The Moon Moth and Other Stories

by Jack Vance

  Ullward, with a cheerful smile, shook his head. “No sections for me, Lamster Mail. I want to buy the world outright. You set your price; if it’s within reason, I’ll write a check.”

  Mail glanced at him sidewise. “You haven’t even seen the photographs.”

  “True.” In a businesslike voice, Ullward said, “By all means, the photographs.”

  Mail touched the projection button. Landscapes of an unfamiliar wild beauty appeared on the screen. There were mountain crags and roaring rivers, snow-powdered forests, ocean dawns and prairie sunsets, green hillsides, meadows spattered with blossoms, beaches white as milk.

  “Very pleasant,” said Ullward. “Quite nice.” He pulled out his checkbook. “What’s your price?”

  Mail chuckled and shook his head. “I won’t sell. I’m willing to lease off a section—providing my price is met and my rules are agreed to.”

  Ullward sat with compressed lips. He gave his head a quick little jerk. Mail started to rise to his feet.

  “No, no,” said Ullward hastily. “I was merely thinking…Let’s look at the map again.”

  Mail returned the map to the screen. Ullward made careful inspection of the various continents, inquired as to physiography, climate, flora and fauna.

  Finally he made his decision. “I’ll lease Gaea.”

  “No, Lamster Ullward!” declared Mail. “I’m reserving this entire area—from Murky Mountains and the Calliope River east. This western section is open. It’s maybe a little smaller than Atalanta or Persephone, but the climate is warmer.”

  “There aren’t any mountains on the western section,” Ullward protested. “Only these insignificant Rock Castle Crags.”

  “They’re not so insignificant,” said Mail. “You’ve also got the Purple Bird Hills, and down here in the south is Mount Cairasco—a live volcano. What more do you need?”

  Ullward glanced across his ranch. “I’m in the habit of thinking big.”

  “West Gaea is a pretty big chunk of property.”

  “Very well,” said Ullward. “What are your terms?”

  “So far as money goes, I’m not greedy,” Mail said. “For a twenty-year lease: two hundred thousand a year, the first five years in advance.”

  Ullward made a startled protest. “Great guns, Lamster Mail! That’s almost half my income!”

  Mail shrugged. “I’m not trying to get rich. I want to build a lodge for myself. It costs money. If you can’t afford it, I’ll have to speak to someone who can.”

  Ullward said in a nettled voice, “I can afford it, certainly—but my entire ranch here cost less than a million.”

  “Well, either you want it or you don’t,” said Mail. “I’ll tell you my rules, then you can make up your mind.”

  “What rules?” demanded Ullward, his face growing red.

  “They’re simple and their only purpose is to maintain privacy for both of us. First, you have to stay on your own property. No excursions hither and yon on my property. Second, no subleasing. Third, no residents except yourself, your family and your servants. I don’t want any artists’ colony springing up, nor any wild noisy resort atmosphere. Naturally you’re entitled to bring out your guests, but they’ve got to keep to your property just like yourself.”

  He looked sidewise at Ullward’s glum face. “I’m not trying to be tough, Lamster Ullward. Good fences make good neighbors, and it’s better that we have the understanding now than hard words and beam-gun evictions later.”

  “Let me see the photographs again,” said Ullward. “Show me West Gaea.”

  He looked, heaved a deep sigh. “Very well. I agree.”

  The construction crew had departed. Ullward was alone on West Gaea. He walked around the new lodge, taking deep breaths of pure quiet air, thrilling to the absolute solitude and privacy. The lodge had cost a fortune, but how many other people of Earth owned—leased, rather—anything to compare with this?

  He walked out on the front terrace, gazed proudly across miles—genuine unsimulated miles—of landscape. For his home site, he had selected a shelf in the foothills of the Ullward Range (as he had renamed the Purple Bird Hills). In front spread a great golden savannah dotted with blue-green trees; behind rose a tall gray cliff.

  A stream rushed down a cleft in the rock, leaping, splashing, cooling the air, finally flowing into a beautiful clear pool, beside which Ullward had erected a cabana of red, green and brown plastic. At the base of the cliff and in crevices grew clumps of spiky blue cactus, lush green bushes covered with red trumpet-flowers, a thick-leafed white plant holding up a stalk clustered with white bubbles.

  Solitude! The real thing! No thumping of factories, no roar of traffic two feet from one’s bed. One arm outstretched, the other pressed to his chest, Ullward performed a stately little jig of triumph on the terrace. Had he been able, he might have turned a cartwheel. When a person has complete privacy, absolutely nothing is forbidden!

  Ullward took a final turn up and down the terrace, made a last appreciative survey of the horizon. The sun was sinking through banks of fire-fringed clouds. Marvelous depth of color, a tonal brilliance to be matched only in the very best illusion-panes!

  He entered the lodge, made a selection from the nutrition locker. After a leisurely meal, he returned to the lounge. He stood thinking for a moment, then went out upon the terrace, strolled up and down. Wonderful! The night was full of stars, hanging like blurred white lamps, almost as he had always imagined them.

  After ten minutes of admiring the stars, he returned into the lodge. Now what? The wall-screen, with its assortment of recorded programs. Snug and comfortable, Ullward watched the performance of a recent musical comedy.

  Real luxury, he told himself. Pity he couldn’t invite his friends out to spend the evening. Unfortunately impossible, considering the inconvenient duration of the trip between Mail’s Planet and Earth. However—only three days until the arrival of his first guest. She was Elf Intry, a young woman who had been more than friendly with Ullward on Earth. When Elf arrived, Ullward would broach a subject which he had been mulling over for several months—indeed, ever since he had first learned of Mail’s Planet.

  Elf Intry arrived early in the afternoon, coming down to Mail’s Planet in a capsule discharged from the weekly Outer Ring Express packet. A woman of normally good disposition, she greeted Ullward in a seethe of indignation. “Just who is that brute around the other side of the planet? I thought you had absolute privacy here!”

  “That’s just old Mail,” said Ullward evasively. “What’s wrong?”

  “The fool on the packet set me the wrong coordinates and the capsule came down on a beach. I noticed a house and then I saw a naked man jumping rope behind some bushes. I thought it was you, of course. I went over and said ‘Boo!’ You should have heard the language he used!” She shook her head. “I don’t see why you allow such a boor on your planet.”

  The buzzer on the communication screen sounded. “That’s Mail now,” said Ullward. “You wait here. I’ll tell him how to speak to my guests!”

  He presently returned to the terrace. Elf came over to him, kissed his nose. “Ully, you’re pale with rage! I hope you didn’t lose your temper.”

  “No,” said Ullward. “We merely—well, we had an understanding. Come along, look over the property.”

  He took Elf around to the back, pointing out the swimming pool, the waterfall, the mass of rock above. “You won’t see that effect on any illusion-pane! That’s genuine rock!”

  “Lovely, Ully. Very nice. The color might be just a trifle darker, though. Rock doesn’t look like that.”

  “No?” Ullward inspected the cliff more critically. “Well, I can’t do anything about it. How about the privacy?”

  “Wonderful! It’s so quiet, it’s almost eerie!”

  “Eerie?” Ullward looked around the landscape. “It hadn’t occurred to me.”

  “You’re not sensitive to these things, Ully. Still, it’s very nice, if you can tolerate that un
pleasant creature Mail so close.”

  “Close?” protested Ullward. “He’s on the other side of the continent!”

  “True,” said Elf. “It’s all relative, I suppose. How long do you expect to stay out here?”

  “That depends. Come along inside. I want to talk with you.”

  He seated her in a comfortable chair, brought her a globe of Gluco-Fructoid Nectar. For himself, he mixed ethyl alcohol, water, a few drops of Haig’s Oldtime Esters.

  “Elf, where do you stand in the reproduction list?”

  She raised her fine eyebrows, shook her head. “So far down, I’ve lost count. Fifty or sixty billion.”

  “I’m down thirty-seven billion. It’s one reason I bought this place. Waiting list, piffle! Nobody stops Bruham Ullward’s breeding on his own planet!”

  Elf pursed her lips, shook her head sadly. “It won’t work, Ully.”

  “And why not?”

  “You can’t take the children back to Earth. The list would keep them out.”

  “True, but think of living here, surrounded by children. All the children you wanted! And utter privacy to boot! What more could you ask for?”

  Elf sighed. “You fabricate a beautiful illusion-pane, Ully. But I think not. I love the privacy and solitude—but I thought there’d be more people to be private from.”

  The Outer Ring Express packet came past four days later. Elf kissed Ullward good-bye. “It’s simply exquisite here, Ully. The solitude is so magnificent, it gives me gooseflesh. I’ve had a wonderful visit.” She climbed into the capsule. “See you on Earth.”

  “Just a minute,” said Ullward suddenly. “I want you to post a letter or two for me.”

  “Hurry. I’ve only got twenty minutes.”

  Ullward was back in ten minutes. “Invitations,” he told her breathlessly. “Friends.”

  “Right.” She kissed his nose. “Good-bye, Ully.” She slammed the port; the capsule rushed away, whirling up to meet the packet.

  The new guests arrived three weeks later: Frobisher Worbeck, Liornetta Stobart, Harris and Hyla Cabe, Ted and Ravelin and Iugenae Seehoe, Juvenal Aquister and his son Runy.

  Ullward, brown from long days of lazing in the sun, greeted them with great enthusiasm. “Welcome to my little retreat! Wonderful to see you all! Frobisher, you pink-cheeked rascal! And Iugenae! Prettier than ever! Be careful, Ravelin—I’ve got my eye on your daughter! But Runy’s here, guess I’m out of the picture! Liornetta, damned glad you could make it! And Ted! Great to see you, old chap! This is all your doing, you know! Harris, Hyla, Juvenal—come on up! We’ll have a drink, a drink, a drink!”

  Running from one to the other, patting arms, herding the slow-moving Frobisher Worbeck, he conducted his guests up the slope to the terrace. Here they turned to survey the panorama. Ullward listened to their remarks, mouth pursed against a grin of gratification.

  “Magnificent!”

  “Grand!”

  “Absolutely genuine!”

  “The sky is so far away, it frightens me!”

  “The sunlight’s so pure!”

  “The genuine thing’s always best, isn’t it?”

  Runy said a trifle wistfully, “I thought you were on a beach, Lamster Ullward.”

  “Beach? This is mountain country, Runy. Land of the wide open spaces! Look out over that plain!”

  Liornetta Stobart patted Runy’s shoulder. “Not every planet has beaches, Runy. The secret of happiness is to be content with what one has.”

  Ullward laughed gaily. “Oh, I’ve got beaches, never fear for that! There’s a fine beach—ha, ha—five hundred miles due west. Every step Ullward domain!”

  “Can we go?” asked Iugenae excitedly. “Can we go, Lamster Ullward?”

  “We certainly can! That shed down the slope is headquarters for the Ullward Airlines. We’ll fly to the beach, swim in Ullward Ocean! But now refreshment! After that crowded capsule, your throats must be like paper!”

  “It wasn’t too crowded,” said Ravelin Seehoe. “There were only nine of us.” She looked critically up at the cliff. “If that were an illusion-pane, I’d consider it grotesque.”

  “My dear Ravelin!” cried Ullward. “It’s impressive! Magnificent!”

  “All of that,” agreed Frobisher Worbeck, a tall sturdy man, white-haired, red-jowled, with a blue benevolent gaze. “And now, Bruham, what about those drinks?”

  “Of course! Ted, I know you of old. Will you tend bar? Here’s the alcohol, here’s water, here are the esters. Now, you two,” Ullward called to Runy and Iugenae. “How about some nice cold soda pop?”

  “What kind is there?” asked Runy.

  “All kinds, all flavors. This is Ullward’s Retreat! We’ve got methylamyl glutamine, cycloprodacterol phosphate, metathiobromine-4-glycocitrose…”

  Runy and Iugenae expressed their preferences; Ullward brought the globes, then hurried to arrange tables and chairs for the adults. Presently everyone was comfortable and relaxed.

  Iugenae whispered to Ravelin, who smiled and nodded indulgently. “Lamster Ullward, you remember the beautiful oak leaf you gave Iugenae?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “It’s still as fresh and green as ever. I wonder if Iugenae might have a leaf or two from some of these other trees?”

  “My dear Ravelin!” Ullward roared with laughter. “She can have an entire tree!”

  “Oh Mother! Can—”

  “Iugenae, don’t be ridiculous!” snapped Ted. “How could we get it home? Where would we plant the thing? In the bathroom?”

  Ravelin said, “You and Runy find some nice leaves, but don’t wander too far.”

  “No, Mother.” She beckoned to Runy. “Come along, dope. Bring a basket.”

  The others of the party gazed out over the plain. “A beautiful view, Ullward,” said Frobisher Worbeck. “How far does your property extend?”

  “Five hundred miles west to the ocean, six hundred miles east to the mountains, eleven hundred miles north and two hundred miles south.”

  Worbeck shook his head solemnly. “Nice. A pity you couldn’t get the whole planet. Then you’d have real privacy!”

  “I tried, of course,” said Ullward. “The owner refused to consider the idea.”

  “A pity.”

  Ullward brought out a map. “However, as you see, I have a fine volcano, a number of excellent rivers, a mountain range, and down here on the delta of Cinnamon River an absolutely miasmic swamp.”

  Ravelin pointed to the ocean. “Why, it’s Lonesome Ocean! I thought the name was Ullward Ocean.”

  Ullward laughed uncomfortably. “Just a figure of speech—so to speak. My rights extend ten miles. More than enough for swimming purposes.”

  “No freedom of the seas here, eh, Lamster Ullward?” laughed Harris Cabe.

  “Not exactly,” confessed Ullward.

  “A pity,” said Frobisher Worbeck.

  Hyla Cabe pointed to the map. “Look at these wonderful mountain ranges! The Magnificent Mountains! And over here—the Elysian Gardens! I’d love to see them, Lamster Ullward.”

  Ullward shook his head in embarrassment. “Impossible, I’m afraid. They’re not on my property. I haven’t even seen them myself.”

  His guests stared at him in astonishment. “But surely—”

  “It’s an atom-welded contract with Lamster Mail,” Ullward explained. “He stays on his property, I stay on mine. In this way, our privacy is secure.”

  “Look,” Hyla Cabe said aside to Ravelin. “The Unimaginable Caverns! Doesn’t it make you simply wild not to be able to see them?”

  Aquister said hurriedly, “It’s a pleasure to sit here and just breathe this wonderful fresh air. No noise, no crowds, no bustle or hurry…”

  The party drank and chatted and basked in the sunshine until late afternoon. Enlisting the aid of Ravelin Seehoe and Hyla Cabe, Ullward set out a simple meal of yeast pellets, processed protein, thick slices of algae crunch.

  “No animal flesh, cooked vegetati
on?” questioned Worbeck curiously.

  “Tried them the first day,” said Ullward. “Revolting. Sick for a week.”

  After dinner, the guests watched a comic melodrama on the wall-screen. Then Ullward showed them to their various cubicles, and after a few minutes of badinage and calling back and forth, the lodge became quiet.

  Next day, Ullward ordered his guests into their bathing suits. “We’re off to the beach, we’ll gambol on the sand, we’ll frolic in the surf of Lonesome Ullward Ocean!”

  The guests piled happily into the air-car. Ullward counted heads. “All aboard! We’re off!”

  They rose and flew west, first low over the plain, then high into the air, to obtain a panoramic view of the Rock Castle Crags.

  “The tallest peak—there to the north—is almost ten thousand feet high. Notice how it juts up, just imagine the mass! Solid rock! How’d you like that dropped on your toe, Runy? Not so good, eh? In a moment, we’ll see a precipice over a thousand feet straight up and down. There—now! Isn’t that remarkable?”

  “Certainly impressive,” agreed Ted.

  “What those Magnificent Mountains must be like!” said Harris Cabe with a wry laugh.

  “How tall are they, Lamster Ullward?” inquired Liornetta Stobart.

  “What? Which?”

  “The Magnificent Mountains.”

  “I don’t know for sure. Thirty or forty thousand feet, I suppose.”

  “What a marvelous sight they must be!” said Frobisher Worbeck. “Probably make these look like foothills.”

  “These are beautiful too,” Hyla Cabe put in hastily.

  “Oh, naturally,” said Frobisher Worbeck. “A damned fine sight! You’re a lucky man, Bruham!”

  Ullward laughed shortly, turned the air-car west. They flew across a rolling forested plain and presently Lonesome Ocean gleamed in the distance. Ullward slanted down, landed the air-car on the beach, and the party alighted.

  The day was warm, the sun hot. A fresh wind blew in from the ocean. The surf broke upon the sand in massive roaring billows.