The Gods Themselves
Chapter 18

3
There was no way of telling the Commissioner's quarters, by size alone, from those of any Lunarite. There was no space on the Moon, not even for Terrestrial officials; no luxurious waste, even as a symbol of the home planet. Nor, for that matter, was there any way of changing the overwhelming fact about the Moon - that it was underground at low gravity - even for the greatest Earthman who ever lived.
"Man is still the creature of his environment," sighed Luiz Montez. "I've been two years on the Moon and there have been times when I have been tempted to stay on but - I'm getting on in years. I've just passed my fortieth and if I intend ever to go back to Earth, it had better be now. Any older and I won't be able to readjust to full-gravity."
Konrad Gottstein was only thirty-four and looked, if anything, younger. He had a wide, round, large-featured face, the kind of face one didn't see among the Lunarites, the kind of face that was something they would draw as part of an Earthie caricature. He was not heavily-built - it did not pay to send heavily-built Earthmen to the Moon - and his head seemed too large for his body.
He said (and he spoke Planetary Standard with a perceptibly different accent from that of Montez), "You sound apologetic,"
"I am. I am," said Montez. Where Gottstein's face was intrinsically good-natured in appearance, the long thin lines of Montez' face were almost comically tragic. "I am apologetic in both senses. I am embarrassed to be leaving the Moon, since it is an attractive world filled with excitement. And I am embarrassed about the embarrassment; ashamed that I should be reluctant to take up Earth's
burden - gravity and all."
"Yes, I imagine taking back the other five-sixths will be hard," said Gottstein. "I've been on the Moon only a few days and already I feel that one-sixth g is perfectly fine."
"You won't feel that when the constipation starts and you start living on mineral oil," said Montez with a sigh, "but that will pass . . . And don't think you can imitate the light gazelle just because you feel light. There's an art to it."
"So I understand."
"So you think you understand, Gottstein. You haven't seen the kangaroo walk, have you?"
"On television."
"That doesn't really give you the feel of it. You have to try it. It's the proper mode for crossing level lunar surface at high speed. The feet move together backward and launch you on what would be a simple broad jump on Earth. While you're in mid-air, they come forward; begin moving back just before they hit the ground again; keep you launched; and so on. The motion seems slow by Earth standards with only a low gravity whipping you on, but each leap is in excess of twenty feet and the amount of muscular effort required to keep you in the air - if there were air - is minimal. The sensation is like flying - "
"Have you tried it? Can you do it?"
"I've tried it, but no Earthman can really do it. I've kept it up for as many as five leaps in a row, enough to get the sensation; just enough to want to do more, but then there is the inevitable miscalculation, a loss of synchronization, and you tumble and slide for a quarter of a mile. The Lunarites are polite and never laugh at you. Of course, it's easy for them. They start as children and pick it up at once without trouble."
"It's their world," said Gottstein, chuckling. "Think how they'd be on Earth."
"They wouldn't be on Earth. They can't. I suppose that's an advantage on our side. We can be either on Moon or on Earth, They can live only on the Moon. We tend to forget that because we confuse the Lunarites with Immies."
"With what?"
"That's what they call the Earth-immigrants; those who live on the Moon more or less permanently but were born and raised on the Earth. The immigrants can, of course, return to the Earth, but the real Lunarites have neither the bones nor the muscles to withstand the Earth's gravity. There were some tragedies in that respect in the Moon's early history."
"Oh?"
"Oh, yes. People who returned with their Moon-born children. We tend to forget. We've had our own Crisis and a-few dying children don't seem important in the light of the huge casualties of the late Twentieth and all that followed. Here on the Moon, though, every dead Lunarite who succumbed to the gravity of Earth is remembered. . . . It helps them feel a world apart, I think."
Gottstein said, "I thought I had been thoroughly briefed on Earth, but it seems I will still have a lot to learn."
"Impossible to learn everything about the Moon from a post on Earth, so I have left you a full report as my predecessor did for me. You'll find the Moon fascinating and, in some ways, excruciating. I doubt that you've eaten Lunar rations on Earth and if you're going by description only, you will not be prepared for the reality . . . But you'll have to learn to like it. It's bad policy to ship Earth-items here. We've got to eat and drink the local products."
"You've been doing it for two years. I guess I'll survive,"
"I've not been doing it steadily. There are periodic furloughs to Earth. Those are obligatory, whether you want them or not. They've told you that, I'm sure."
"Yes," said Gottstein.
"Despite any exercises you do here, you will have to subject yourself to full gravity now and then just to remind your bones and muscles what it's like. And when you're on Earth, you'll eat. And occasionally, some food is smuggled Gottstein said, "My luggage was carefully inspected, of course, but it turned out there was a can of corned beef in my coat pocket. I had overlooked it. So did they."
Montez smiled slowly and said, hesitantly, "I suspect you are now going to offer to share it."
"No," said Gottstein, judiciously, wrinkling his large button nose. "I was going to say with all the tragic nobility I could muster, 'Here, Montez, have it all! Thy need is greater than mine.' " He stumbled a bit in trying to say this, since he rarely used second person singular in Planetary Standard.
Montez smiled more broadly, and then let it vanish. He shook his head. "No. In a week, I'll have all the Earth-food I can eat. You won't. Your mouthfuls will be few in the next few years and you will spend too much time regretting your present generosity. You keep it all. . . . I insist. I would but be earning your hatred ex post facto."
He seemed serious, his hand on the other's shoulder, his eyes looking straight into Gottstein's. "Besides," he said, "there is something I want to talk to you about that I've been putting off because I don't know how to approach it and this food would be an excuse for further sidetracking."
Gottstein put away the Earth-can at once. There was no way in which his face could match the other's seriousness, but his voice was grave and steady, "Is there something you could not put into your dispatches, Montez?"
"There was something I tried to put in, Gottstein, but between my not knowing how to phrase it and Earth's reluctance to grasp my meaning, we ended up not communicating. You may do better. I hope you do. One of the reasons I have not asked to have my tour of duty extended is that I can no longer take the responsibility of my failure to communicate."
"You make it sound serious."
"I wish I could make it sound serious. Frankly, it sounds silly. There are only some ten thousand people in the Lunar colony. Rather less than half are native Lunarites. They're hampered by an insufficiency of resources, an insufficiency of space, a harsh world, and yet - and yet - "
"And yet?" said Gottstein, encouragingly.
"There is something going on here - I don't know exactly what - which may be dangerous."
"How can it be dangerous? What can they do? Make war against the Earth?" Gottstein's face trembled on the brink of a smile-crease.
"No, no. It's more subtle than that." Montez passed his hand over his face, rubbing his eyes petulantly. "Let me be frank with you. Earth has lost its nerve."
"What does that mean?"
"Well, what would you call it? Just about the time the Lunar colony was being established, Earth went through the Great Crisis. I don't have to tell you about that."'
"No, you don't," said Gottstein, with distaste.
"The population is two billion now from its six billion peak."
"Earth is much better for that, isn't it?"
"Oh, undoubtedly, though I wish there had been a better way of achieving the drop . . . But it's left behind a permanent distrust of technology; a vast inertia; a lack of desire to risk change because of the possible side-effects. Great and possibly dangerous efforts have been abandoned because the danger was feared more than greatness was desired."
"I take it you refer to the program on genetic engineering."
"That's the most spectacular case of course, but not the only one," said Montez, bitterly.
"Frankly, I can't get excited over the abandonment of genetic engineering. It was a tissue of failures."
"We lost our chance at intuitionism."
"There has never been any evidence that intuitionism is desirable, and considerable indications of its undesirability . . . Besides what about the Lunar colony itself? This certainly is no indication of stagnation on Earth."
"It is," said Montez, vigorously. "The Lunar colony is a hangover, a last remnant of the period before the Crisis; something that was carried through as a last sad forward
thrust of mankind before the great retreat."
"That's too dramatic, Montez,"
"I don't think so. The Earth has retreated. Mankind has retreated, everywhere but on the Moon. The Lunar colony is man's frontier not just physically, but psychologically, too. Here is a world that doesn't have a web of life to disrupt; that doesn't have a complex environment in delicate balance to upset. Everything on the Moon that is of any use to man is man-made. The Moon is a world constructed by man from the start and out of basics. There is no past."
"Well?"
"On Earth, we are unmanned by our longing for a pastoral past that never really existed; and that, if it had existed, could never exist again. In some respects, much of the ecology was disrupted in the Crisis and we are making do with the remnants so that we are frightened, always frightened . . . On the Moon, there is no past to long for or dream about. There is no direction but forward."
Montez seemed to be catching fire with his own words. He said, "Gottstein, I have watched it for two years; you will watch it for at least that much longer. There is a fire here on the Moon; a restless burning. They expand in every direction. They expand physically. Every month, new corridors are bored, new living quarters established, a new population potential made room for. They expand as far as resources are concerned. They find new construction materials, new water sources, new lodes of specialized minerals. They expand their sun-power battery-banks, enlarge their electronics factories. . . . I suppose you know that these ten thousand people here on the Moon are now the major source for Earth's supply of mini-electronic devices and fine biochemicals."
"I know they're an important source."
"Earth lies to itself for comfort's sake. The Moon is the major source. At the present rate, it may become the sole source in the near future . . . It's growing intellectually, too. Gottstein, I imagine there isn't a bright science-oriented youngster on Earth who doesn't vaguely - or perhaps not so vaguely - dream of going, to the Moon one day. With Earth in retreat from technology, the Moon is where the action is."
"You're referring to the proton synchrotron, I suppose?"
"That's one example. When was the last new synchrotron built on Earth? But it's just the biggest and most dramatic item; not the only or even the most important. If you want to know the most important scientific device on the Moon - "
''Something so secret I haven't been told?"
"No, something so obvious that no one seems to notice. It's the ten thousand brains here. The ten thousand best human brains there are. The only close-knit group of ten thousand human brains that are, in principle and by emotion, science-oriented."
Gottstein moved restlessly and tried to shift his chair's position. It was bolted to the floor and wouldn't move, but in the attempt to do so, Gottstein found himself skittering out of the chair. Montez reached out an arm to steady him.
Gottstein flushed. "Sorry."
"You'll get used to the gravity."
Gottstein said, "But aren't you making it out a lot worse than it is? Earth isn't a know-nothing planet altogether. We did develop the Electron Pump. That's a purely Terrestrial accomplishment. No Lunarite had anything to do with it."
Montez shook his head and muttered a few words in his native Spanish. They didn't sound like placid words. He said, "Have you ever met Frederick Hallam?"
Gottstein smiled. "Yes, as a matter of fact I have. The Father of the Electron Pump. I believe he has the phrase tattooed on his chest."
"The mere fact that you smile and make that remark proves my point, really. Ask yourself: Could a man like Hallam really have fathered the Electron Pump? For the unthinking multitude, the story will do, but the fact is - and you must know it if you stop to think about it - there is no father to the Electron Pump. The para-people, &e people in the para-Universe, whoever they are and whatever that is, invented it. Hallam was their accidental instrument. All of Earth is their accidental instrument."
"We were clever enough to take advantage of their initiative."
"Yes, as cows are clever enough to eat the hay we provide for them. The Pump is no sign that man is forward-looking. Quite the reverse."
"If the Pump is a backward step, then I say good for backwardness. I wouldn't want to do without it."
"Who would? But the point is it fits Earth's present mood perfectly. Infinite energy at virtually zero cost, except for maintenance, and with zero pollution besides. But there are no Electron Pumps on the Moon."
Gottstein said, "I imagine there's no need for them. The Solar batteries supply what the Lunarites require. Infinite energy at virtually zero cost, except for maintenance, and with zero pollution besides. . . . Isn't that the litany?"
"Yes, indeed, but the Solar batteries are entirely man-made. That's the point I'm making. An Electron Pump was projected for the Moon; installation was attempted."
"And?"
"And it didn't work. The para-people didn't accept the tungsten. Nothing happened."
"I didn't know that. Why not?"
Montez lifted his shoulders and eyebrows expressively. "How is one to know? We might assume, for instance, that the para-people live on a world without a satellite; that they have no conception of separate worlds in close proximity, each populated; that, having found one, they did not seek another. Who knows? - The point is, that the para-people didn't bite and we ourselves, without them, could do nothing."
"We ourselves," repeated Gottstein, thoughtfully. "By that, you mean the Earthmen?"
"Yes."
"And the Lunarites?"
"They were not involved."
"Were they interested?"
"I don't know. That's where my uncertainty - and fear - chiefly rests. The Lunarites - the native Lunarites, particularly - do not feel like Earthmen. I don't know what their plans are or what they intend. I can't find out."
Gottstein looked thoughtful. "But what can they do? Do you have any reason to suppose they intend to do us harm; or that they can do Earth harm even if they intend it?"
"I can't answer that question. They are an attractive and intelligent people. It seems to me they lack real hatred or real rage or even real fear. But perhaps that is what only seems to me. What bothers me most is that I don't know."
"The scientific equipment on the Moon is run by Earth, I believe."
"That is correct. The proton synchrotron is. The radio telescope on the trans-terrestrial side is. The three-hundred-inch optical telescope is. . . . The large equipment, that is, all of which has been in existence for fifty years."
"And what's been done since?"
"Very little by Earthmen."
"What about the Lunarites?"
"I'm not sure. Their scientists work in the large installations, but I once tried to check time cards. There are gaps."
"Gaps?"
"They spend considerable time away from the large installations. It is as though they had laboratories of their own."
"Well, if they produce mini-electronic devices and fine biochemicals, isn't that to be expected?"
"Yes, but - Gottstein, I don't know. I fear my ignorance."
There was a moderately long pause. Gottstein said, "Montez, I take it you are telling me all this so that I will be careful; so that I will try to find out what the Lunarites are doing?"
"I suppose that's about it," said Montez, unhappily.
"But you don't even know that they're doing anything at all."
"I feel that they are."
Gottstein said, "It's odd, then. I should be trying to talk you out of all this fearful mysticism of yours - but it's odd - "
"What is?"
"The same vessel that brought me to the Moon brought someone else to the Moon. I mean, a large party came, but one face in particular triggered something. I didn't talk to him - had no occasion to - and I dismissed the matter. But now our talk is pushing a button, and he suddenly comes back to mind - "
"Yes?"
"I was on a committee once that dealt with Electron Pump matters. A question of safety." He smiled briefly. "Earth's lost nerve, you might say. We worry about safety everywhere - and a good thing, damn it, lost nerve or not. The details escape me but in connection with that hearing, I saw that face that now I saw on the vessel. I'm convinced of it."
"Does that have significance, do you think?"
"I'm not sure. I associate that face with something disturbing. If I keep on thinking, it may come back to me. In any case, I had better get a list of the passengers and see if any name means something to me. Too bad, Montez, but I think you're getting me started."
"Not bad at all," said Montez. "I'm glad of it. As for this man; it may be he is only a tourist of no consequence and will be gone in two weeks, but I am glad to have you thinking about the matter - "
Gottstein did not seem to be listening. "He is a physicist, or a scientist of some sort," he muttered. "I'm certain of it and I associate him with danger - "
4
"Hello," said Selene, cheerfully.
The Earthman turned around. Recognition took almost no time at all. "Selene! Am I right? Selene!"
"Right! Correctly pronounced. Are you enjoying yourself?"
The Earthman said gravely, "Very much. It makes me realize how unique our century is. It was not so long ago I was on Earth, feeling tired of my world, tired of myself. Then I thought: Well, if I were living a hundred years ago, the only way I could leave the world would be to die, but now - I can go to the Moon." He smiled without real gaiety.
Selene said, "Are you happier now that you are on the Moon?"
"A little." He looked about. "Don't you have a crowd of tourists to take care of?"
"Not today," she said, cheerfully. "It's my day off. Who knows, I may take two or three. It's a dull job."
"What a shame, then, that you bump into a tourist on your day off."
"I didn't bump into you. I came looking for you. And a hard job that was, too. You shouldn't wander off by yourself."
The Earthman looked at her with interest. "Why should you look for me? Are you fond of Earthmen?"
"No," she said, with easy frankness. "I'm sick of them. I dislike them on principle and being constantly associated with them in my job makes it worse."
"Yet you come looking for me and there isn't a way on Earth - on the Moon, I mean - that I can convince myself I am young and handsome."
"Even if you were, it wouldn't help. Earthmen don't interest me, as everyone but Barren knows."
"Then why do you come looking for me?"
"Because there are other ways of being interested and because Barton is interested."
"And who is Barron? Your boyfriend?"
Selene laughed. "Barron Neville. He's a lot more than a boy and a lot more than a friend. We have sex when we feel like it."
"Well, that's what I meant. Do you have children?"
"One boy. He's ten. He spends most of his time in the boys' compound. To spare you the next question, he's not Barron's. I may have a child by Barron If we're still together when I'm assigned another child - if I'm assigned another child. . . . I am pretty sure I will be."
"You're quite frank."
"About things I don't consider secret? Of course . . . Now what would you like to do?"
They had been walking along a corridor of milk-white rock, into the glazed surface of which were Inset dusky bits of "Moon-gems" that lay about for the taking in most sections of the Lunar surface. She wore sandals which scarcely seemed to touch the ground; he wore thick-soled boots which leadenly helped weigh him down to keep his steps from becoming torture.
The corridor was one-way. Occasionally, a small electric cart would overtake them and move nearly silently past.
The Earthman said, "Now what would I like to do? That is a broad-beamed invitation. Would you like to set boundary conditions so that my answers will not innocently offend you?"
"Are you a physicist?"
The Earthman hesitated. "Why do you ask?"
"Just to hear what you would say. I know you're a physicist."
"How?"
"No one says 'set boundary conditions' unless they are.
Especially if the first thing they want to see on the Moon is the proton synchrotron."
"Is that why you've come looking for me? Because I seem to be a physicist?"
"That's why Barron sent me looking for you. Because he's a physicist. I came because I thought you were rather unusual for an Earthman."
"In what way?"
"Nothing terribly complimentary - if it's compliments you're fishing for. It's just that you seem not to like Earth-men."
"How can you tell that?"
"I watched you look at the others in the party. Besides, I can always tell somehow. It's the Earthies who don't like Earthies who tend to stay on the Moon. Which brings me back to the question. . . . What would you like to do? And I'll set the boundary conditions. I mean as far as sightseeing is concerned."
The Earthman looked at her sharply. "That's peculiar, Selene. You have a day off. Your job is sufficiently uninteresting or distasteful so that you are glad to have the day off and would be willing to make it two or three. Yet your way of spending it is to volunteer to resume your job for me particularly. . . . Just because of a little interest."
"Barron's interest. He's busy now and there's no harm in entertaining you until he's ready . . . Besides, it's different. Can't you see it's different? On my job I'm riding herd on a couple of dozen Earthies -  Don't you mind my using the term?"
"I use it myself."