embarking.
While the complex mass of energy-driven proteins and fats constituting their brains held knowledge of the adventure in which they would play their part, their bodies were tense with apprehension. The lunar vehicle pulsed with it. The passengers, men and women, had already exchanged their own currencies for UU tokens. Farewells to families had been made and those embraces were finished with. They had already begun a final departure from Earth.
The Moon was a busy place. The side facing Earth was littered with speedroads and factories and tourist hotels. It was estimated that something close to four million people now lived on the Moon for periods of not more than a statutory ninety daysâa period in which health was not undermined by the light gravity.
Tad Tadl and those who had travelled up with him were lodged in the spartan Adios Hotel, in the city-nexus of Armstrong. Here, meals were graded to become more parsimonious day by day.
Tadâs family had come to say farewell to him and watch the big launch. His two younger brothers were bubbling with excitement and envy. His mother was choking back tears, but complimented him adoringly on his courage. Father, Tadâs beaky-nosed father, had been told not to exercise his disapproval of the entire project. A powerful-looking man, he nevertheless did what his wife told him. âA sad loss to the family, old boy,â was the nearest he got to voicing his feelings. Tad patted his fatherâs back. âI never did please you, pop. Youâll sleep easy once Iâm out the way.â
âIndeed we wonât, love,â said mother. Father said nothing. He blinked rapidly. With the rocket launched, Tadâs mother burst into tears.
And when the crying ceased, her sense of something missing from her life continued.
On Luna, while awaiting the Mars craft in its orbit, the would-be exiles exercised and were lectured to.
Their main lecturer was a plump and cheerful man, by name Morgan Reece. Over his large torso was draped a T-shirt, the message on which read âSAME OLD SHIT? NOâDIFFERENT SHITâ.
âYes, Iâm lucky Morgan Reece, and I will retain both parts of my name,â he said. âYou will all lose your surname; some may be given new names assigned by computer, the easier to keep tabs on you in your new existence. Also, this way, you are less likely to think of your families. Homesickness doesnât pay off. Youâll be on your way to Mars within the week, when your birth names will remain behind as kind of ghost-memories of your earthly existence.
âThat goes for you too, Tompkins, dear â¦
âRight now, Iâm taking the opportunity to tell you about things which you may already know. Bear with me.
âI will start by quoting a twentieth century philosopher, Bertram Russellâwho has left both his names behind. The good Bertram said, âMan is the product of causes which had no prevision of the end they were achievingâ. Quite so. Otherwise, we might fly to the planets on gossamer wings. As it is, we are flying blind, evolution-wise. Donât imagine further development has come to a grinding halt, because that just ainât how the system works.
âOne of the reasons you lot are schlepping off to Mars is because you can no longer bear to believe in things that just ainât so. Unlike most of the nutcases around here.
â Someone died for our sins over two thousand years ago. Well, that one hasnât worked out, has it?
âThink big. You already think big in confronting a perilous trip into unknown difficulties. I hope to add to your stature by talking about the universe itself. Mind and intelligence are under threat. China has to confront nuclear aggression from North Korea. Ingushetia has been reduced to ruin. The Libyans have accidentally blown themselves upâcould happen to anyone, provided they were stupid enough. The lovely island of Bali has become a
While the complex mass of energy-driven proteins and fats constituting their brains held knowledge of the adventure in which they would play their part, their bodies were tense with apprehension. The lunar vehicle pulsed with it. The passengers, men and women, had already exchanged their own currencies for UU tokens. Farewells to families had been made and those embraces were finished with. They had already begun a final departure from Earth.
The Moon was a busy place. The side facing Earth was littered with speedroads and factories and tourist hotels. It was estimated that something close to four million people now lived on the Moon for periods of not more than a statutory ninety daysâa period in which health was not undermined by the light gravity.
Tad Tadl and those who had travelled up with him were lodged in the spartan Adios Hotel, in the city-nexus of Armstrong. Here, meals were graded to become more parsimonious day by day.
Tadâs family had come to say farewell to him and watch the big launch. His two younger brothers were bubbling with excitement and envy. His mother was choking back tears, but complimented him adoringly on his courage. Father, Tadâs beaky-nosed father, had been told not to exercise his disapproval of the entire project. A powerful-looking man, he nevertheless did what his wife told him. âA sad loss to the family, old boy,â was the nearest he got to voicing his feelings. Tad patted his fatherâs back. âI never did please you, pop. Youâll sleep easy once Iâm out the way.â
âIndeed we wonât, love,â said mother. Father said nothing. He blinked rapidly. With the rocket launched, Tadâs mother burst into tears.
And when the crying ceased, her sense of something missing from her life continued.
On Luna, while awaiting the Mars craft in its orbit, the would-be exiles exercised and were lectured to.
Their main lecturer was a plump and cheerful man, by name Morgan Reece. Over his large torso was draped a T-shirt, the message on which read âSAME OLD SHIT? NOâDIFFERENT SHITâ.
âYes, Iâm lucky Morgan Reece, and I will retain both parts of my name,â he said. âYou will all lose your surname; some may be given new names assigned by computer, the easier to keep tabs on you in your new existence. Also, this way, you are less likely to think of your families. Homesickness doesnât pay off. Youâll be on your way to Mars within the week, when your birth names will remain behind as kind of ghost-memories of your earthly existence.
âThat goes for you too, Tompkins, dear â¦
âRight now, Iâm taking the opportunity to tell you about things which you may already know. Bear with me.
âI will start by quoting a twentieth century philosopher, Bertram Russellâwho has left both his names behind. The good Bertram said, âMan is the product of causes which had no prevision of the end they were achievingâ. Quite so. Otherwise, we might fly to the planets on gossamer wings. As it is, we are flying blind, evolution-wise. Donât imagine further development has come to a grinding halt, because that just ainât how the system works.
âOne of the reasons you lot are schlepping off to Mars is because you can no longer bear to believe in things that just ainât so. Unlike most of the nutcases around here.
â Someone died for our sins over two thousand years ago. Well, that one hasnât worked out, has it?
âThink big. You already think big in confronting a perilous trip into unknown difficulties. I hope to add to your stature by talking about the universe itself. Mind and intelligence are under threat. China has to confront nuclear aggression from North Korea. Ingushetia has been reduced to ruin. The Libyans have accidentally blown themselves upâcould happen to anyone, provided they were stupid enough. The lovely island of Bali has become a
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