that stuff as fine as talcum powder covered every space not too sharply
tilted for it to rest on.

The feeling of deceleration increased. For part of a second they had the
sensation of three gravities.

Then there was a curious, yielding jar--really very slight--and then the
feeling of excess weight ended altogether. But not the feeling of
weight. They still had weight. It was constant. It was steady. But it
was very slight.

They were on the moon, but Cochrane felt no elation. In the tedious
hours from the space platform he'd thought too much. He was actually
aware of the humiliations and frustrations most men had to conceal from
themselves because they couldn't afford expensive psychiatric
treatments. Frustration was the disease of all humanity, these days. And
there was nothing that could be done about it. Nothing! It simply wasn't
possible to rebel, and rebellion is the process by which humiliation and
frustration is cured. But one could not rebel against the plain fact
that Earth had more people on it than one planet could support.

Merely arriving at the moon did not seem an especially useful
achievement, either to Cochrane or to humanity at large.

Things looked bad.




CHAPTER TWO