“Our destination is the north of the hemisphere that faces the Revolver, in order to witness the spectacle of the full Earth, seen from your globe.
“And in addition,” cried Jonathan Farenheit, mingling Selenite idioms with his native tongue and French phrases in his haste, “we want to recover the track of an inhabitant of Earth whom we assume to have fallen in the other hemisphere.”
The Selenite made a gesture of alarm. “If he has fallen in the other hemisphere,” he said, “he must be dead.”
“Dead!” groaned the American, shaking his fists furiously. “The bandit will escape me, then? In any case, I need to be certain of it, and until I’ve seen his corpse…”
After a few seconds of silence, the Selenite added: “The excursion that you wish to attempt, into the hemisphere from which the Revolver can be seen, like a vast and tremulous celestial clock, is impossible.”
“Impossible!” exclaimed Ossipoff. “And why is that?”
“Because a formidable belt of mountainous rocks separates the two hemispheres of the Moon, and many obstacles will prevent you from reaching that part of the world: an absolutely arid, sterile and abandoned continent, where you will only find vestiges of what were once flourishing cities, where nothing grows and it impossible to live—even for us, whose constitution is adapted to the rarefaction of the air.”
“There’s no air!” cried Gontran. He turned to Ossipoff and added: “Then we’re all mistaken—my celebrated namesake, you and me…” He had pronounced the last few words with an aplomb that made Fricoulet smile.
The old scientist reflected momentarily. “There’s certainly a great exaggeration in what the Selenite has just said,” he remarked. “Perhaps there isn’t a sufficient quantity of air to support life…but however little there is, we’ll make do with it.”
Jonathan Farenheit’s eyes widened immeasurably. “We can’t live without breathing,” he muttered.
“Eh? Who told you that?” replied Ossipoff, with a gesture of impatience. “Don’t we have provisions on liquid air and apparatus?”
Gontran looked anxiously at Selena. “Even so,” he objected, “if there are grave dangers to be run, perhaps it would be preferable to abandon the excursion.”
The old scientist folded his arms across his chest. “And how shall we continue our voyage then?” he asked.
“What does the exploration of the Moon have to do with our interplanetary excursion?”
“The spectroscope has revealed on the surface of the Moon, not far from the pole, a deposit of a precious mineral, which is the sole means by which we can launch ourselves into space again…but if you’re afraid of something, stay here—I’ll go alone.”
“You shall not go alone, Monsieur Ossipoff!” cried Farenheit. “I shall go with you, and while you search for your mineral, I shall search for that bandit Sharp.” He underlined his statement with a forceful gesture.
Gontran protested: “It’s not for myself that I fear the dangers or the fatigues of the journey,” he replied, “but for Mademoiselle Ossipoff.”
The young woman thanked him with a smile. “Thank you, my dear Gontran,” she said, “but I’m not afraid; wherever my father goes, I’ll go with him.”
There was a pause, of which the Selenite took advantage to ask: “Are you quite familiar with the selenographic conformation of the lunar disk on which you are presently standing?”
“Quite familiar is perhaps not the exact expression…at any rate, I’m less familiar with it than the other hemisphere.
“The other hemisphere!” repeated the Selenite, in amazement.
“Yes, the visible hemisphere.”
“That’s not credible.”
Ossipoff then set before the indigene’s eyes a recent lunar photograph obtained by the skill of the celebrated American astronomer Rutherfurd.65 The Selenite’s astonishment was prodigious. “But how were you able to compile this map,” he murmured, “since you have never set foot on our planet?”
Ossipoff attempted to explain to the Selenite, briefly, what the photograph was; then he added: “If you were able to give us a guide, however…?”
“Telinga will accompany you.”
“And when shall we depart?”
“Tomorrow, at sunrise.”
Ossipoff was about to leave the room when Fricoulet turned back and asked: “What means of locomotion shall we employ?”
“They will differ according to the itinerary that you adopt, and according to the rapidity with which you want to travel.”
After going to the vehicle to obtain a generous provision of comestibles to provide for their nourishment, the voyagers were ready to launch themselves into new adventures and to brave new dangers. As the first rays of sunlight gilded the summits of the crater that served as their refuge, Telinga came into their room. Seeing their luggage attached to their shoulders, he made a sign bidding them to follow him and set off along the underground route by which they had arrived.
Fortunately, Fricoulet, who thought of everything, had brought a Trouvé electric lamp with him, so he only had to press a button to illuminate the dark and tortuous tunnel through which the little company was moving.
Ossipoff, who was holding the map that he had drawn of this hemisphere of the Moon, asked: “Where are we going?”
“Directly to Chuir, a big city situated at the confluence of the river To,” replied the Selenite.
“But by what route?” asked the old man.
“You’ll know that in a few moments,” Telinga replied, laconically.
At this location the crater abruptly widened out in an immense truncated cone whose jagged summit rose at least 1000 feet into the air. The tunnel ended in a sort of hall measuring almost a kilometer square, lit by sunlight falling from the orifice of the crater. The Selenite, to whom the place was perfectly familiar, uttered a shout that awoke sonorous and prolonged echoes in the interior of the volcano. In response to this summons a vague form emerged from the shadows, which Ossipoff soon recognized as the silhouette of a Selenite. Telinga advanced to meet the other, spent a few moments in conversation, then retraced his steps. “In an hour,” he said, “we’ll be in Chuir.”
The scientists consulted his map and released an exclamation of surprise. “But that’s more than 400 versts from here,” he said. “Have you a means of rapid locomotion at your disposal, then?”
“Perhaps they have railways on the Moon,” murmured Gontran.
Jonathan Farenheit shrugged his shoulders and muttered: “Even if they have, it wouldn’t be possible to travel such a distance in an hour. The train from New York to San Francisco would only get a quarter as far.” And he added, proudly: “And that’s the fastest train in the entire world.”
On hearing Ossipoff’s question, the Selenite had shaken his head. “We are going to Chuir,” it said, “by the underground way, but without any force transporting us. The distance is too short for us to have recourse to any but natural means.”
The Terrans’ astonishment was transformed into bewilderment.
“But then…?” murmured Fricoulet.
He did not finish his sentence. In the middle of the vast hall, emerging from an underground passage, an apparatus had just emerged, as if by magic, sliding noiselessly through the cracks in the lava. It was a sort of boat mounted on skis.
Silently, Telinga ushered his companions to this strange vehicle and they sat down one by one on a bench running along its flank. Then he assumed a standing position at the front, setting his hand on a metal lever.
The Selenite that had brought the vehicle pushed it, without any apparent effort, to the entrance of an underground tunnel, where he abandoned it. Then, as if drawn forward by an invisible force of extraordinary power, the vehicle silently moved into the darkness, with ever-increasing speed.
“I get it,” said Fricoulet to his friends. “We’re presently sliding down an inclined plane…”
“But we can’t go downhill all the time,” Gontran objected, “or we�
�d end up at the center of the Moon instead of staying on the surface.”
The young engineer reflected momentarily. “This tunnel,” he said, finally, “probably consists of a series of undulations, similar to the fairground ride known as a roller-coaster.66 When the vehicle has acquired sufficient momentum on a downslope, the curvature probably reverses, then goes down again, and so on, until we arrive.”
“Do you think, Monsieur Fricoulet,” asked Selena, “that this roller-coaster system could prevail over long distances?”
“I don’t see anything against it, provided that the point of departure has sufficient elevation—which would be minimal, by reason of the insignificance of friction.”
“In that case,” murmured Flammermont, “what will become of steam and electricity?”
The engineer added, in the Selenite language: “If this tunnel is 100 leagues long, its construction is certainly a marvel.”
“The tunnel,” Telinga replied, “was not constructed by our hands; it is simply a natural tube pierced through the underground strata by lava, in the epoch when the lunar world vomited forth its burning entrails through the multitudinous mouths of its volcanoes. These fissures are numerous in our world; that’s why we thought of utilizing them to establish communications between our various centers.”
“That’s marvelous,” murmured Ossipoff, ecstatically.
“The unfortunate thing,” Gontran said, “is that the route isn’t illuminated. A pair of lanterns wouldn’t spoil the look of our carriage.”
The Selenite, who had the faculty of seeing in the dark, did not understand the Terrans’ horror of darkness; fortunately, Fricoulet had his Trouvé lamp, which ‘split the blackness’ and permitted the voyagers to examine the path they were following as best they could. Soon, though, the speed of the vehicle became excessive, for the slope of the path, far from becoming gentler, became even steeper. They were also obliged to turn their backs on the impetuous current of air that was blowing in their faces, through which the vessel flew like an arrow.
“We’re going at nearly 100 meters a second,” murmured Ossipoff.
Selena, gripped by vertigo, had hidden her face against her father’s breast. Gontran leaned over the side, rolling his eyes anxiously, and Farenheit affected an impassivity belied by the pallor of his cheeks and the quivering of his lips.
Only Fricoulet was perfectly calm; while taking precautions against the possibility of choking, he carefully examined the route the vehicle was following. Suddenly, he cried: “That’s definitely it—it’s definitely a roller-coaster system. We’re climbing again now. Can you feel our speed decreasing? We’re only making further progress by virtue of the momentum acquired during the descent, which will decrease until the moment when the vehicle comes to a stop for lack of force.”
“Will we arrive soon?” asked Farenheit.
The engineer consulted his watch. “Telinga mentioned an hour,” he replied, “and it’s now 50 minutes since we set off. We’re probably nearly there.” And he extended his hand towards a luminous point that appeared in the distance, which rapidly grew in size.
Then the Selenite pressed down on the lever that he held in his hand, and their speed relented further until the moment when they emerged into a crater identical to the one they had left. “Chuir,” he said, laconically, indicating the crater.
The travelers got down and followed their guide into a short corridor that led them, in a matter of minutes, to a circus of greater size, broadly illuminated by sunlight.
“A city—this!” exclaimed Farenehiet, pivoting on his heels and widening his eyes. “Damned if I can see a single habitation or inhabitant.”
The Selenite smiled. “All the habitations,” he said, “are hollowed out in the sides of the mountain. You can make out a great many fissures in the rock, which permit the free penetration of air and sunlight—when the star is shining—but which are closed during the 354-hour night.”
“But the map indicates that a river passes through Chuir,” Ossipoff observed.
“Certainly; we shall walk to it, for we need to embark there to reach Rouarthwer.”
“On the shore of the Central Sea?” asked the scientist, after consulting the map.
“Indeed—and from there we shall go to Maoulideck, the most important city on the Moon, inhabited by several million Selenites, and from which the Revolver is sometimes visible.”
“Is it on the other hemisphere, then?” Gontran asked.
“No,” said Ossipoff, “but it’s located in the libration zone.”
Ah,” said the young man, as if that reply were satisfactory to him. He let Ossipoff take the lead with Telinga, who was giving him details of the region. Slowing his own steps, he joined Fricoulet. “Libration,” he murmured. “What’s that?”
“For an astronomer, my poor friend,” said the engineer, “you don’t know anything about anything. Well, what’s meant by the term libration is an inherent wobbling of the Moon that sometimes allows us to see a little more of its left side, sometimes a little of its right side and sometimes a little beyond its superior or inferior pole.”
Meanwhile, they had arrived at a river, which bore a few bizarre constructions that had nothing in common with European boats, but which navigated against the current with a marvelous rapidity. They were reminiscent of buoys about ten meters wide, seemingly devoid of any kind of motor or propeller.
At first, Fricoulet was amazed. Are we going to board one of those? he thought. He was not mistaken. Telinga having shouted a summons, one of these singular machines approached the shore, without any pilot becoming visible. The Selenite got down first, sat down on the ring and invited his companions to join him. Then a there was a whistling sound; the water bubbled momentarily and the vessel drew away rapidly. Inevitably, they had scarcely got under way when Fricoulet asked Telinga to explain the surprising phenomenon by which the curious construction could advance at such a prodigious speed.
“By the simplest means,” replied the Selenite, “and if you wish to take account yourself of what you call the works…”
He took the young man down into the hold, where a pump activated by a motor was taking in water through a tube at the front to expel it at the rear.
“Indeed,” murmured the engineer, with a pitying smile, “nothing is simpler.” And he added, seeing the banks flee into the distance behind the rapidly-moving boat: “And it works!”
It worked so well that after a day’s navigation, the travelers arrived in Rouarthwer.
“Here,” said Telinga, “we shall halt for a while to allow you to rest, then we shall resume our journey.”
“That’s an excellent idea,” said Flammermont, “for it’s been too long since I had a substantial meal, prepared by Mademoiselle Selena’s white hands. Besides, I’m not disposed to imitate the Sun, which doesn’t go to bed for 354 hours. Since early infancy I’ve developed the habit of sleeping every 12 hours, and it’s now nearly 16 that we’ve been on foot, so I propose we postpone the continuation of our journey until tomorrow.”
Everyone shared this opinion; they dined copiously on the provisions they had brought from the Terran vehicle and slept in a compartment of the boat, which went on to Maoulideck without stopping again.
The following day—or, at least, 12 hours after going to sleep—when the travelers woke up, the boat was within sight of the capital of the Moon, the only place with habitations that were not hollowed out like moles’ burrows but authentic houses, of a bizarre and veritably lunar architecture.
“Here are folk,” murmured Flammermont, “who’ve certainly passed through the Polytechnique or the Centrale—what do you think, Alcide?” And the young Comte directed his friend’s attention to an agglomeration of gigantic curvilinear figures, ranging from the cylindrical to the spherical.
“All the masons that have worked in this city,” the engineer replied, “have been Xs,67 that’s for sure.”
“At any rate,” Gontran said, “they aren’t from the a
rchitecture department of the Ecole des Beaux-Arts, for all this is decidedly ugly.”
Selena, who had overheard, smiled and said: “Oh, my dear Monsieur de Flammermont, it’s sufficient for something to be associated with science for you to declare it ugly.”
The Comte took the young woman’s hand and looked at her amorously. “Oh, my dear Selena,” he murmured, “what you say isn’t strictly true, for you’re very closely associated with Monsieur Ossipoff, who is the most scientific person in the world, and yet I’ve never hesitated to declare you the prettiest and most charming.”
The young woman smiled and lowered her eyes.
“If Monsieur Ossipoff were to hear you!” muttered Fricoulet, the sweet talk getting on his nerves.
The worthy scientist had other things on his mind than listening to his daughter’s conversation with her fiancé, however. Telinga had just introduced him to the director of the Observatory and, happy to meet a colleague, the old man had plunged into a lengthy discussion of things that were dear to him.
For his part, the Selenite scientist, delighted to make the acquaintance of a Terran, wanted him to stay longer, in order to ask him for information about parts of the sky that were unknown to him—but Telinga declared that if they wanted to be ready to go into the Subvolvan68 regions before the day’s end, they must not lose any time. It was therefore agreed that once Ossipoff’s exploration was concluded, the Terrans would come back to Maoulideck, where a great scientific congress would be held, bringing together all the notable scientists of the lunar world in order to listen to their “heavenly brothers”. Solely on that condition, the director of the Selenite Observatory consented to let his visitors leave.
Meanwhile, Telinga—who had gone away momentarily—came back, giving evidence of the greatest satisfaction, and approached Fricoulet. “Monsieur,” he said, “I shall prove to you that, in respect of the atmospheric domain, our means of locomotion are equal to our land and water vehicles. If you would care to follow me…” And he steered towards a rather high hill, the summit of which the Terrans reached in a few long strides.
The Extraordinary Adventures of a Russian Scientist Across the Solar System (Vol. 1) Page 31
