The sky was cloudless and, in that limpid atmosphere, thousands of stars sparkled, in the midst of which our satellite, illuminated by the Sun, shone with a vivid light.
The moment seemed solemn. Mathieu-Rollère, Dumesnil, the aged emperor and all the witnesses were gripped by a vivid emotion.
At a sign from the old scientist, the emperor, with a rapid gesture, lowered the handle that was to illuminate the ten thousand lamps. Abruptly, they were all ignited, and the beam of light, which no longer lit up a vault of cloud, as it had in the first trials, launched into the sky, tracing a resplendent furrow as far as the eye could follow it.
That monstrous searchlight shone for an hour.
“Our appeal,” said Mathieu-Rollère, joyfully, “will certainly have been perceived by our friends, and we can, I believe, begin sending our telegram without fear.”
And successively, during the five hours that the Moon remained shining over the horizon, each lasting for ten minutes, the letters forming the first message were sent from the Earth to its satellite. That message, a testimony of gratitude and admiration for these who had dared so much, was conceived in these terms:
HONOR TO THE AUDACIOUS VOYAGERS
VI. The Earth has Spoken
Four months had gone by since Marcel, Jacques and Lord Rodilan had perceived the beacon in the Rocky Mountains, and the signals establishing the certainty that correspondence would be established and the hope of its soon becoming complete has never ceased to shine in the darkness of night.
The Englishman mocked. “By God,” they said, “it was hardly worth the trouble of making such a long voyage to arrive at such a meager result. Admit, my dear Marcel, that your conversation with our friends in America is incontestable and rather wearyingly monotonous.”
“Patience, my dear friend,” Marcel murmured.
The three voyagers took advantage of the time when communications were forcibly interrupted in consequence of the relative positions of the two worlds. They traveled through all the regions of the lunar world, carefully studying the fauna and flora, attentively observing mores, penetrating the scientific progress realized by those intelligences of such a high order.
They did not seek to hide the fact that, assured as it was that communications between the worlds would be established, they could never be sufficiently complete and rapid to embrace everything that either party would be interested to know. Thanks to the various books, albums and specimens with which they were equipped, they had already given the inhabitants of the Moon a fairly accurate idea of the history and civilization of their terrestrial siblings. In the same way, when they returned to Earth, they wanted to be able to make known the principle features of the hitherto-unknown humankind in which they had discovered so many brilliant qualities and virtues that had simultaneously charmed their hearts and dazzled their minds.
Marcel and his companions set out to accomplish the necessary work with a feverish activity; they accumulated documents, multiplied the investigations of their research, as if they already sensed that their time was limited and that the moment would soon arrive when, their task concluded, it would be necessary for them to make preparations for a return journey.
That uninterrupted work made waiting less painful.
Every time the respective positions of the two stars permitted signals to be exchanged, they went up to the observatory and, while comparing their notes and arranging their documents, they never ceased to observe Earth’s disk, eager to grasp any new manifestation. Then, when the period of concordance of nights had concluded without bringing anything except the luminous dot still shining on the summit of Long’s Peak, they returned to their studies, saying to one another, not without a sigh: “Next time, no doubt.”
On 20 April the Moon was at the beginning of its first quarter. Faithful to their habit, the three friends arrived at the observatory. As usual, they went in haste to the telescopes aimed at the Earth, and cast a rapid glance over the part plunged in darkness.
“Nothing yet,” said Marcel. “It’s certainly taking a long time.”
Lord Rodilan shrugged his shoulders. “You have a robust faith, Marcel; it’s to acquit my conscience and in order to be agreeable to you I’ve accompanied you thus far, for I’m damned if I think that we’ll any luckier today. For my part, I’m beginning to believe that our friends lack imagination. I’d like them to be a little more prolix.”
In the meantime, Jacques had taken Marcel’s place at the ocular he had just quit.
“Look! Look!” he said, suddenly. And he rubbed his eyes vigorously, as if to see better.
“What is it?” asked Marcel, excitedly.
“Look out there, above the equator. What is it?”
Marcel rushed forward, and Lord Rodilan took up his observation post too.
A luminous dot, of an intensity far superior to the beacon in the Rocky Mountains, was shining in the darkness. Its sustained brightness and fixity removed all possible doubt; it was not a geological phenomenon like the eruption of a volcano, or an accidental one like a vast conflagration; it was obviously the work of human intelligence. What confirmed that opinion was that the nucleus from which the powerful beam was escaping had a regular geometric form; it was a rectangle with neatly-designed sides and angles.
“It’s them, isn’t it?” said Jacques.
“I think so,” said Marcel.
“In truth,” said Lord Rodilan, laughing, “if that’s what we’ve been waiting for all this time, it really wasn’t worth the trouble. A square dot instead of a round one—you can see that they’re not breaking the habit.”
“Whoever lives will see,” said Marcel. “We’ll soon know what we’ve got.”
The mysterious rectangle was still shining.
“But where are they?” Jacques asked.
“That’s easy to determine,” Marcel replied. “You can see that the eastern tip of Brazil hasn’t yet entered into the shadow that reigns over the major part of the Atlantic and the whole of the old continent. We can calculate with the aid of a micrometer”—he was maneuvering the delicate apparatus with which each lunette as equipped as he spoke—“the longitude and latitude of the place where our friends are located. We know that the tip of Brazil near Pernambuco is about 37 degrees west of the Paris meridian. Now, I find about 37 degrees between that point and the point where the signal is lit. On the other hand, following the direction of the terrestrial equator to the extent that the distance permits, I think I can affirm that the latitude of the location is about 35 degrees.”
While he was speaking, Lord Rodilan, poring over a terrestrial planisphere, followed these indications attentively, and in naval terminology, took the bearing.
“Very good,” he exclaimed. “That puts us in the Algerian region, somewhat to the south, between Algiers and Constantine.” In a lower voice, he added: “The fools! Why didn’t they choose Malta or Cyprus? At least England would have had her hand on the key of the communications.”
“You’re truly insatiable, my dear Rodilan,” Marcel retorted. “Isn’t the part of your glorious nation large enough, since you’re with us? You have a foot everywhere, in Europe, Asia, Africa, America and Oceania, and you want to Moon too? For myself, permit me to rejoice in the fact that our friends have chosen a French territory to realize a French idea.” As the Englishman grimaced he added: “Perhaps, in any case, they couldn’t do otherwise; we don’t know what has happened.”
Lord Rodilan was about to reply when Jacques, who had not ceased observing during that brief argument, uttered an exclamation. “Oh! The light has disappeared.”
All three of them resumed their places at the oculars’ of the telescopes.
They did not have to wait for long.
At the place where the luminous rectangle had shone and on the same field that the sheet of light had covered, a flamboyant letter suddenly stood out, which they distinguished immediately.
“An H!” they exclaimed, simultaneously.
“What’s t
hat supposed to mean?” murmured Lord Rodilan.
“It’s obviously he beginning of a word,” said Jacques.
Marcel had taken out his chronometer. “Oh, the worthy fellows,” he said, radiantly. “They’ve improvised a whole alphabet.”
After ten minutes a change took place; the letter O appeared where the letter H had shone before.
“That’s admirable,” said Marcel, who had understood completely, with the practicality of an experienced engineer. “We’re going to see all the letters of the first message exchanged between the worlds succeed one another in the same place.”
As soon as they had observed the presence of the luminous rectangle on the Earth’s surface the news of the event had spread through the whole observatory, and Merovar, its director, had hastened to send a notification to the lunar Head of State, who, as everyone knew, had a keen interest in everything to do with interplanetary communications.
Discreetly, and without any fuss, all those whose rank in the scientific hierarchy permitted it had come into the observation hall, and since the appearance of the first letter had manifested an enthusiasm in their facial expression that only their habitual reserve prevented from being ardent.
The fiery letters succeeded one another every ten minutes without any dissolution of continuity. One might have thought that those who were projecting them across space, knowing that they only had a few hours of darkness at their disposal, were hurrying in order to be able to send their friends a complete thought. After fifty minutes an entire word had been transmitted: HONOR.
As soon as he had understood that it was a matter of a verbal message this time, Merovar had sent that further information to the Supreme Council, and scarcely had the first word launched between worlds arrived on Earth’s satellite that the word in question, reproduced by electric apparatus, was before the eyes of the hastily-convened Supreme Council.
The emotion was intense, for the moment was solemn.
The problem so long pursued by so many generations, thus far at hazard, had finally received a dazzling and definitive solution. Aldeovaze saw the fulfillment of the hopes that the arrival of the inhabitants of Earth had caused him to conceive, and in which he had maintained complete confidence. Henceforth, the two worlds would no longer be strangers to one another in their eternal orbit. They would be united by a common thought, and efforts toward increasingly rapid and more complete development of the spirit of justice and love could be expected of that unanimity.
Meanwhile, on the northern coast of Africa, the magic rectangle was still sending new symbols, and during the five hours that the transmission continued without discontinuity, the entire sentence was seen to unfurl, which made the hearts of Marcel, Jacques and Lord Rodilan beat violently: HONOR TO THE AUDACIOUS VOYAGERS.
Thanks to the rapid means of communication in use in the lunar world, the entire population had been promptly advised of the important event that had just taken place. The emotion had been great, and everyone, from those who were close to the Supreme Council to the Diemides who occupied the lowest ranks in the social hierarchy, waited anxiously for the continuation of a communication of which they evidently only had the first part.
It was, in fact, almost certain that from now on, throughout the period when the part of the moon in which the observatory was located remained in shadow, the friends of the three voyagers would continue to send messages.
As soon as the sentence sent from Earth was complete, as the point from which it had departed was still in darkness, they resolved to light up simultaneously and cause the letters M, J and R to shine without pause. The terrestrial correspondents would thus understand that they had been perceived, and could continue their communications in complete security.
The Head of State, Aldeovaze, had decided to go to the observatory in person in order to collect further manifestations of the sympathy of the two humankinds as soon as they were produced. He also wanted to arrange with Marcel the prompt execution of the measures it would be appropriate to take in order to reply to the distant siblings with the same precision and rapidity.
The members of the Council whose functions did not retain them in the capital—who included Rugel—accompanied him.
The beautiful Orealis and Azali, who had saved the lives and the reason of the three voyagers, one by his science and the other by her devotion, also came in order to witness their triumph, and what was a universal festival of sorts throughout the lunar world was for them a kind of family feast.
It was not without emotion, in such solemn circumstances, that Marcel saw once again the image that he still had in the depths of his heart, but the young woman’s face respired a joy so pure, and there was such honesty and confidence shining in Azali’s gaze that he would have blushed to hesitate on vulgar thoughts unworthy of those generous natures.
The young scientist shook Marcel’s hand effusively, and it was evident that, far from having conceived any sentiment of jealous mistrust toward the engineer, he held him in even higher esteem by virtue of having understood how worthy of being loved his beloved was.
“Friend,” Orealis said to him, with a radiant smile, “I’m very happy today. You have done what I wished; you have conceived and realized great things, and have acquired the right to the eternal gratitude of two humankinds.”
Marcel bowed without making any reply.
The host of eminent visitors filled the observatory with an unaccustomed animation. There was no longer the silent calm appropriate to serious study, but a kind of buzz, in which was revealed, among those serious men, the joy of the great event that had just taken place, and impatience to see it confirmed.
As soon as the rotation of the Earth had brought back into shadow the point on the surface at which the message had appeared the previous day, Aldeovaze wanted to follow the observations that were about to continue with his own eye. And during the four terrestrial nights that followed, the following sentences shone successively on the luminous rectangle, which caused the souls of all of the watchers to vibrate.
First, they read:
GREETINGS TO OUR LUNAR BROTHERS
Then:
THE ENTIRE WORLD IS THINKING ABOUT YOU
Then the urgent appeal:
AWAITING RESPONSE ANXIOUSLY
And finally, Jacques and Marcel were able to read with a profound emotion the two names that, for them, said so much:
MATHIEUROLLERE DUSMESNIL
“Oh, my worthy uncle!” Jacques exclaimed. “I knew that with his indomitable tenacity he’d end up getting in touch with us. But if he’s there, Hélène must be there too.”
And his heart beat forcefully as he pronounced the ever-adored name.
“And my faithful friend Dumesnil,” said Marcel, triumphantly. “If Mathieu-Rollère’s was the guiding will, his has been the arm that it directed. I can see clearly how it must have happened. It’s evidently him who organized the beacon in the Rocky Mountains. It’s him again, I’m sure of it, who devised that luminous rectangle on which all the letters of the alphabet can be displayed in turn: an apparatus as simple as it is practical, of which it was, however, necessary to think.”
“Always the egg of Columbus,” murmured Lord Rodilan. “Oh, the two of you are lucky. Down there, at the other end of the chain of light, you have friends whose heart is beating in unison with yours. I don’t have anyone...”
“What about us?” said Jacques and Marcel, simultaneously, shaking is hand warmly.
“You’re right,” he said. “I’d be an ingrate if I forgot all the evidence of amity you’ve given me.”
For a long time, Rugel and the various members of the Council with whom the three friends had found themselves in communication had known all the details of their lives. They knew who the astronomer Mathieu-Rollère was, and the engineer Dumesnil and the honorable W. Burnett were no longer unknown to them. They had brought the prudent Aldeovaze up to date with all the details of the anterior life of his guests, and they all congratulate Jacques and Marc
el now on being reassured on the count of those who were dear to them. They seemed to recognize themselves, in the two names that had shone in space, those of old friends from whom they had long been separated, and whom they were pleased to encounter again.
If Aldeovaze was impatient finally to consecrate the communications now commenced in a definitive fashion, Marcel was no less so. With the promptitude of intellect that distinguished him, he had soon explained to the scientists around him—whose intelligence had, in any case, anticipated his demonstrations—what the engineer Dumesnil had done, and what he intended to do himself.
“This is a revelation,” he said, “but we need to do even better.”
Immediately, he explained his own plan.
The idea of a rectangle arranged in such a fashion that all the letters could appear there in turn, an instantly, was evidently practical, and he had immediately grasped the mechanism. But he wanted the sentences he would send to Earth, if they were belated, at least to be more complete and more rapid. So he resolved to dispose on the vast plain where he had established his first signals twelve rectangles analogous to the one he had seen functioning before his eyes, which would permit him to depict entire words at a stroke. The majority of those of which our language consists, in fact, are no longer than twelve.25 Nothing prevented, in fact, when dealing with words of one or two syllables, sending more than one at a time.
That plan having been settled, the execution was prompt, and there was soon an extraordinary animation in the plain neighboring the observatory. An army of Diemides, chosen from among those whose habitual labor rendered them most apt for the gigantic task, were agitating and swarming in apparent confusion, in which the most perfect order nevertheless reigned.
Under the direction of the scientists who had taken Marcel’s idea aboard and shared his ardor, clad in the suits already described, they were all deploying a zeal and an activity that would ensure the imminent completion of the work undertaken. Some were leveling the ground, others sealing directly into the rock the stems of powerful electric lamps, and yet others disposing the multiple wires that were all connected to a table situated in the observatory’s great telescope hall.
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