to Jamie. Human waiters in dark jackets moved among the tables, together with flat-topped little robots that carried the food and drinks.
“Big day tomorrow.” Vijay smiled brightly, trying to make it sound cheerful.
“Right,” Jamie agreed. Inwardly he wondered what it was going to be like seeing Edith again.
Once they had ordered and the human waiter was walking away from their table, Jamie started to say, “Um, Vijay, you know that Edith and I. . .”
“I know,” she said, her dark eyes on him. “You told me years ago.”
“I haven’t seen her since then,” he muttered. “I wonder what she’s like now.”
“We’ll soon find out, won’t we, love?”
SELENE: STAVENGER RESIDENCE
Like almost all of Selene, the home of Douglas Stavenger was in one of the underground corridors that made up most of the city. Up on the airless surface of the Moon, temperatures could swing from two hundred degrees above zero in sunlight to nearly two hundred below in shadow. Hard radiation from deep space bathed the barren lunar surface, and a constant infall of micrometeoroids peppered the ground, sandpapering the mountains over eons of time into tired, rounded humps.
Underground was safer, the deeper the better.
“I couldn’t live here,” Vijay said, frowning slightly as she and Jamie walked along the corridor, following the path mapped out on his pocket phone.
“You said that before,” Jamie reminded her.
“Yes, but now I’m certain of it.”
“You lived on Mars,” he said.
“But there we had a dome, we could move around, we could look outside. We could work outside—”
“In spacesuits. Or in an enclosed tractor.”
“But it wasn’t like this. . . . This is like being a mole or a wombat, living in tunnels.” She shuddered with distaste.
Eying a trio of coverall-clad people coming up the corridor toward them, Jamie half-whispered, “Better not let them know how much you don’t like it here.”
Vijay smiled at them as they approached. They noted Jamie’s western-cut shirt and jeans, the colorful scarf Vijay wore knotted at her throat over her poppy red blouse.
“Can we help you?” one of the men asked.
Jamie said, “I think we’re in the right corridor. Level four, corridor A?”
The man nodded, smiling. “Looking for Doug Stavenger’s place? It’s right down the corridor.” He pointed.
Jamie thanked them and they went their separate ways.
Vijay shook her head. “I don’t understand how they can live like this. It’s so completely . . . artificial.”
“Maybe we ought to ask Dex how he does it.”
“Dex lives in Boston.”
“He spends a lot of time in New York. That’s a completely artificial environment, too.”
“At least you can walk out in the open.”
“If you’re carrying a weapon,” Jamie countered.
At last they came to a plain door, no different from the others spaced along the corridor, except that it was marked STAVENGER.
“This is it,” Jamie said, taking in a breath. Edith’s in there, he thought. I wonder—
The door opened before he could find a buzzer to push. A solidly built young-looking man smiled at them. His face was handsome, his skin darker than Jamie’s, lighter than Vijay’s. Jamie realized that he was taller and wider of shoulder than himself, but his compact physique disguised his true size. He was wearing a soft velour pullover of deep blue and comfortable light gray slacks.
He smiled and put out his hand. “Welcome. I’m Douglas Stavenger.”
His grip was warm, strong without being overpowering.
“Jamie Waterman,” he introduced himself. “This is my wife, Vijay.”
“Come on in,” said Stavenger, with an ushering swoop of his arm.
They stepped into an unpretentious living room tastefully furnished with a pair of sofas facing each other, an oval metal coffee table between them. A pair of cushioned armchairs were placed on either end of the low table. The floor was carpeted, grass green. The pictures on the wall looked
“Big day tomorrow.” Vijay smiled brightly, trying to make it sound cheerful.
“Right,” Jamie agreed. Inwardly he wondered what it was going to be like seeing Edith again.
Once they had ordered and the human waiter was walking away from their table, Jamie started to say, “Um, Vijay, you know that Edith and I. . .”
“I know,” she said, her dark eyes on him. “You told me years ago.”
“I haven’t seen her since then,” he muttered. “I wonder what she’s like now.”
“We’ll soon find out, won’t we, love?”
SELENE: STAVENGER RESIDENCE
Like almost all of Selene, the home of Douglas Stavenger was in one of the underground corridors that made up most of the city. Up on the airless surface of the Moon, temperatures could swing from two hundred degrees above zero in sunlight to nearly two hundred below in shadow. Hard radiation from deep space bathed the barren lunar surface, and a constant infall of micrometeoroids peppered the ground, sandpapering the mountains over eons of time into tired, rounded humps.
Underground was safer, the deeper the better.
“I couldn’t live here,” Vijay said, frowning slightly as she and Jamie walked along the corridor, following the path mapped out on his pocket phone.
“You said that before,” Jamie reminded her.
“Yes, but now I’m certain of it.”
“You lived on Mars,” he said.
“But there we had a dome, we could move around, we could look outside. We could work outside—”
“In spacesuits. Or in an enclosed tractor.”
“But it wasn’t like this. . . . This is like being a mole or a wombat, living in tunnels.” She shuddered with distaste.
Eying a trio of coverall-clad people coming up the corridor toward them, Jamie half-whispered, “Better not let them know how much you don’t like it here.”
Vijay smiled at them as they approached. They noted Jamie’s western-cut shirt and jeans, the colorful scarf Vijay wore knotted at her throat over her poppy red blouse.
“Can we help you?” one of the men asked.
Jamie said, “I think we’re in the right corridor. Level four, corridor A?”
The man nodded, smiling. “Looking for Doug Stavenger’s place? It’s right down the corridor.” He pointed.
Jamie thanked them and they went their separate ways.
Vijay shook her head. “I don’t understand how they can live like this. It’s so completely . . . artificial.”
“Maybe we ought to ask Dex how he does it.”
“Dex lives in Boston.”
“He spends a lot of time in New York. That’s a completely artificial environment, too.”
“At least you can walk out in the open.”
“If you’re carrying a weapon,” Jamie countered.
At last they came to a plain door, no different from the others spaced along the corridor, except that it was marked STAVENGER.
“This is it,” Jamie said, taking in a breath. Edith’s in there, he thought. I wonder—
The door opened before he could find a buzzer to push. A solidly built young-looking man smiled at them. His face was handsome, his skin darker than Jamie’s, lighter than Vijay’s. Jamie realized that he was taller and wider of shoulder than himself, but his compact physique disguised his true size. He was wearing a soft velour pullover of deep blue and comfortable light gray slacks.
He smiled and put out his hand. “Welcome. I’m Douglas Stavenger.”
His grip was warm, strong without being overpowering.
“Jamie Waterman,” he introduced himself. “This is my wife, Vijay.”
“Come on in,” said Stavenger, with an ushering swoop of his arm.
They stepped into an unpretentious living room tastefully furnished with a pair of sofas facing each other, an oval metal coffee table between them. A pair of cushioned armchairs were placed on either end of the low table. The floor was carpeted, grass green. The pictures on the wall looked
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