A Morning on the Moon

The harsh emphasis, the pitiless black and white of scenery had altogether disappeared. The glare of the sun had taken upon itself a faint tinge of amber; the shadows upon the cliff of the crater wall were deeply purple. To the eastward a dark bank of fog still crouched and sheltered from the sunrise, but to the westward the sky was blue and clear. I began to realise the length of my insensibility.

The harsh contrasts and merciless black and white of the landscape had completely disappeared. The sun’s glare had taken on a faint amber tint. The shadows on the crater wall were deep purple. To the east, a dark bank of fog still huddled, sheltered from the rising sun. But to the west, the sky was blue and clear. I began to realize how long I had been unconscious.

We were no longer in a void. An atmosphere had arisen about us. The outline of things had gained in character, had grown acute and varied; save for a shadowed space of white substance here and there, white substance that was no longer air but snow, the arctic appearance had gone altogether. Everywhere broad rusty brown spaces of bare and tumbled earth spread to the blaze of the sun. Here and there at the edge of the snowdrifts were transient little pools and eddies of water, the only things stirring in that expanse of barrenness. The sunlight inundated the upper two blinds of our sphere and turned our climate to high summer, but our feet were still in shadow, and the sphere was lying upon a drift of snow.

We were no longer in a void. An atmosphere had formed around us. The outlines of things had become sharper and more varied. The Arctic appearance was gone altogether, except for patches of white in the shadows. The white substance was no longer air but snow. Everywhere, broad stretches of bare, jumbled, rusty brown earth lay in the blazing sun. Here and there, at the edges of the snowdrifts, small pools and swirling currents of water appeared and vanished. They were the only things moving in that barren expanse. Sunlight flooded the upper two blinds of our sphere, making it feel like high summer inside. But our feet were still in shadow, and the sphere was lying on a snowdrift.

And scattered here and there upon the slope, and emphasised by little white threads of unthawed snow upon their shady sides, were shapes like sticks, dry twisted sticks of the same rusty hue as the rock upon which they lay. That caught one’s thoughts sharply. Sticks! On a lifeless world? Then as my eye grew more accustomed to the texture of their substance, I perceived that almost all this surface had a fibrous texture, like the carpet of brown needles one finds beneath the shade of pine trees.

Scattered here and there on the slope were shapes like sticks. They were dry, twisted sticks, the same rusty color as the rock they lay on. Thin lines of unmelted snow on their shaded sides made them stand out. That caught my attention sharply. Sticks! On a lifeless world? Then, as my eyes grew used to their texture, I saw that almost the whole surface was fibrous. It looked like the carpet of brown needles found beneath pine trees.

“Cavor!” I said.

“Cavor!” I said.

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“It may be a dead world now—but once—”

“It may be a dead world now, but once...”

Something arrested my attention. I had discovered among these needles a number of little round objects. And it seemed to me that one of these had moved. “Cavor,” I whispered.

Something caught my attention. Among the needles, I had found a number of small, round objects. And it seemed to me that one of them had moved. “Cavor,” I whispered.

“What?”

“What?”

But I did not answer at once. I stared incredulous. For an instant I could not believe my eyes. I gave an inarticulate cry. I gripped his arm. I pointed. “Look!” I cried, finding my tongue. “There! Yes! And there!”

But I did not answer right away. I stared in disbelief. For a moment, I could not believe my eyes. I let out a wordless cry. I grabbed his arm. I pointed. “Look!” I cried, finding my voice. “There! Yes! And there!”

His eyes followed my pointing finger. “Eh?” he said.

His eyes followed my pointing finger. “Huh?” he said.

How can I describe the thing I saw? It is so petty a thing to state, and yet it seemed so wonderful, so pregnant with emotion. I have said that amidst the stick-like litter were these rounded bodies, these little oval bodies that might have passed as very small pebbles. And now first one and then another had stirred, had rolled over and cracked, and down the crack of each of them showed a minute line of yellowish green, thrusting outward to meet the hot encouragement of the newly-risen sun. For a moment that was all, and then there stirred, and burst a third!

How can I describe what I saw? It sounds so trivial, yet it seemed so wonderful, so full of emotion. I have said that among the stick-like litter were these round, oval objects. They might have passed for very small pebbles. Now, first one and then another had moved, rolled over, and cracked. A tiny line of yellowish green showed along each crack, pushing outward to meet the encouraging warmth of the newly risen sun. For a moment that was all. Then a third stirred and burst!

“It is a seed,” said Cavor. And then I heard him whisper very softly, “Life!”

“It is a seed,” said Cavor. Then I heard him whisper very softly, “Life!”

“Life!” And immediately it poured upon us that our vast journey had not been made in vain, that we had come to no arid waste of minerals, but to a world that lived and moved! We watched intensely. I remember I kept rubbing the glass before me with my sleeve, jealous of the faintest suspicion of mist.

“Life!” We immediately realized that our long journey had not been in vain. We had not come to a barren wasteland of minerals, but to a world that lived and moved! We watched closely. I remember rubbing the glass in front of me with my sleeve, determined to clear even the slightest trace of mist.

The picture was clear and vivid only in the middle of the field. All about that centre the dead fibres and seeds were magnified and distorted by the curvature of the glass. But we could see enough! One after another all down the sunlit slope these miraculous little brown bodies burst and gaped apart, like seed-pods, like the husks of fruits; opened eager mouths that drank in the heat and light pouring in a cascade from the newly-risen sun.

The picture was clear and vivid only in the middle of the field of view. All around the center, the curve of the glass magnified and distorted the dead fibers and seeds. But we could see enough! One after another, all down the sunlit slope, these miraculous little brown bodies burst open like seed pods or fruit husks. They opened eager mouths that drank in the heat and light pouring down from the newly risen sun.

Every moment more of these seed coats ruptured, and even as they did so the swelling pioneers overflowed their rent-distended seed-cases, and passed into the second stage of growth. With a steady assurance, a swift deliberation, these amazing seeds thrust a rootlet downward to the earth and a queer little bundle-like bud into the air. In a little while the whole slope was dotted with minute plantlets standing at attention in the blaze of the sun.

Every moment, more seed coats burst open. As they did, the first swelling seeds spilled out of their split cases and entered their second stage of growth. With steady confidence and swift purpose, these amazing seeds pushed a tiny root down into the earth and a strange little bundle of a bud into the air. Before long, tiny plants dotted the whole slope, standing at attention in the blazing sun.

They did not stand for long. The bundle-like buds swelled and strained and opened with a jerk, thrusting out a coronet of little sharp tips, spreading a whorl of tiny, spiky, brownish leaves, that lengthened rapidly, lengthened visibly even as we watched. The movement was slower than any animal’s, swifter than any plant’s I have ever seen before. How can I suggest it to you—the way that growth went on? The leaf tips grew so that they moved onward even while we looked at them. The brown seed-case shrivelled and was absorbed with an equal rapidity. Have you ever on a cold day taken a thermometer into your warm hand and watched the little thread of mercury creep up the tube? These moon plants grew like that.

They did not stand for long. The bundle-like buds swelled, strained, and jerked open, pushing out a crown of little sharp tips. A circle of tiny, spiky, brownish leaves spread out. The leaves grew rapidly, visibly lengthening even as we watched. The movement was slower than any animal’s, but faster than that of any plant I had ever seen. How can I describe the way they grew? The leaf tips moved forward even as we watched them. The brown seed case shriveled and was absorbed just as quickly. Have you ever held a thermometer in your warm hand on a cold day and watched the thread of mercury creep up the tube? These moon plants grew like that.

In a few minutes, as it seemed, the buds of the more forward of these plants had lengthened into a stem and were even putting forth a second whorl of leaves, and all the slope that had seemed so recently a lifeless stretch of litter was now dark with the stunted olive-green herbage of bristling spikes that swayed with the vigour of their growing.

In what seemed like a few minutes, the buds of the more advanced plants had grown into stems. They were even putting out a second circle of leaves. The whole slope had so recently seemed a lifeless stretch of debris. Now it was dark with stunted, olive-green plants. Their bristling spikes swayed as they grew vigorously.

I turned about, and behold! along the upper edge of a rock to the eastward a similar fringe in a scarcely less forward condition swayed and bent, dark against the blinding glare of the sun. And beyond this fringe was the silhouette of a plant mass, branching clumsily like a cactus, and swelling visibly, swelling like a bladder that fills with air.

I turned around and saw another fringe along the upper edge of a rock to the east. It was almost as far developed and swayed and bent, dark against the blinding glare of the sun. Beyond the fringe was the silhouette of a mass of plants, branching awkwardly like a cactus. It was visibly swelling, like a bladder filling with air.

Then to the westward also I discovered that another such distended form was rising over the scrub. But here the light fell upon its sleek sides, and I could see that its colour was a vivid orange hue. It rose as one watched it; if one looked away from it for a minute and then back, its outline had changed; it thrust out blunt congested branches until in a little time it rose a coralline shape of many feet in height. Compared with such a growth the terrestrial puff-ball, which will sometimes swell a foot in diameter in a single night, would be a hopeless laggard. But then the puff-ball grows against a gravitational pull six times that of the moon. Beyond, out of gullies and flats that had been hidden from us, but not from the quickening sun, over reefs and banks of shining rock, a bristling beard of spiky and fleshy vegetation was straining into view, hurrying tumultuously to take advantage of the brief day in which it must flower and fruit and seed again and die. It was like a miracle, that growth. So, one must imagine, the trees and plants arose at the Creation and covered the desolation of the new-made earth.

Then I saw another swollen shape rising above the scrub to the west. Here, the light fell on its smooth sides, and I could see that it was a vivid orange. It rose as I watched. If I looked away for a minute and then looked back, its outline had changed. It pushed out thick, blunt branches. Soon it stood many feet high, shaped like coral. Compared with this growth, the earth’s puffball mushroom would be hopelessly slow. A puffball can sometimes swell to a foot across in a single night. But it grows against a gravitational pull six times stronger than the moon’s. Farther away, a bristling beard of spiky, fleshy vegetation was pushing into view. It rose from gullies and flat ground hidden from us, though not from the awakening sun. It spread over ridges and banks of shining rock, rushing in a wild mass to make use of the brief day. In that short time, it had to flower, bear fruit, produce seeds, and die again. The growth was like a miracle. One must imagine that trees and plants arose this way at the Creation, covering the bare, newly made earth.

Imagine it! Imagine that dawn! The resurrection of the frozen air, the stirring and quickening of the soil, and then this silent uprising of vegetation, this unearthly ascent of fleshiness and spikes. Conceive it all lit by a blaze that would make the intensest sunlight of earth seem watery and weak. And still around this stirring jungle, wherever there was shadow, lingered banks of bluish snow. And to have the picture of our impression complete, you must bear in mind that we saw it all through a thick bent glass, distorting it as things are distorted by a lens, acute only in the centre of the picture, and very bright there, and towards the edges magnified and unreal.

Imagine it! Imagine that dawn! The frozen air came back to life. The soil stirred and awakened. Then vegetation rose silently, an unearthly growth of flesh and spikes. Imagine it all lit by a blaze that would make the brightest sunlight on earth seem watery and weak. Yet banks of bluish snow still lingered in the shadows around this stirring jungle. To picture what we saw, you must remember that we saw it all through thick, curved glass. The glass distorted the scene like a lens. The view was sharp and very bright only at the center. Toward the edges, it was magnified and unreal.