Lost Men in the Moon

His face caught something of my dismay. He stood up and stared about him at the scrub that fenced us in and rose about us, straining upward in a passion of growth. He put a dubious hand to his lips. He spoke with a sudden lack of assurance. “I think,” he said slowly, “we left it ... somewhere ... about there.”

His face showed some of my dismay. He stood up and stared at the scrub that surrounded us. It rose around us, growing upward with fierce energy. He hesitantly put a hand to his lips. When he spoke, he suddenly sounded unsure. “I think,” he said slowly, “we left it ... somewhere ... around there.”

He pointed a hesitating finger that wavered in an arc.

He pointed hesitantly, his finger wavering in an arc.

“I’m not sure.” His look of consternation deepened. “Anyhow,” he said, with his eyes on me, “it can’t be far.”

“I’m not sure.” He looked even more alarmed. “Anyway,” he said, looking at me, “it can’t be far.”

We had both stood up. We made unmeaning ejaculations, our eyes sought in the twining, thickening jungle round about us.

We had both stood up. We made meaningless exclamations and searched the tangled, thickening jungle around us with our eyes.

All about us on the sunlit slopes frothed and swayed the darting shrubs, the swelling cactus, the creeping lichens, and wherever the shade remained the snow-drifts lingered. North, south, east, and west spread an identical monotony of unfamiliar forms. And somewhere, buried already among this tangled confusion, was our sphere, our home, our only provision, our only hope of escape from this fantastic wilderness of ephemeral growths into which we had come.

All around us, darting shrubs, swelling cacti, and creeping lichens foamed and swayed on the sunlit slopes. Wherever shade remained, snowdrifts lingered. North, south, east, and west, the same unfamiliar forms stretched out in every direction. Somewhere, already buried in this tangled confusion, was our sphere. It was our home, our only supply, and our only hope of escaping this fantastic wilderness of short-lived growths.

“I think after all,” he said, pointing suddenly, “it might be over there.”

“I think it might be over there after all,” he said, pointing suddenly.

“No,” I said. “We have turned in a curve. See! here is the mark of my heels. It’s clear the thing must be more to the eastward, much more. No—the sphere must be over there.”

“No,” I said. “We have curved around. Look! Here are my heel marks. Clearly, the thing must be farther east, much farther. No, the sphere must be over there.”

“I think,” said Cavor, “I kept the sun upon my right all the time.”

“I think,” said Cavor, “I kept the sun on my right the whole time.”

“Every leap, it seems to me,” I said, “my shadow flew before me.”

“Every time I jumped, it seemed to me,” I said, “my shadow flew ahead of me.”

We stared into one another’s eyes. The area of the crater had become enormously vast to our imaginations, the growing thickets already impenetrably dense.

We stared into each other’s eyes. In our minds, the crater had become enormously vast. The growing thickets already seemed too dense to get through.

“Good heavens! What fools we have been!”

“Goodness! We have been such fools!”

“It’s evident that we must find it again,” said Cavor, “and that soon. The sun grows stronger. We should be fainting with the heat already if it wasn’t so dry. And ... I’m hungry.”

“We clearly need to find it again,” said Cavor, “and soon. The sun is getting stronger. We would already be fainting from the heat if it weren't so dry. And ... I'm hungry.”

I stared at him. I had not suspected this aspect of the matter before. But it came to me at once—a positive craving. “Yes,” I said with emphasis. “I am hungry too.”

I stared at him. I hadn't thought about that before. But I felt it at once, a strong craving for food. “Yes,” I said firmly. “I'm hungry too.”

He stood up with a look of active resolution. “Certainly we must find the sphere.”

He stood up, looking ready to act. “We must certainly find the sphere.”

As calmly as possible we surveyed the interminable reefs and thickets that formed the floor of the crater, each of us weighing in silence the chances of our finding the sphere before we were overtaken by heat and hunger.

As calmly as we could, we surveyed the endless reefs and thickets covering the crater floor. Each of us silently weighed our chances of finding the sphere before heat and hunger overcame us.

“It can’t be fifty yards from here,” said Cavor, with indecisive gestures. “The only thing is to beat round about until we come upon it.”

“It can’t be fifty yards from here,” said Cavor, gesturing uncertainly. “We just have to search around until we find it.”

“That is all we can do,” I said, without any alacrity to begin our hunt. “I wish this confounded spike bush did not grow so fast!”

“That is all we can do,” I said, without any eagerness to begin our hunt. “I wish this darned spike bush didn’t grow so fast!”

“That’s just it,” said Cavor. “But it was lying on a bank of snow.”

“That’s just it,” said Cavor. “But it was lying on a snowbank.”

I stared about me in the vain hope of recognising some knoll or shrub that had been near the sphere. But everywhere was a confusing sameness, everywhere the aspiring bushes, the distending fungi, the dwindling snow banks, steadily and inevitably changed. The sun scorched and stung, the faintness of an unaccountable hunger mingled with our infinite perplexity. And even as we stood there, confused and lost amidst unprecedented things, we became aware for the first time of a sound upon the moon other than the air of the growing plants, the faint sighing of the wind, or those that we ourselves had made.

I looked around, hoping in vain to recognize a hill or shrub that had been near the sphere. But everything looked confusingly alike. Everywhere, the rising bushes, swelling fungi, and shrinking snowbanks changed steadily and inevitably. The sun scorched and stung us. We were utterly bewildered and faint with an unexplained hunger. We stood there, confused and lost among things we had never seen before. And for the first time, we heard a sound on the moon other than the breath of the growing plants, the faint sighing of the wind, or the sounds we had made ourselves.

Boom.... Boom.... Boom.

Boom.... Boom.... Boom.

It came from beneath our feet, a sound in the earth. We seemed to hear it with our feet as much as with our ears. Its dull resonance was muffled by distance, thick with the quality of intervening substance. No sound that I can imagine could have astonished us more, or have changed more completely the quality of things about us. For this sound, rich, slow, and deliberate, seemed to us as though it could be nothing but the striking of some gigantic buried clock.

It came from beneath our feet, a sound in the earth. We seemed to hear it with our feet as much as with our ears. Its dull echo was muffled by distance and thickened by the material between us and its source. I can imagine no sound that could have surprised us more or changed the feeling of everything around us so completely. For the sound was rich, slow, and deliberate. It seemed to us that it could only be the striking of some gigantic buried clock.

Boom.... Boom.... Boom.

Boom.... Boom.... Boom.

Sound suggestive of still cloisters, of sleepless nights in crowded cities, of vigils and the awaited hour, of all that is orderly and methodical in life, booming out pregnant and mysterious in this fantastic desert! To the eye everything was unchanged: the desolation of bushes and cacti waving silently in the wind, stretched unbroken to the distant cliffs, the still dark sky was empty overhead, and the hot sun hung and burned. And through it all, a warning, a threat, throbbed this enigma of sound.

The sound brought to mind quiet cloisters, sleepless nights in crowded cities, and vigils awaiting the appointed hour. It suggested all that is orderly and methodical in life. Yet it boomed through this fantastic desert, full of meaning and mystery! To the eye, everything was unchanged. The desolate stretch of bushes and cacti, waving silently in the wind, continued unbroken to the distant cliffs. The still, dark sky was empty overhead, and the hot sun hung there, burning. And through it all, the puzzling sound throbbed like a warning, a threat.

Boom.... Boom.... Boom....

Boom.... Boom.... Boom....

We questioned one another in faint and faded voices.

We asked each other questions in faint, fading voices.

“A clock?”

“A clock?”

“Like a clock!”

“Like a clock!”

“What is it?”

“What is it?”

“What can it be?”

“What could it be?”

“Count,” was Cavor’s belated suggestion, and at that word the striking ceased.

“Count,” Cavor suggested at last, and the striking stopped at that word.

The silence, the rhythmic disappointment of the silence, came as a fresh shock. For a moment one could doubt whether one had ever heard a sound. Or whether it might not still be going on. Had I indeed heard a sound?

The silence, the rhythmic disappointment of the silence, came as a fresh shock. For a moment, I could doubt whether I had ever heard a sound. Or whether the sound might still be going on. Had I really heard a sound?

I felt the pressure of Cavor’s hand upon my arm. He spoke in an undertone, as though he feared to wake some sleeping thing. “Let us keep together,” he whispered, “and look for the sphere. We must get back to the sphere. This is beyond our understanding.”

I felt Cavor’s hand press against my arm. He spoke quietly, as if he feared waking something that was asleep. “Let’s stay together,” he whispered, “and look for the sphere. We must get back to the sphere. This is beyond our understanding.”

“Which way shall we go?”

“Which way should we go?”

He hesitated. An intense persuasion of presences, of unseen things about us and near us, dominated our minds. What could they be? Where could they be? Was this arid desolation, alternately frozen and scorched, only the outer rind and mask of some subterranean world? And if so, what sort of world? What sort of inhabitants might it not presently disgorge upon us?

He hesitated. We were overwhelmed by the strong feeling that unseen things were all around us, close by. What could they be? Where could they be? Was this dry wasteland, alternately frozen and scorched, only the outer shell and disguise of an underground world? And if so, what kind of world was it? What kind of inhabitants might it soon unleash upon us?

And then, stabbing the aching stillness as vivid and sudden as an unexpected thunderclap, came a clang and rattle as though great gates of metal had suddenly been flung apart.

Then a clang and rattle pierced the aching silence, as sudden and vivid as an unexpected thunderclap. It sounded as if great metal gates had suddenly been flung open.

It arrested our steps. We stood gaping helplessly. Then Cavor stole towards me.

It stopped us in our tracks. We stood staring helplessly. Then Cavor moved quietly toward me.

“I do not understand!” he whispered close to my face. He waved his hand vaguely skyward, the vague suggestion of still vaguer thoughts.

“I don’t understand!” he whispered close to my face. He waved his hand vaguely toward the sky, hinting at thoughts that were even vaguer.

“A hiding-place! If anything came...”

“A place to hide! If anything came...”

I looked about us. I nodded my head in assent to him.

I looked around us. I nodded in agreement with him.

We started off, moving stealthily with the most exaggerated precautions against noise. We went towards a thicket of scrub. A clangour like hammers flung about a boiler hastened our steps. “We must crawl,” whispered Cavor.

We set off quietly, taking extreme care not to make a sound. We headed toward a thicket of bushes. A clatter like hammers thrown around inside a boiler made us hurry. “We must crawl,” Cavor whispered.

The lower leaves of the bayonet plants, already overshadowed by the newer ones above, were beginning to wilt and shrivel so that we could thrust our way in among the thickening stems without serious injury. A stab in the face or arm we did not heed. At the heart of the thicket I stopped, and stared panting into Cavor’s face.

The lower leaves of the bayonet plants were already shaded by the newer leaves above. They were beginning to wilt and shrivel, so we could push through the thickening stems without serious injury. We ignored the occasional stab in the face or arm. At the heart of the thicket, I stopped and stared into Cavor’s face, panting.

“Subterranean,” he whispered. “Below.”

“Underground,” he whispered. “Below.”

“They may come out.”

“They may come out.”

“We must find the sphere!”

“We have to find the sphere!”

“Yes,” I said; “but how?”

“Yes,” I said, “but how?”

“Crawl till we come to it.”

“Crawl until we reach it.”

“But if we don’t?”

“But if we don’t?”

“Keep hidden. See what they are like.”

“Stay hidden. See what they are like.”

“We will keep together,” said I.

“We'll stay together,” I said.

He thought. “Which way shall we go?”

He thought. “Which way shall we go?”

“We must take our chance.”

“We have to take our chances.”

We peered this way and that. Then very circumspectly, we began to crawl through the lower jungle, making, so far as we could judge, a circuit, halting now at every waving fungus, at every sound, intent only on the sphere from which we had so foolishly emerged. Ever and again from out of the earth beneath us came concussions, beatings, strange, inexplicable, mechanical sounds; and once, and then again, we thought we heard something, a faint rattle and tumult, borne to us through the air. But fearful as we were we dared essay no vantage-point to survey the crater. For long we saw nothing of the beings whose sounds were so abundant and insistent. But for the faintness of our hunger and the drying of our throats that crawling would have had the quality of a very vivid dream. It was so absolutely unreal. The only element with any touch of reality was these sounds.

We looked this way and that. Then, very cautiously, we began crawling through the lower jungle, circling around as best we could tell. We stopped whenever a fungus waved or we heard a sound. Our only thought was to reach the sphere we had so foolishly left. Again and again, shocks, pounding, and strange, inexplicable mechanical sounds came from the earth beneath us. Twice we thought we heard something carried through the air, a faint rattling and commotion. But as frightened as we were, we dared not climb to a vantage point to look over the crater. For a long time, we saw nothing of the beings making those plentiful, persistent sounds. If we had not felt weak from hunger and our throats had not been growing dry, that crawl would have seemed like a vivid dream. It all seemed so completely unreal. Only the sounds had any touch of reality.

Picture it to yourself! About us the dream-like jungle, with the silent bayonet leaves darting overhead, and the silent, vivid, sun-splashed lichens under our hands and knees, waving with the vigour of their growth as a carpet waves when the wind gets beneath it. Ever and again one of the bladder fungi, bulging and distending under the sun, loomed upon us. Ever and again some novel shape in vivid colour obtruded. The very cells that built up these plants were as large as my thumb, like beads of coloured glass. And all these things were saturated in the unmitigated glare of the sun, were seen against a sky that was bluish black and spangled still, in spite of the sunlight, with a few surviving stars. Strange! the very forms and texture of the stones were strange. It was all strange, the feeling of one’s body was unprecedented, every other movement ended in a surprise. The breath sucked thin in one’s throat, the blood flowed through one’s ears in a throbbing tide—thud, thud, thud, thud....

Picture it! A dreamlike jungle surrounded us. Silent, bayonet-shaped leaves shot up overhead. Under our hands and knees, vivid lichens lay silently in patches of sunlight. They waved with the force of their growth, like a carpet when the wind gets underneath it. Every now and then, a bladder fungus loomed over us, swelling and stretching in the sun. Every now and then, some new shape in a vivid color thrust itself into view. The very cells that made up these plants were as large as my thumb, like beads of colored glass. All these things were flooded with the relentless glare of the sun. Behind them, the sky was bluish black. Despite the sunlight, a few stars still shone in it. Strange! Even the shapes and textures of the stones were strange. Everything was strange. My body felt unlike anything I had ever known, and every other movement ended in a surprise. Breath felt thin in my throat, and blood surged through my ears in a throbbing tide. Thud, thud, thud, thud....

And ever and again came gusts of turmoil, hammering, the clanging and throb of machinery, and presently—the bellowing of great beasts!

Now and then came bursts of noise: hammering, clanging, and the throb of machinery. Then came the bellowing of great beasts!