The First Men in the Moon by H. Wells (smart ebook reader TXT) 📗

Four windows were open in order that the gravitation of the moon might act upon all the substances in our sphere. I found I was no longer floating freely in space, but that my feet were resting on the glass in the direction of the moon. The blankets and cases of provisions were also creeping slowly down the glass, and presently came to rest so as to block out a portion of the view. It seemed to me, of course, that I looked ‘down’ when I looked at the moon. On earth ‘down’ means earthward, the way things fall, and ‘up’ the reverse direction. Now the pull of gravitation was towards the moon, and for all I knew to the contrary our earth was overhead. And, of course, when all the Cavorite blinds were closed, ‘down’ was towards the centre of our sphere, and ‘up’ towards its outer wall.

It was curiously unlike earthly experience, too, to have the light coming up to one. On earth light falls from above, or comes slanting down sideways, but here it came from beneath our feet, and to see our shadows we had to look up.

At first it gave me a sort of vertigo to stand only on thick glass and look down upon the moon through hundreds of thousands of miles of vacant space; but this sickness passed very speedily. And then — the splendour of the sight!

The reader may imagine it best if he will lie on the ground some warm summer’s night and look between his upraised feet at the moon, but for some reason, probably because the absence of air made it so much more luminous, the moon seemed already considerably larger than it does from earth. The minutest details of its surface were acutely clear. And since we did not see it through air, its outline was bright and sharp, there was no glow or halo about it, and the star-dust that covered the sky came right to its very margin, and marked the outline of its unilluminated part. And as I stood and stared at the moon between my feet, that perception of the impossible that had been with me off and on ever since our start, returned again with tenfold conviction.

‘Cavor,’ I said, ‘this takes me queerly. Those companies we were going to run, and all that about minerals?’

‘Well?’

‘I don’t see ’em here.’

‘No,’ said Cavor; ‘but you’ll get over all that.’

‘I suppose I’m made to turn right side up again. Still, this — For a moment I could half believe there never was a world.’

‘That copy of Lloyd’s News might help you.’

I stared at the paper for a moment, then held it above the level of my face, and found I could read it quite easily. I struck a column of mean little advertisements. ‘A gentleman of private means is willing to lend money,’ I read. I knew that gentleman. Then somebody eccentric wanted to sell a Cutaway bicycle* ‘quite new and cost £15,’ for five pounds; and a lady in distress wished to dispose of some fish knives and forks, ‘a wedding present,’ at a great sacrifice. No doubt some simple soul was sagely examining these knives and forks, and another triumphantly riding off on that bicycle, and a third trustfully consulting that benevolent gentleman of means even as I read. I laughed, and let the paper drift from my hand.

‘Are we visible from the earth?’ I asked.

‘Why?’

‘I knew some one who was rather interested in astronomy. It occurred to me that it would be rather odd if — my friend — chanced to be looking through some telescope.’

‘It would need the most powerful telescope on earth even now to see us as the minutest speck.’

For a time I stared in silence at the moon.

‘It’s a world,’ I said; ‘one feels that infinitely more than one ever did on earth. People perhaps——’

‘People!’ he exclaimed. ‘No! Banish all that! Think yourself a sort of ultra-arctic voyager exploring the desolate places of space. Look at it!’

He waved his hand at the shining whiteness below. ‘It’s dead — dead! Vast extinct volcanoes, lava wildernesses, tumbled wastes of snow, or frozen carbonic acid, or frozen air, and everywhere landslips, seams and cracks and gulfs. Nothing happens. Men have watched this planet systematically with telescopes for over two hundred years. How much change do you think they have seen?’

‘None.’

‘They have traced two indisputable landslips, a doubtful crack, and one slight periodic change of colour, and that’s all.’

‘i didn’t know they’d traced even that.’

‘Oh yes. But as for people!’

‘By the way,’ i asked, ‘how small a thing will the biggest telescopes show upon the moon?’

‘One could see a fair-sized church. One could certainly see any towns or buildings, or anything like the handiwork of men. There might perhaps be insects, something in the way of ants, for example, so that they could hide in deep burrows from the lunar night, or some new sort of creatures having no earthly parallel. That is the most probable thing, if we are to find life there at all. Think of the difference in conditions! Life must fit itself to a day as long as fourteen earthly days, a cloudless sun-blaze of fourteen days, and then a night of equal length, growing ever colder and colder under these cold, sharp stars. In that night there must be cold, the ultimate cold, absolute zero, 273°C. below the earthly freezing point. Whatever life there is must hibernate through that, and rise again each day.’

He mused. ‘One can imagine something worm-like,’ he said, ‘taking its air solid as an earth-worm swallows earth, or thick-skinned monsters——’

‘By-the-bye,’ I said, ‘why didn’t we bring a gun?’

He did not answer that question. ‘No,’ he concluded, ‘we just have to go. We shall see when we get there.’

I remembered something. ‘Of course, there’s my minerals, anyhow,’ I said; ‘whatever the conditions may be.’

Presently he told me he wished to alter our course a little by letting the earth tug at us for a moment. He was going to open one earthward