Beyond the litter of assorted engineering and latticework that marked the environs of the observatory complex and base, the soft, rolling dunes of ash-gray dust lay seared beneath the direct rays of lunar noon, pitted here and there by the ink-black shadow of the occasional crag or boulder. Above the featureless horizon, a million blazing jewels lay scattered on a carpet of velvet infinity. Joliot-Curie was without exception the loneliest center of human habitation in the universe. Here, shielded by the body of the Moon itself from Earth’s incessant outpouring of electronic caterwauling, gigantic radio dishes listened for the whisperings that brought the secrets of the cosmos; unhampered by any atmosphere and all but free of the weight-induced distortions that had crippled their Earth-bound predecessors, enormous optical telescopes probed the very limits of the observable universe. The Joliot-Curie observatory complex was distant; it was isolated, but it was free—a surviving outpost of unfettered science where the pursuit of knowledge constituted its own ends.
A shadow from behind him darkened the wall by the side of the viewing port. Zimmermann turned to find Gus Craymer standing there; Craymer was Assistant Producer of Exploding Horizons—the documentary they were making. Craymer peered past the professor to take in the scene from the outside and pulled a face.
“How come you guys don’t go nuts in this place?” he asked. Zimmermann followed his gaze, and then turned back smiling faintly.
“Oh, you would be surprised, Mr. Craymer. The solitude and peace can be quite stimulating. It really depends on what you see when you look out there. Remember the rhyme about the two men and the prison bars? I wonder sometimes that you don’t all go nuts on Earth.”
“You see stars, huh,” Craymer grinned. “Literally.” He indicated the far side of the room with a nod of his head. “There’s coffee going over there if you’d like some.” Zimmermann folded the handkerchief and replaced it in his breast pocket.
“Thank you, no. I’ll enjoy some in comfort when we have completely finished. How near the end are we?”
Craymer consulted the typed schedule that he was holding.
“Well, there’s some outside shooting to be done now that the Sun’s at the right angle . . . some close-ups of instruments to go with the commentary we recorded yesterday. Lemme see now, where are your parts . . . ? Here we are—there’s only one more shot that involves you and that’s coming up right now. That’ll be a retake of the beginning of sequence 5 . . . the one where you talk about radiation from black holes.”
“Ah, yes. Very good.”
Craymer closed the folder and turned to look out across the floor with Zimmermann.
“I guess you’ll be glad to get back to your work without this bedlam going on all the time,” he said. “You’ve been very patient and cooperative while we’ve been here. I’d like you to know that all the people on the team appreciate it.”
“Quite the contrary, Mr. Craymer,” Zimmermann replied. “It has been my pleasure. The public has paid for everything here, including my salary; they have a right to be kept informed of what we are doing and why. Besides, anything that popularizes the true nature of science is worth a little time and trouble, don’t you think?”
Craymer smiled ruefully as he recalled the problems that they had encountered with petty bureaucrats in Washington six months before, when they had tried to put a documentary together on spacecraft navigation and propulsion systems. In the end they’d had to abandon the project, since what was left after the censoring wouldn’t have made a lesson fit for elementary-school students.
“I wish more people thought that way these days,” he said. “They’re all going paranoid back home.”
“I can well imagine,” Zimmermann replied, moving aside to make room for a technician who was positioning a spotlight according to directions being shouted from across the room.
As they began threading their way toward the area where the next shooting sequence would take place, Craymer asked: “How long have you been up here now?”
“Oh, eighteen months or more, I suppose . . . although I do visit Earth from time to time. It may sound strange but I really miss very little. My work is here and, as I said a moment ago, the environment is stimulating. We have no interruptions and are largely left free of interference of any kind.”