted. Now, at three gravities, one did not on the end of a thrust, but one did out and spent. Most people through the six-gravity stage and to sleep under three gravities.
Cochrane the of fatigue. He had not liked himself for the orders that had him here. They had been in that he had no personal which not be to orders from the of a he had actually seen. He a of self-contempt which it would have been to in three-gravity[Pg 12] sleep. But he and himself to the of himself and his actions.
The red light said: "Second stage ends ten seconds."
And in ten the once more and were silent, and there was that of free fall, but he himself think of it as of dropping—which was the fact, too—and waited until the third-stage and on and on and on.
This was nearly normal acceleration; the of this was the of nearly normal weight. He about as one would in Earth in a contour-chair so that one the ceiling. He where the ship would be by this time, and it ought to have been a thrill. Cochrane was hundreds of miles above Earth and out and up. If a port were open at this height, his should continents.
No.... The ship had taken off at night. It would still be in Earth's shadow. There would be nothing at all to be below, unless one or two small of light which would be Earth's too-many great cities. But overhead there would be by and myriads, of every possible color and of brightness. They would each other for room in which to shine. The rocket-ship was out and out and up and up, to keep its with the space platform.
The platform, of course, was that of Earth which was four thousand miles out and around the in a little over four hours, traveling from west to east. It had been to the of Earth's was in fuel—when a ship had to slowly to avoid to cargo. The space was a station in emptiness, at which the moon-rocket would for its next and longer and much less difficult of two hundred thirty-odd thousand miles.
The came up the ramp, moving briskly. She stopped and at each in each chair in turn. When Cochrane his open upon her, she said soothingly:
"There's no need to be disturbed. Everything is going perfectly."[Pg 13]
"I'm not disturbed," said Cochrane. "I'm not nervous. I'm perfectly all right."
"But you should be drowsy!" she observed, concerned. "Most people are. If you you'll for it."
She his in a manner. It was normal.
"Take my for me," said Cochrane, "or put it in stock. I don't want it. I'm perfectly all right."
She him carefully. She was pretty. But her manner was detached. She said:
"There's a button. You can it if you need anything. You may call me by pushing it."
He shrugged. He still as she on to the other passengers. There was nothing to do and nothing to see. Travellers were much like parcels, these days. Travel, like television and most of the other of life, was designed for the seventy-to-ninety-per-cent of the and and be learned by surveys. Anybody who didn't like what liked, or didn't like reacted, was to annoyances. Cochrane himself to them.
The red light-letters again, later. This time they said: "Free flight, thirty seconds."
They did not say "free fall," which was the term for a or in space. But Cochrane himself, and his stomach-muscles were when the stopped again and off. The of began. An his chair to speak. There were other such each other passenger-chair, and the of the with a soft which was like recitation.
"The of you now experience," said the voice soothingly, "is natural at this stage of your flight. The ship has its maximum speed and is still to meet the space platform. You may that we have left and its behind. Now we have spread of and on a wind of pure toward our destination. The of is perfectly normal. You will be in the space platform. We will it in something over two hours of free flight. It is an satellite, with an air-lock our ship will enter for refueling. You will be able to the ship and move about[Pg 14] the Platform, to if you choose, to and them and to view Earth from a of four thousand miles through quartz-glass windows. Then, as now, you will no of weight. You will be taken on a of the space if you wish. There are rest-rooms—."
Cochrane the of the lecture. He to himself: "I'm a audience without an in the production tricks."
Presently he saw Bill Holden's head. The had the that him, and now was about the rocket. His was greenish.
"I you're to me," Cochrane told him, "on the way up. Do you want to tell me now what all this is about? I'd like a narrative, with gestures."
Holden said sickly:
"Go to hell, won't you?"
His disappeared. Space-nausea was, of course, as an as seasickness. It came from no weight. But Cochrane to be immune. He his mind to the possible purposes of his journey. He nothing at all. His own personal in the of Kursten, Kasten, Hopkins and Fallowe—the biggest agency in the world—was the production of the Dikkipatti Hour, top-talent television show, every Wednesday night eight-thirty and nine-thirty o'clock U. S. time. It was a good show. It was among the ten most popular on three continents. It was not that he be ordered to it and take orders from a psychiatrist, one he'd for years. But there was not much, these days, that sense.
In a world where with populations of less than five millions were small towns, were peculiar. One of the results of in a world over-supplied with was that there were too many people and not jobs. When one had a good job, and somebody higher up than gave an order, it was obeyed. There was always somebody else or waiting for every job there was—hoping for it, maybe praying for it. And if a good job was lost, one had to start all over.
This might be anything. It was not, however, connected[Pg 15] in any way with the production of the Dikkipatti Hour. And if that production were this week Cochrane was away, he would be the one to take the in reputation. The that he was on the moon wouldn't count. It would be that he was slipping. And a was not good. It was definitely not good!
"I do a right now," Cochrane told himself angrily, "titled 'Man-afraid-of-his-job.' I make a very production. I've got the material!"
He weight for a moment. It was by noises. The were not in the air outside, there was no air. They were of the rocket-motors themselves, to the of the ship. The ship's steering-rockets were the of the and—yes, there was another of power—nudging it to a more line of to meet the space up from behind. The around the world six times a day, four thousand miles out. During three of its on the ground, anywhere, spot it in as an star, to be against the sky's blueness, in the west and to set at the place of sunrise.
There was again weightlessness. A rocket-ship doesn't its rocket-engines all the time. It them to started, and it them to stop, but it not them to travel. This ship was above the Earth, which might be a the the rocket, or might be a as of the Pit. Cochrane had of time, but not of the of being from the job he and important, to travel to do something he had no idea of. He felt, in his mind, like somebody who stairs in the dark and to take a step that isn't there. It was a to that his work wasn't in the of Kursten, Kasten, Hopkins and Fallowe. That he didn't count. That nothing ...
There was another and another touch of weight. Then the on endlessly.
A long time later, something touched the ship's hull. It was a definite, positive sound. And then there was the and of tuggings, and Cochrane the ship being maneuvered. He it[Pg 16] had with the space and was being its lock.
There was still no weight. The to the one by one, each with magnetic-soled slippers. Cochrane her in their use. He the air-lock was being with air from the huge, platform. In time the door at the back—bottom—base of the passenger-compartment opened. Somebody said flatly:
"Space platform! The ship will be in this air-lock for some three hours plus for refueling. Warning will be departure. Passengers have the of the and will be every possible privilege."
The magnetic-soled did one's to the ramp, but one had to on to a hand-rail to make progress. On the way to the door, Cochrane Babs. She said breathlessly:
"I can't I'm here!"
"I can it," said Cochrane, "without it particularly. Babs, who told you to come on this trip? Where'd all the orders come from?"
"Mr. Hopkins' secretary," said Babs happily. "She didn't tell me to come. I managed that! She said for me to name two science men and two who work with you. I told her one was more than for any production job, but you'd need me. I it was a production job. So she the orders and here I am!"
"Fine!" said Cochrane. His of the deepened. He'd he was an executive and important. But somebody higher up than he was had of him with absent-minded finality, and that man's and his own had all the details, and he didn't count at all. He was a in the hands of firm-partners and secretaries. "Let me know what my job's to be and how to do it, Babs."
Babs nodded. She didn't catch the sarcasm. But she couldn't think very straight, just now. She was on the space platform, which was the second most spot in the universe. The most spot, of course, was the moon.
Cochrane into the platform, having no weight whatever. He was able to move only by the of his magnetic-soled to the floor-plates him. Or—were they beneath?[Pg 17] There was a walking on a which ought to be a directly over Cochrane's head. He opened a door in a side-wall and in, still down. Cochrane a dizziness, at that.
But he on, using hand-grips. Then he saw Dr. William Holden looking and and trying to answer questions from West and Jamison and Bell, who had been from their private just as Cochrane had and were now of Bill Holden that he what had to them.
Cochrane angrily:
"Leave the man alone! He's space-sick! If you him too much this place will be a mess!"
Holden closed his and said gratefully:
"Shoo them away, Jed, and then come back."
Cochrane his hands at them. They away, and on to each other in the dream-likeness and of no-weight-whatever. There were other from the moon-rocket in this great space of the platform. There was a woman looking at the picture of a weighing-scale painted on the wall. Somebody had painted it, with a dial-hand pointing to zero pounds. A said, "Honest weight, no gravity." There was the from the rocket, off here. She a cigarette in the blast of an electric fan. There was a party of moon-tourists and at and to to Earth.
"All right, Bill," said Cochrane. "They're gone. Now tell me why all the not in the of Kursten, Kasten, Hopkins and Fallowe, in my person, has been and sent up to the moon?"
Bill Holden swallowed. He up with his closed, onto a side-rail in the great room of the platform.
"I have to keep my shut," he explained, queasily. "It makes me to see people walking on side-walls and across ceilings."
A was doing that at the moment. If one walk at all with magnetic-soled shoes, one walk everywhere. The man did walk up the side-wall. He onto the ceiling, where he was head-down to the of his party. He there looking up—down—at them, and he a[Pg 18] and half-frightened and grin. His wife for him to come down: that she couldn't looking at him so.
"All right," said Cochrane. "You're your closed. But I'm to take orders from you. What of orders are you going to give?"
"I'm not sure yet," said Holden thinly. "We are sent up here on a private job for Hopkins—one of your bosses. Hopkins has a daughter. She's married to a man named Dabney. He's neurotic. He's a great scientific and it isn't properly appreciated. So you and I and your team of scientists—we're on our way to the Moon to save his reason."
"Why save his reason?" asked Cochrane cynically. "If it makes him happy to be a crackpot—"
"It doesn't," said Holden, with his still closed. He gulped. "Your job and a large part of my on him out of a looney-bin. It to a public-relations job, a production, with me that might be for Dabney's psyche. Otherwise he'll be frustrated."
"Aren't we all?" Cochrane. "Who in he think he is? Most of us want appreciation, but we have to be when we do our work and paid for it! We—"
Then he bitterly. He had been taken off the job he'd years learning to do acceptably, to a personal for the son-in-law of one of the partners of the he for. It was to be a who be ordered to perform personal services for his boss, without to the to the work he was for. It was more to know he had to do it he couldn't not to.
Babs appeared, over the that she was walking in magnetic-soled on the of the space platform. Her were very bright. She said:
"Mr. Cochrane, hadn't you come look at Earth out of the Earthside windows?"
"Why?" Cochrane bitterly. "If it wasn't that I'd have to onto something with hands, in order to do it, I'd be kicking myself. Why should I want to do stuff?"
"So," said Babs, "so later on you can tell when a writer[Pg 19] or a to put something over on you in a space show."
Cochrane grimaced.
"In theory, I should. But do you what all this is about? I just learned!" When Babs her he said sardonically, "We are on the way to the Moon to stage a private production out of cruelty. We're to a happy man of the luxury of sorry for himself. We're under Holden's orders to a man of being a crackpot!"
Babs listened. She was too much with the of being where she'd to be able to go.
"I wouldn't want to be of being a crackpot," Cochrane, "if only I such a luxury! I'd—"
Babs said urgently:
"You'll have to hurry, really! They told me it in ten minutes, so I came to you right away."
"What starts?"
"We're in now," Babs, starry-eyed. "We're in the Earth's shadow. In about five minutes we'll be out into again, and we'll see the new Earth!"
"Guarantee that it will be a new Earth," Cochrane said morosely, "and I'll come. I didn't do too well on the old one."
But he her in all the of walking on magnetic-soled shoes in a total of gravity. It was a job to start off. Without precaution, if he to away from where he was, his would walk out from under him and he'd be left on his in mid-air. Again, to stop without one out ahead for a would that after his paused, his would continue and he would a full-length face-down flop. And besides, one not walk with a regular up-and-down motion, or in he would his in complete futility.
Cochrane to walk, and then took a hand-rail and himself along it, with his him like the of a mermaid. He of the and was not by his own dignity.
Presently Babs herself in what was a metal in the skin of the platform. There was a window, the of steel-plate[Pg 20] it. Babs pushed a marked "Shutter," and the of back.
Cochrane blinked, out of his by the him.
He saw the of the heavens, with stars. Some were than others, and they were of every color. Tiny of tint—through the Earth's they would into an luminosity—appeared so close together that there no possible interval. However the of a gap, one had but to look at it for an to of fire there, also.
Each was a sun. But that was not what Cochrane catch his breath.
There was a space of his eyes. It was and and near. It was black with the of the Pit. It was Earth, from its eight-thousand-mile-wide shadow, by the Moon. There was no from its darkness. It was as if, in the of the of the heavens, there was a through which one the nothing from which was called in the beginning. Until one that this was the dark of Earth, the was one of hair-raising horror.
After a moment Cochrane said with a voice:
"My most opinions of Earth were as black as this!"
"Wait," said Babs confidently.
Cochrane waited. He had to in his mind that this visible abyss, this of purest dark, was not an opening into but was Earth at night as from space.
Then he saw a faint, of color at its edge. It spread swiftly. Immediately, it seemed, there was a line among the stars. It was red. It was very, very bright. It a complete half-circle. It was the light of the sun around the of the world.
Within minutes—it in seconds—the line of light was a among the stars. And then, very swiftly, the which was the sun appeared from Earth. It was bright, but it did not brighten[Pg 21] the firmament. It among all the of of suns, and in a terrible silence, with visibly from the of its disk. Cochrane at it with light-dazzled eyes.
Then Babs softly:
"Beautiful! Oh, beautiful!"
And Cochrane his and saw the world new-born him. The of light an and then a crescent, and as he looked. Dawn the space platform, and it that and and clouds and over the of him.
He here, staring, until the slowly closed. Babs said in regret:
"You have to keep your hand on the to keep the open. Else the window might with dust."
Cochrane said cynically:
"And how much good will it have done me to see that, Babs? How can that be in a studio—and how much would a television screen of it?"
He away. Then he added sourly:
"You and look if you like, Babs. I've already had my to little bits. If I look at that again I'll want to in pure I can't do anything as well watching. I to cut my of the to a size. But you go ahead and look!"
He to Holden. Holden was himself into the rocket-ship. Cochrane with him. They returned, weightless, to the designed contour-chairs in which they had to this place, and in which they would travel farther. Cochrane settled to at the above him. He had been by the of one of the of an agency. He himself resenting, as he experienced, the which had been upon him by the itself.
Presently the other returned, and the was out of the lock and to again, and again presently and there was of weight. But it was not as as the take-off from Earth.
There some ninety-six hours of pure tedium. After the blasts, the were silent.[Pg 22] There was no weight. There was nothing to the of electric fans, the air so that from be by the dehumidifiers. But for them—if the air had been left stagnant—the would have been insupportable.
There was nothing to see, opening on space were not safe for to look through. Mere humans, to keep their minds on matters, at the of the universe. There be no activity.
Some of the took dozy-pills. Cochrane did not. It was against the law for dozy-pills to produce a of euphoria, of well-being. The law that might lead to addiction. But if a a person drowsy, so that he for hours sleeping and awake, no appeared to be done. Yet there were of dozy-pill addicts. Many people were not to good. They were satisfied not to anything at all.
Cochrane couldn't take that way of escape. He in his chair and of many things. He came to unclean, as people used to when they for days on end on trains. There was no possibility of a bath. One not clothes, to the moon in a freight-rocket, which was and than a transport, but would kill who to it. Fifteen-and twenty-gravity is of fuel, and six-gravity is not, but nobody can live through a twenty-gravity lift-off from Earth. So in the in which they entered the ship, and the only possible to was the one and to in the rest-rooms.
Babs Deane did not take dozy-pills either, but Cochrane than to be more than with her of office hours. He did not want to give her any to tell him anything for his own good. So he spoke and company only with his own thoughts. But he did notice that she looked and starry-eyed through the long and hours of free flight. She was the through the void. She'd know when the of Earth were plain to see, and the of on the two hemispheres—northern[Pg 23] and southern—and she'd know when Earth's ice-caps be seen, and why.
The was not too much of a diversion. She was and and soothing, but she a to too near the chairs in which her rode. Presently Cochrane and a television commercial. In it, a moon-rocket stewardess, in and looking fresh and charming, would say that she without for days at a time on moon-trips, and did not she used whoosit's antistinkum. And then he of the that would roll did such a actually on the air.
But he didn't make plans for the production-job he'd been sent to the moon to do. Psychiatry was specialized, these days, as physical medicine had been it. An had been sent to the moon to Dabney's reflexes, and he'd and Dr. Holden for the treatment. Frustration was the of the rich, anyhow, and Bill Holden had in its cure. His main was on the making of a production about his patient, which was and to have him a quick reputation. But he couldn't tell Cochrane what was of him. Not yet. He the but not the case. He'd have to see and know Dabney he make use of the extra-special production-crew his patient's father-in-law had provided from the staff of Kursten, Kasten, Hopkins and Fallowe.
Ninety-some hours after blast-off from the space platform, the rocket-ship end for end and to blast to kill its toward the moon. It at half-gravity—the red gave of it—and rose to one and then to two. After days of no-weight, two was punishing.
Cochrane to look at Babs. She was rapt, in of what must be the ship, which she not see. She'd be what the television screens had often enough, from film-tapes. The great marked of Luna, with its ring-mountains in numbers and complexity, and the open "seas" which were of lava, would be clear to her mind's eye. She would be the of the moon's with nearness, when the appear.[Pg 24] From a all the moon or in tint. When one comes closer, there are and slate-colors in the mountain-cliffs, and and yellows, and there is the ashy, whitish-tan color of the moondust.
Glancing at her, in her satisfaction, Cochrane that with only an she would to him how the hundreds of in the surface-temperature of the moon midnight and and re-split and so that as as every space not too for it to on.
The of increased. For part of a second they had the of three gravities.
Then there was a curious, jar—really very slight—and then the of weight ended altogether. But not the of weight. They still had weight. It was constant. It was steady. But it was very slight.
They were on the moon, but Cochrane no elation. In the hours from the space he'd too much. He was actually aware of the and most men had to from themselves they couldn't treatments. Frustration was the of all humanity, these days. And there was nothing that be done about it. Nothing! It wasn't possible to rebel, and is the by which and is cured. But one not against the plain that Earth had more people on it than one support.
Merely at the moon did not an useful achievement, either to Cochrane or to at large.
Things looked bad.
[Pg 25]
