was wrong. At first he just had a kind of strange feeling that he couldn't explain, but he was a sensible
science reporter so he didn't worry about it too much.
The reason he was here, after all, was because the United Nations Space Administration had asked
him to come. UNSA always liked to get sensible, responsible people to send the Moon news back to Earth. It was even more important these days, when an overcrowded world was screaming for more
roads and schools and sea farms, and getting angry about all the money that was spent on space research.
So here he was, on his second visit to the Moon, and sending back reports of two thousand words a
day. The Moon no longer felt strange to him, but there remained the mystery and wonder of a world as
big as Africa, and still almost completely unknown. Just a stone's throw away from the enclosed Plato
City was a great, silent emptiness that would test human cleverness for centuries to come.
Cooper had already visited and written about the famous place where the first men had landed on
the Moon. But that now belonged to the past, like Columbus's voyage to America, and the Wright
brothers, who built and flew successfully the first plane with an engine. What interested Cooper now
was the future.
When he had landed at Archimedes Spaceport, everyone had been very glad to see him. Everything
was arranged for his tour, and he could go where he liked, ask any questions he wanted. UNSA had
always been friendly towards him because the reports and stories he sent back to Earth were accurate.
But something was wrong somewhere, and he was going to find out what it was.
He reached for the phone and said, `Please get me the Police Office. I want to speak to the Chief
Inspector.'
* * * * * * ** * *
early in the morning (by clock time, that is, as one Moon day was as long as twenty−eight Earth days),
and there was no one around. Cooper had known the Police Chief for many years and for a while they
talked about old friends and old times.
Then Cooper said, `You know everything that's happening on the Moon, Chandra. And you know
that I'm here to do a number of reports for UNSA. So why are people trying to hide things from me?'
It was impossible to hurry Chandra. He just went on smoking his pipe until he was ready to answer.
`What people?' he asked at last.
`You really don't know?'
The Chief Inspector shook his head. `Not an idea,' he said; and Cooper knew that he was telling the
truth. Chandra might be silent, but he would not lie.
`Well, the main thing that I've noticed − and it frightens me a lot − is that the Medical Research
Group is avoiding me. Last time I was here, everyone was very friendly, and gave me some fine stories.
But now, I can't even meet the research boss. He's always too busy, or on the other side of the Moon.
What kind of man is he?'
`Dr Hastings? A difficult man. Very clever, but not easy to work with.'
`What could he be trying to hide?'
`Oh, I'm just a simple policeman. But I'm sure a news reporter like you has some interesting ideas
about it.'
`Well,' said Cooper, `it can't be anything criminal − not in these times. So that leaves one big
worry, which really frightens me. Some kind of new, killer disease. Suppose that a spaceship has come
back from Mars or somewhere, carrying some really terrible disease − and the doctors can't do anything
about it?'
There was a long silence. Then Chandra said, `I'll start asking some questions. I don't like it either,
because here's something that you probably don't know. There were three nervous breakdowns in the
Medical Group last month− and that's very, very unusual.'
* * * * * * * * * *
The call came two weeks later, in the middle of the night− the real Moon night. By Plato City time,
it was Sunday morning.
`Henry? Chandra here. Can you meet me in half an hour at Airlock Five? Good. I'll see you there.'
This was it, Cooper knew. Airlock Five meant that they were going outside the city. Chandra had
found something.
As the Moon car drove along the rough road from the city, Cooper could see the Earth, low in the
southern sky. It was almost full, and threw a bright blue−green light over the hard, ugly land of the
Moon. It was difficult, Cooper told himself, to see how the Moon could ever be a welcoming place. But
if humans wanted to know nature's secrets, it was to places like these that they must come.
The car turned off on to another road and in a while came to a shining glass building standing
alone. There was another Moon car, with a red cross on its side, parked by the entrance. Soon they had
passed through the airlock, and Cooper was following Chandra down a long hall, past laboratories and
computer rooms, all empty on this Sunday morning. At last they came into a large round room in the
centre of the building, which was filled with all kinds of plants and small animals from Earth. Waiting
there, was a short, grey−haired man, looking very worried, and very unhappy.
`Dr Hastings,' said Coomaraswamy, `meet Mr Cooper.' He turned to Cooper and added, `I've
persuaded the doctor that there's only one way to keep you quiet − and that's to tell you everything.'
The scientist was not interested in shaking hands or making polite conversation. He walked over to
one of the containers, took out a small brown animal, and held it out towards Cooper.
`Do you know what this is?' he asked, unsmiling.
`Of course,' said Cooper. `A hamster − used in laboratories everywhere.'
`Yes,' said Hastings. `A perfectly normal golden hamster. Except that this one is five years old −
like all the others in this container.'
`Well? What's strange about that?'
`Oh, nothing, nothing at all... except for the unimportant fact that hamsters live for only two years.
And we have some here that are nearly ten years old.'
For a moment no one spoke, but the room was not silent. It was full of the sounds of the
movements and cries of small animals. Then Cooper whispered, `My God − you've found a way to
make life longer!'
`Oh no,' Hastings said. `We've not found it. The Moon has given it to us. . . and the reason has been
right under our noses all the time.' He seemed calmer now, and more in control of himself. `On Earth,'
he went on, `we spend our whole lives fighting gravity. Every step we take, every movement we make,
is hard work for our bodies. In seventy years, how much blood does the heart lift through how many
kilometres? But here on the Moon, where an eighty− kilo human weighs only about thirteen kilos, a
body has to do only a sixth of that work.'
`I see,' said Cooper slowly. `Ten years for a hamster− and how long for a human?'
`It's not a simple scientific law,' answered Hastings. `It depends on a number of things, and a
month ago we really didn't know. But now we're quite certain: on the Moon, a human life will last at
least two hundred years.'
`And you've been trying to keep it secret!'
`You fool! Don't you understand?'
`Take it easy, Doctor − take it easy,' said Chandra softly.
Hastings took a deep breath and got himself under control again. He began to speak with icy
calmness, and his words fell like freezing raindrops into Cooper's mind.
`Think of them up there,' he said, waving his hand upwards to the unseen Earth. `Six billion of
them, packed on to land which isn't big enough to hold them all. Already they're crowding over into the
sea beds. And here, there are only a hundred thousand of us, on an almost empty world. But a world
where we need years and years of scientific and engineering work just to make life possible; a world
where only a few of the brightest and most intelligent scientists can get a job.
`And now we find that we can live for two hundred years. Imagine how they're going to feel about that news! This is your problem now, Mr Newsman; you've asked for it, and you've got it. Tell me this,
please − I'd really be interested to know − just how are you going to tell them?'
He waited, and waited. Cooper opened his mouth, then closed it again, unable to think of anything
to say.
In the far corner of the room, one of the baby animals began to cry.
it was Sunday morning.
`Henry? Chandra here. Can you meet me in half an hour at Airlock Five? Good. I'll see you there.'
This was it, Cooper knew. Airlock Five meant that they were going outside the city. Chandra had
found something.
As the Moon car drove along the rough road from the city, Cooper could see the Earth, low in the
southern sky. It was almost full, and threw a bright blue−green light over the hard, ugly land of the
Moon. It was difficult, Cooper told himself, to see how the Moon could ever be a welcoming place. But
if humans wanted to know nature's secrets, it was to places like these that they must come.
The car turned off on to another road and in a while came to a shining glass building standing
alone. There was another Moon car, with a red cross on its side, parked by the entrance. Soon they had
passed through the airlock, and Cooper was following Chandra down a long hall, past laboratories and
computer rooms, all empty on this Sunday morning. At last they came into a large round room in the
centre of the building, which was filled with all kinds of plants and small animals from Earth. Waiting
there, was a short, grey−haired man, looking very worried, and very unhappy.
`Dr Hastings,' said Coomaraswamy, `meet Mr Cooper.' He turned to Cooper and added, `I've
persuaded the doctor that there's only one way to keep you quiet − and that's to tell you everything.'
The scientist was not interested in shaking hands or making polite conversation. He walked over to
one of the containers, took out a small brown animal, and held it out towards Cooper.
`Do you know what this is?' he asked, unsmiling.
`Of course,' said Cooper. `A hamster − used in laboratories everywhere.'
`Yes,' said Hastings. `A perfectly normal golden hamster. Except that this one is five years old −
like all the others in this container.'
`Well? What's strange about that?'
`Oh, nothing, nothing at all... except for the unimportant fact that hamsters live for only two years.
And we have some here that are nearly ten years old.'
For a moment no one spoke, but the room was not silent. It was full of the sounds of the
movements and cries of small animals. Then Cooper whispered, `My God − you've found a way to
make life longer!'
`Oh no,' Hastings said. `We've not found it. The Moon has given it to us. . . and the reason has been
right under our noses all the time.' He seemed calmer now, and more in control of himself. `On Earth,'
he went on, `we spend our whole lives fighting gravity. Every step we take, every movement we make,
is hard work for our bodies. In seventy years, how much blood does the heart lift through how many
kilometres? But here on the Moon, where an eighty− kilo human weighs only about thirteen kilos, a
body has to do only a sixth of that work.'
`I see,' said Cooper slowly. `Ten years for a hamster− and how long for a human?'
`It's not a simple scientific law,' answered Hastings. `It depends on a number of things, and a
month ago we really didn't know. But now we're quite certain: on the Moon, a human life will last at
least two hundred years.'
`And you've been trying to keep it secret!'
`You fool! Don't you understand?'
`Take it easy, Doctor − take it easy,' said Chandra softly.
Hastings took a deep breath and got himself under control again. He began to speak with icy
calmness, and his words fell like freezing raindrops into Cooper's mind.
`Think of them up there,' he said, waving his hand upwards to the unseen Earth. `Six billion of
them, packed on to land which isn't big enough to hold them all. Already they're crowding over into the
sea beds. And here, there are only a hundred thousand of us, on an almost empty world. But a world
where we need years and years of scientific and engineering work just to make life possible; a world
where only a few of the brightest and most intelligent scientists can get a job.
`And now we find that we can live for two hundred years. Imagine how they're going to feel about that news! This is your problem now, Mr Newsman; you've asked for it, and you've got it. Tell me this,
please − I'd really be interested to know − just how are you going to tell them?'
He waited, and waited. Cooper opened his mouth, then closed it again, unable to think of anything
to say.
In the far corner of the room, one of the baby animals began to cry.
____________________________* * * * *___________________________
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