The Gods Themselves
Chapter 21

7
Denison opened the door by hand. There was a contact that would have opened it automatically, but in the blur of waking, he could not find it.
The dark-haired man, with a face that was somehow scowling in repose, said, "I'm sorry. . . . Am I early?"
Denison repeated the last word to give him time to absorb matters. "Early? . . . No. I . . . I'm late, I think."
"I called. We made an appointment - "
And now Denison had it. "Yes. You're Dr. Neville."
"That's right. May I come in?"
He stepped in as he asked. Denison's room was small, and held a rumpled bed that took up most of the available space. The ventilator was sighing softly.
Neville said with meaningless courtesy, "Slept well, I hope?"
Denison looked down at his pajamas and passed his hand over his rumpled hair. "No," he said abruptly. "I had an abominable night. May I be excused long enough to make myself more presentable?"
"Of course. Would you like to have me prepare breakfast meanwhile? You may be unacquainted with the equipment."
"It would be a favor," said Denison.
He emerged some twenty minutes later, washed and shaved, wearing trousers and an undershirt. He said, "I trust I didn't break the shower. It went off and I couldn't turn it on again."
"The water's rationed. You only get so much. This is the Moon, Doctor. I've taken the liberty of preparing scrambled eggs and hot soup for the two of us."
"Scrambled - "
"We call it that. Earthmen wouldn't, I suppose."
Denison said, "Oh!" He sat down with something less than enthusiasm and tasted the pasty yellow mixture that clearly was what the other meant by scrambled eggs. He tried not to make a face at the first taste and then manfully swallowed it and dug in for a second forkful.
"You'll get used to it with time," said Neville, "and it's highly nourishing. I might warn you that the high-protein content and the low gravity will cut your need for food."
"Just as well," said Denison, clearing his throat.
Neville said, "Selene tells me that you intend to stay on the Moon."
Denison said, "That was my intention." He rubbed his eyes. "I've had a terrible night, though. It tests my resolution."
"How many times did you fall out of bed?"
"Twice. . . . I take it that the situation is a common one."
"For men of Earth, an invariable one. Awake, you can make yourself walk with due regard for the Moon's gravity. Asleep, you toss as you would on Earth. But at least falling is not painful at low gravity."
"The second time, I slept on the floor awhile before waking. Didn't remember falling. What the hell do you do about it?"
"You mustn't neglect your periodic checks on heartbeat, blood pressure, and so on, just to make sure the gravity change isn't introducing too much of a strain."
I'vebeen amply warned of that," said Denison with distaste. "la fact, I have fixed appointments for the next month. And pills."
"Well," said Neville, as if dismissing a triviality, "within a week you'll probably have no trouble at all. . . . And you'll need proper clothing. Those trousers will never do and that flimsy upper garment serves no purpose."
"I presume there's some place I can buy clothes."
"Of course. If you can get her when she's off duty, Selene will be glad to help, I'm sure. She assures me you're a decent sort, Doctor."
"I'm delighted she thinks so." Denison, having swallowed a spoonful of the soup, looked at it as though he were wondering what to do with the rest. Grimly, he continued the task of downing it.
"She judged you to be a physicist, but of course she's wrong."
"I was trained as a radiochemist."
"You haven't worked at that either for a long time, Doctor. We may be out of it up here, but we're not that far out of it. You're one of Hallam's victims."
"Are there so many you speak of them as a group?"
"Why not? The whole Moon is one of Hallam's victims."
"The Moon?"
"In a manner of speaking."
"I don't understand."
"We have no Electron Pump Stations on the Moon. None have been established because there has been no cooperation from the para-Universe. No samples of tungsten have been accepted."
"Surely, Dr. Neville, you don't intend to imply that this is Hallam's doing."
"In a negative way, yes. Why must it be only the para-Universe which can initiate a Pump Station. Why not ourselves?"
"As far as I know, we lack the knowledge to take the initiative."
"And we will continue to lack the knowledge if research into the matter is forbidden."
"Is it forbidden?" Denison asked, with a faint note of surprise.
"In effect. If none of the work necessary to expand knowledge in that direction finds adequate priorities at the proton synchrotron or at any of the other large equipment - all controlled by Earth and all under the influence of Hallam - then the research is effectively forbidden."
Denison rubbed his eyes. "I suspect I will have to sleep again before long. . . . I beg your pardon. I did not mean to imply you were boring me. But tell me, is the Electron Pump so important to the Moon? Surely the Solar batteries are effective and sufficient."
"They tie us to the Sun, Doctor. They tie us to the surface."
"Well -  But why does Hallam take this adverse interest in the matter, do you suppose, Dr. Neville?"
"You know better than I, if you know him personally, as I do not. He prefers not to make it clear to the public generally that the entire Electron Pump establishment is the product of the para-men, with ourselves merely servants of the masters. And if, on the Moon, we advance to the point where we ourselves know what we are doing, then the birth of the true Electron Pump technology will date from our moment, not from his."
Denison said, "Why do you tell me all this?"
"To avoid wasting my time. Ordinarily, we welcome physicists from Earth. We feel cut off here on the Moon, victims of deliberate Terrestrial policy against us, and a physicist-visitor can be helpful, even if only to give us a feeling of lesser isolation. A physicist-immigrant is even more helpful and we like to explain the situation to him and encourage him to work with us. I am sorry that you are not, after all, a physicist."
Denison said, impatiently, "But I never said I was."
"And yet you asked to see the synchrotron. Why?"
"Is that really what's bothering you? My dear sir, let me try to explain. My scientific career was ruined half a lifetime ago. I, have decided to see some sort of rehabilitation, some sort of renewed meaning, to my life as far away from Hallam as I could get - which means here on the Moon. I was trained as a radiochemist, but that has not permanently paralyzed me as far as any other field of endeavor is concerned. Para-physics is the great field of today and I have done my best to self-educate myself there, feeling that this will offer me my best hope for rehabilitation."
Neville nodded. "I see," he said with clear dubiousness.
"By the way, since you mentioned the Electron Pump -  Have you heard anything about the theories of Peter Lamont?"
Neville eyed the other narrowly. "No. I don't think I know the man."
"Yes, he is not yet famous. And probably never will be; chiefly for the same reason I'll never be. He crossed Hallam. . . . 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. Lamont'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 Lamont 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 Lamont'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 Lamont 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 supernally 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!"