CHAPTER 5
The Sphere
THE moon was almost full and I was busy exploring the south-eastern slopes of the Apennines. I was examining strange forms of animal and plant life and trying to identify a certain animal as the five-toed-eohippus, the pre-historic ancestor of the horse. Suddenly a large shadow passed directly across my field of vision- I attempted to follow it, but it passed so quickly I lost it. Quickly changing to a weaker eye-piece with a larger field I began searching for it. I can not describe the anxiety with which I watched for a glimpse of this dark shadow or the mysterious object that cast it. At last, I found them both and followed them as they passed along the lower slopes of the Apennines and out into Mare Serenitatis, the “Sea of Serenity,” the smoothest, but loneliest of the seas we know on the moon. When I changed to a more powerful lens, I found the moving object to be a sphere, about two hundred feet in diameter. It was made of some wine-colored metal, covered with windows and doors and peculiar metal rods and projections. I estimated its speed at about fifty miles per hour, as it moved across the sea-bottom. No propellers were visible, nor could I believe it filled with gas like our balloons or dirigibles. Here perhaps was the answer to my fondest dream—gravity control for inter-planetary travel. For a few minutes, my joy knew no bounds. Perhaps I could learn its secret and construct a similar sphere. From what planet had it come? What manner of creatures were inside! Were they exploring the moon, preparatory to making an attack on the earth? Or, worse yet, had they come from the earth!
Had someone actually solved the problem and robbed me of my dream of being the first to go to the moon? I feared the worst, but I had never heard of any plans for visiting the moon. Probably it had been kept secret like father’s telescope; but if I could get a chance to photograph them, it would be a secret no longer. At last, the sphere checked its speed and moved to a lower altitude. My opportunity had come sooner than I had expected; the sphere was going to land.
With my hands on the control switches and my eyes glued to the eyepiece, I followed the sphere to the ground. After a few moments, I noticed something on the ground beside it. My suspicions were confirmed. They were men! Human beings! But they were dressed unlike any men I had ever seen or heard of. They wore white sun-helmets, similar to those of a tropical explorer, and a loose fitting, one-piece garment, not unlike a mechanic’s cover-alls, but much more neat and dignified. Their faces showed a close resemblance to the Nordic branch of the Caucasian race, but they were lighter and more fair than any I had ever seen. This made me certain that they were neither Selenites nor Terrestrials. The rays of the sun, on any latitude of the moon, would tan their faces blacker than that of any negro. Father had told me that no form of life on the other planets even resembled the human race; so these men must have come from the earth after all.
Within a few minutes, more men emerged from the sphere, carrying boxes, some of which were made of this red metal, while others resembled paper cartons. They moved with a perfect naturalness of action, exactly like men of the earth. The low gravity of the moon did not handicap their movements in the least. They were evidently accustomed to it. Thus I realized I had been mistaken; they were natives of the moon after all, belonging to a race, undoubtedly superior to our own.
After twenty or more of these boxes had been piled up, another man, evidently the leader of the expedition, emerged from the sphere, followed by others. At a command from the haughty leader, for whom I had immediately taken a deep dislike, six men appeared carrying another who was bound hand and foot. The victim was helped to his feet and the important person addressed him. For a short time they talked and appeared to be exchanging insults. At last, the brave commander walked up to his prey and struck him several times in the face. His followers appeared to cheer this bravery and laugh at his helpless antagonist, whom he struck in the face again and again. Blood spurted from the defiant face of the helpless one and dripped to his white garments.
With a gesture toward the pile of boxes, the commander entered the sphere, followed by his men, leaving the defiant victim bound hand and foot. The sphere now rose vertically and moved toward the southeast.
My sympathies were all with the helpless man, marooned on the desert, but my curiosity compelled me to follow the sphere which, with increasing speed, was now moving toward Mare Crisium. As it approached that region, it slowed down and appeared to be searching for something. When the herd of flat-footed creatures was sighted, the sphere settled slowly to the ground among them. They did not pay any more attention to it than a herd of cattle gives to a passing automobile. They were neither curious nor afraid.
Possibly accustomed to it or it may be that fear was an unknown emotion to them. In a world where they had no natural enemies to fear, it is not strange that they did not know fear.
They paid no attention to the commander of the sphere as he approached them. This great personage was now braver than he had been when he struck the helpless man in the fact; as he had left his body-guard inside the sphere.
He removed from a pocket a lens, with which he focused the solar rays to a point, igniting the thick dry vegetation. He then hurried to the sphere and moved just out of reach of the flames, which were spreading death and destruction among the innocent creatures. After the men in the sphere had enjoyed this scene to their satisfaction, they moved onward to the southeast and as the moon approached the western horizon and out of my range of vision, the sphere was passing over the moon’s eastern limb, heading no doubt for one of their cities on the other side of the moon.
The Man in the Moon
NO sleep was possible for me the next day. But who could sleep with his mind occupied by a strange, cruel drama, enacted on another world! Two mysteries lad been discovered and two facts had been learned. The moon was capable of supporting human life and the invisible atmosphere was heavier than our own. This matter was proven by the smoke from the fire in Mare Crisium. With an absence of air currents, smoke rises to an altitude where its specific gravity is equal to the surrounding atmosphere. On the earth, this altitude is often very low, but in Mare Crisium, it rose much high and fast; it was still rising when it had vanished. The fire demonstrated also that the air contained not only oxygen, but some unknown heavy gas which made its atmospheric pressure probably as great as our own, in spite of the moon’s weaker gravity. If these were not suffering from the effects of the atmosphere, I was convinced that terrestrial men could endure it also.
But, if the moon was inhabited by human beings, why had I not found evidence of them before? Were all their cities located on the other side of the moon? And if so why was that? Was the other side of the moon any different from the side turned toward the earth? I could not devote much time to these questions, as a more important question intruded itself constantly. Who was this helpless man, whom I had seen marooned on the desert, bound hand and foot, with nothing but a few boxes? Was he a criminal? We this a customary method of punishment! It was all so strange, for his enemies looked more to me like criminals than he. Even had he been a criminal, it was beastly to the highest degree to leave a helpless man alone in such conditions, under a merciless sun that would beat down on him continually for six more of our days and nights. And, too, fire, kindled so ruthlessly in Mare Crisium, was more the act of a criminal than any administrator of justice. This helpless man then was no criminal, but the victim of a cruel and powerful enemy.
When evening came, I was already waiting anxiously for a sight of the moon. She slowly rose above the eastern horizon. As she mounted higher in the sky, she now showed the resemblance of a human face more than ever. But such a face! It was sad and gloomy, as if brooding over some fearful secret. She and I had something in common—a knowledge that was not shared with anyone on earth. Since early childhood, we had spent thousands of nights gazing into each other’s face, a quarter of a million miles apart. I had always told her all my secrets, my joys and my sorrows; now, she was revealing her secrets and troubles to me and I received them with an understanding too deep to define.
When the proper moment arrived, I caught the rays of the shining orb of night in my giant lens. A few minutes later, I was scrutinizing the Sea of Serenity.!or some time the density of the terrestrial atmosphere interfered with my vision, but at last I located the pile of boxes, the scene of last night’s cruel drama. As a bore powerful eyepiece moved me nearer to the scene, | noticed that the boxes had been opened and the man gone. Had the sphere returned and rescued him!
Had his friends found him and taken him to a place of safety! The faint foot-prints in the sand answered my question. He had freed himself and was now walking to some haven of refuge. But where could that be? There were no mountains or craters within hundreds of miles.
I brought the vision closer and found the open boxes to contain small oblong cakes, while the metal boxes looked like some sort of a can or container for water. Bread and water! Was that all that stood between this unfortunate man and death! I followed his footprints for over an hour before I found him, at a point about fifty miles southwest of his starting point. He was now walking across the hot desert, carrying several of the heavy boxes on his back. He appeared to have been walking without rest, since the night before. Fatigue was showing on him plainly and he soon sat down to rest.
For the first time, I observed him carefully. Last night, I was too engrossed with his contemptible captors, to notice what sort of a creature he might be. Tonight he was alone, so he received all of my attention. When his burdens were removed from his back, he took off his sun-helmet and mopped the perspiration from his face, which was now turned toward me.
And such a face! Such a countenance! It can not be described without taking forbidden liberties with the English language. There is but one word that could describe it, a word denied to the description of men. He was beautiful! His features were as smooth and fair as those of a woman, but the general appearance was far from being feminine. His perfectly-formed face bespoke a possession of power, culture and unlimited courage and determination, even in his present peril. There was about him some superior quality, not of the earth, that prohibits comparison with the most perfect sons of Adam.
His tall, well-developed body was just as magnificent, the clothing failing to conceal the fine graceful muscles beneath it. His muscles appeared to be powerful and well developed; but the efforts required to lift his burdens showed that they were either very heavy or there was some natural weakness that proportioned his strength to the lower gravitational strength of his world.
The moon was his home, his natural element. Nature had adapted his muscles to the gravity of that globe and, if he were brought to the earth, it is doubtful if he could have risen to his feet. But in spite of this natural weakness, there was a sublimity of his splendid body possessed by none of our race.
On to Mount Despair
HIS next move was to take a drink of water. He did not seem to enjoy it, for it must have been very hot. He next opened a box and removed two of his cakes, which he ate without any great relish. From a pocket, he removed a small box, took from it something too small for me to see, and swallowed it. He then sat down for a few minutes and rested.
He soon opened another box and removed a map and a strange instrument, with which he took his bearings. He scanned the sky, as if looking for familiar stars or constellations to guide him. With his fingers, he made several marks in the sand, mathematical calculations, I presumed, and appeared to be satisfied with the result, for he immediately took up his burdens and moved toward the southwest.
For hours he continued in what was almost a straight line, walking with a steady, rhythmic stride, that no soldier on parade could imitate. Then he would run for miles at a time, with the grace and untiring speed of an athlete. The merciless rays of the sun and the blistering sands must have caused him intense discomfort, but he never faltered. His marvelous will-power and determination proved to be a merciless taskmaker for his tired and aching muscles. Who could watch such a man without admiration, or feel anything but pity for those aching muscles and blistering feet! But he must not stop to rest; his progress must not be checked for a single instant, no matter how great his suffering.
Suddenly, I wondered where he was going. Was there an oasis or a city ahead of him! I moved my lens in the direction he was traveling and followed his path for a distance of over two hundred miles before I found anything that might have been his destination. There was a small volcanic mountain, about two miles in diameter and almost a mile high, directly in his path. It is located near what was once the shore of the Sea of Serenity, in an almost level country.
My charts of the moon showed it, but it had never been named. It did not appear possible that the unfortunate man could ever reach it, so I named it Mount Despair. Like all other craters and mountains on the moon, Mt. Despair is full of smaller craters, caves and over-hanging rocks. Near the foot of the mountain, a small spring of water flowed down out of the rocks, only to be soaked up by the dry sands a few hundred feet away. Thick grass and some sort of a scrub pine covered the entire lower slopes of the mountain. Several strange birds and small kangaroo-like animals were to be found near the water.
One particular cave attracted my attention. Its entrance, which appeared to be entirely artificial, had something that looked like two doors. This at least would be a great protection against the cold lunar night, if the poor traveler could reach it. But that was a question. During the last twenty-four hours, he had traveled about one hundred miles; but he had not stopped to sleep. Three more days at that speed, and he would arrive at his destination. But what manner of man was capable of such a Journey? It was just as difficult as walking across the Sahara, and that is considered beyond human endurance. Was it possible that Nature, in sacrificing lifting power with this race of Lunarites, had compensated by giving them greater endurance? It did not seem unreasonable, considering the length of the lunar day and the low gravity; no doubt Nature had adjusted them to the conditions of their world.
I moved the lens back to the Sea of Serenity and found him still struggling onward with his heavy burdens. Fatigue was showing on him; he could not continue his rapid pace much longer. His face was worn and haggard, the skin cracked and blistered, giving it a raw beefy look; a consequence of the intense solar heat. For over an hour I watched his tortured efforts as he plodded onward. Suddenly he stumbled and fell.
For several minutes he lay where he had fallen, with his splendid face in the sand. What would I have not given for the opportunity to help him, to lift that handsome but haggard face from the dust and give him a refreshing drink of cool water! But I could only watch him suffer, knowing that we were forever separated by a vacuum, a quarter of a million miles wide.
At last he moved. His face was bleeding from a cut above his eyes, and the blood was drying as fast as it flowed. He removed his burdens from his back and washed his face in the warm water, which on earth would have evaporated on exposure to the sun. Then he removed his shoes and bathed his swollen and bleeding feet. After he drank of his precious water, he ate two of his cakes, and from the box of tablets he swallowed one. This was either some powerful drug with great resuscitating qualities, or its purpose was to remove the effects of fatigue and loss of sleep. Almost immediately after taking it, he appeared to be greatly refreshed, his face took on that former defiant expression of determination and courage; all evidence of fatigue seemed to leave him.
After again taking his bearings and consulting his map, he replaced his shoes and with a smile of confidence, shouldered his burdens and resumed his journey. His step was now that of an untired man at the beginning of a journey.
My admiration for this strange man knew no bounds, Why were men of the earth not like him! Why could they not have his fineness of features, instead of those crude, weak, brutal faces! Why did they not have that godlike intelligence? Was it due to the superiority of his race? Would our men be as splendid as he a few, thousands years hence, after we had properly developed^
Or, was there another reason—was it my imagination? Did something cause me to give him credit for more virtues than he possessed, just as father ascribed my entire description of him to my imagination! Was it love? No! Heaven forbid such an impossible thing! What would my father say about such an absurd thing? But it must be true. But I must not believe it. I would not believe that I was hopelessly and madly in love with the man in the moon!