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Screensize: 640 x 480 800 x 600 1024 x 768 1280 x 1024 UserName: Password: Format Mode: Basic  Help  Prompt  Format: Font Andale Mono Arial Arial Black Book Antiqua Century Gothic Comic Sans MS Courier New Georgia Impact Lucida Console Script MT Bold Stencil Tahoma Times New Roman Trebuchet MS Verdana   Size 1 2 3 4 5 6   Color Black Red Yellow Pink Green Orange Purple Blue Beige Brown Teal Navy Maroon LimeGreen Message: * HTML is OFF * Forum Code is ON Smilies [quote][i]Originally posted by specfiction[/i] [br][size=3][b]EVOLUTION'S CHILD by CHARLES LEE LESHER[/b][/size=3] [i]"This is the time when humans have begun to sail the sea of space."[/i] -- Carl Sagan (1934-1996) [b]Part Two: Aldrin Station[/b] "You needn't worry, earthman," Tempel says. "There hasn't been a collapse in over forty years. Hampton forced a major re-write of the design simulation. Every known factor has been incorporated into the sim. Not only is the outer envelope designed to maximize support, but the inner structure as well. The floors, ceilings, walls and ramps inside the habitats are designed to distribute the outer load. It's a lot safer now." "Is there a master plan for the entire city?" Lazarus asks. "Of course there is, DREMS incorporates the shape of habitats, transportation and utility corridors, even plumbing tubes. The mountain itself undergoes extensive SQUID evaluation looking for fractures or fault lines" Sensing his ignorance, "SQ- U-I-D stands for Superconducting Quantum Interference Device. It maps extremely small variations in the mountains magnetic field to identify cracks and stress risers within the rock, before they becomes cracks" The point is all of these influences are factored into any proposed new excavation no matter how small," Tempel says. "Dreams?" Lazarus asks. "D-R-E-M-S stands for Deep Rock Excavation and Maintenance Simulation," he answers. "Can you show me or is it classified?" Lazarus asks. "Classified? DREMS is on the public net. Everybody has access to it." Temple glances at Sam and shakes his head before linking with Lazarus. In a rapid series of subtle hand movements, he brings up a three-dimensional image floating in the air between them. The mall fades to background as Lazarus stares in total fascination at the slowly turning multicolored model. In exquisitely fine detail, it shows the twenty-mile section of Rim Mountain that contains the city. Most of the habitats, and their interconnecting commonways, lie within a central band at roughly the same elevation as the surface outside the crater. The clustered habitats of all eleven boroughs are color-coded and identified with tiny letters only clearly readable when he looks right at them. If he lingers for a moment on a specific hab, detailed information concerning ownership and usage displays itself. A half mile below the boroughs, at the elevation of the crater floor, is another band containing far fewer habitats but with a complex network of large and small tunnels. The habitats on this lower level are smaller and much further apart. A third level of habitats is grouped in small clusters above each borough. Within each group are one or more large habitats. He stares at one of these. The information appearing before him identifies it is a reservoir. Tunnels connect the three levels, some large and well defined within the image, others are wispy threads almost invisible. Tempel speeds up the image's rotation. The quality of the graphics astounds Lazarus. As a Senior Analyst, he had access to the best simulations the Federation had to offer but this is better than anything he has ever seen or imagined possible. "The upper level is our water reservoirs and some agricultural habitats. The central level is where we live and the lower level is waste recovery and bulk transportation. Currently, there are 1173 habitats, over 70 miles of commonways and 300 miles of primary and secondary service tunnels below the city. The sewer system alone has a thousand miles of ancillary tunnels, some big enough to walk in but most are the size of your fist. The excavators are constantly burrowing more. This is only a small fraction of the sim data. Here is where we are," Tempel says. A bright pinprick appears within the central level. Tempel circles a group of habitats, his finger leaving behind a glowing trail that slowly fades away, "This is Dakota warren." Lazarus is puzzled, "Please, define a warren for me." "A warren is a group of habitats daisy-chained together that share the mechanicals needed to keep us eating and breathing. Usually they have a short interconnect corridor between the individual habitats but sometimes they are butted up rim to rim. A big warren, like Dakota, has habitats spread out vertically and horizontally." Tempel says. Reaching out, Tempel pulls the image, magnifying it to take a closer look at Brooklyn Mall. It is as if he is no longer in the mall but instead high above it soaring down through the rock of the mountain, falling towards the habitat, its detail rapidly drawing closer. Lazarus reaches out and grasps Sam's arm staggering slightly. "Take it easy Tempel. He isn't accustomed to using our net!" Sam scolds putting her arm around Lazarus to steady him. Tempel replies with a dry chuckle but slows down and brings them to a stop hovering over Brooklyn Mall's Central Commons. Below them are three individuals standing next to a covered park bench. The rain soaked grass catches the light, reflecting back at them like diamonds sprinkled across the lawn. Lazarus suppresses his fear of heights by repeatedly telling himself this is not real, that he isn't actually hovering in midair a hundred feet up looking down at these people. He suddenly realizes who the three people are. He hesitantly waves his arm out in front like a blind man looking for obstacles, the action eerily reflected below. He resists the urge to look up. Sam recognizes his discomfort,"We are accessing the mall's public sensors and seamlessly integrating real-time video with DREMS." "If this is a dream, then please don't wake me," Lazarus says glad she is there to distract him. Lazarus had grown up around computers and electronics, yet he realized long ago that one of the sacrifices his country made, as they clung ever tighter to Christian religious beliefs, was that of change. He knows that no new technology has developed within the Federation for over fifty years. What little there was came from foreign countries and imported at great expense. Some call this lack of innovation stability, but Lazarus knows it for what it is; stagnation. Of all the classified reports he had read over the years, not one mentioned this advanced state of technology. The Lunarian computer system had to be crunching data at a tremendous rate to provide them with such high quality video, better than anything he had seen or heard about anywhere on Earth let alone in the NAF. He concludes once again that this is something the Federation must have purposefully kept from him and the other Senior Analysts. He files the omission away with all the others. Even as Lazarus mulls this over, Tempel takes them back the way they had come, arriving over the food court, looking down at the people eating. Three adolescent boys are sitting at the same table they had so recently vacated, eating pizza. Tempel moves in close bringing Lazarus and Sam with him. It seems as if they are standing right next to the table, listening to their horseplay, seeing every expression as clearly as if they were actually present. The boys are wearing visors and one of them turns, looking right at Tempel. "Something wrong?" he asks. Tempel shakes his head and says, "Nope. We just want to wish you boys a nice lunch." He nods to them and departs. Back across the mall they soar, this time staying beneath the massive limbs, weaving around the tree trunks. Lazarus is starting to really enjoy the ride by the time they reach their destination, back at the flesh and blood versions of themselves standing patiently beside the picnic bench. Tempel brings Lazarus to a standstill inches from himself. It's like looking into a mirror. Lazarus can see every pore, every hair, every twitch of his mouth, more clearly then if he were in his kitchen back in Arizona staring into the ancient mirror behind the sink getting ready for work. He can't resist reaching out, watching his hand disappear into the chest of the image in front of him. He hears Sam's musical laugh, pulling him back to something real. 'scanners throughout the city are available to anybody at any time but the malls are covered in great detail. This is where we come to play," Tempel says. With a grand wave of his arm Tempel sweeps their images away, scattering the millions of tiny pixels like dust in the wind until nothing remains. Lazarus looks around slightly dazed and confused. He sees a man and a woman a short distance away, standing and watching them. Sam is holding on to his arm, looking intently down at him. "Are you alright?" she asks, concern showing on her face. Lazarus nods and gives her a big smile, "Who are those people?" "They are Lunarians monitoring our conversation," she replies. When Lazarus looks even more confused, Sam adds, "What you see is the result of morphing fortyseven men and women into a single couple." "I don't understand," he says. Sam responds by walking over to the woman. She nods a greeting and asks, "Constance, do you mind?" The image nods. "I would like you to meet Mr. Lazarus Sheffield," Sam says. The face and countenance of the figure before them changes smoothly into the features of a heavyset woman with shoulder length brown hair and a hawkish nose. "Greetings" Constance Cassidy," she says tipping her head politely. "Lazarus Sheffield, pleased to make your acquaintance," Lazarus responds hesitantly and nods in return. "Constance works with Tempel and if I don't miss my guess, you are keeping tabs on him, isn't that right?" Sam asks, the grin on her face reflects the mischief she's causing. Constance stares back at her, "Actually I find this earthman fascinating. All this talk of nukes and terrorists is exciting." Looking at Lazarus, "Now, why don't you get on with it?" With a nod, she melts back into the composite, removing herself from the conversation. Lazarus abruptly reaches up and removes his visor. Sam and Tempel exchange glances, keeping theirs on. "If you don't mind, I would like to see Aldrin Station with my own eyes." The composite image of the watchers unnerves him and he feels better simply ignoring the fact they are being so closely watched by so many. "It's your choice," Tempel says then leads them away from the picnic area. Lazarus looks at Sam and asks, "Doesn't it bother you to know you are being watched all the time?" Her visor makes it hard for him to hold a conversation. "First, it's not all the time. We have had privacy up until now, haven't we? Second, why should I mind? I never even think about it." Sam says. "So,when is it not ok to spy on someone?" Lazarus asks. "It's simple, earthman. Never link with someone in their home without their permission and never stalk them when they"re in public. If you follow those two rules you"ll be fine. Don't, and you"ll have trouble." Tempel says. Lazarus looks at him with a rather puzzled expression, "I have a lot to learn." Tempel glances back. This earthman may actually know how ignorant he is, a point in his favor. Lazarus asks. "There is something that is really bugging me. What happens if we suddenly lose integrity in this habitat? All the air leaks out catastrophically?" Lazarus asks. "Unless you can breathe vacuum, you die!" Tempel says over his shoulder. He points to a nearby airlock leading into a merchant's backroom. "The locks you see throughout the city are set up to minimize air loss. They are programmed to automatically close when they sense a pressure drop. Once shut, the pressure must equalize for a main lock to freely reopen. Don't get caught on the wrong side of the lock!" Tempel says. "How do you know which is the right side?" Lazarus asks. "The emergency lights above the airlock will come on. If they are red, get on the other side before the lock closes. If they are green, just sit tight," Sam informs him. 'sounds simple enough, but what if both sides are red?" Lazarus asks. "Kiss your ass goodbye!" Tempel says then points again to the merchant's airlock. "There are many rooms with airtight doors. Find one and get inside. If the door is shut, override it but get inside quick." "Don't worry. We haven't had a major incident in years," Sam says, grinning. They move around the pond, across an expanse of grass and continue downhill. "This is the East wing of Brooklyn Mall," Sam says. Lazarus is really starting to enjoy the walk. It requires a completely different rhythm to stroll in one sixth of your birth planet's gravity but Lazarus is getting better. Tempel leads them off the path and across beautifully maintained grass to the Plantation, a quant French-style sidewalk caf" on the terrace abutting the mall's East entrance. There isn't an alcove here, just a small grouping of shops looking out upon the arboretum. Weaving around tables, the three pick a spot close to a lush garden with a miniature waterfall splashing into a small pool surrounded with ferns. The air has a damp, humid smell. Tall broadleaved plants shade the caf". The house lights are low and a thick Asian carpet softens the mall sounds. To Lazarus, it seems like he has entered yet another little world. A tall lanky lad with broad shoulders comes over to take their order. He immediately notices that Lazarus is not wearing his visor. "Mocha Sanani," Tempel says. "Ambrosia with honey," she looks at Lazarus and adds, "Double that and add a couple of Blackberry Rolls." "Ambrosia?" Lazarus asks. "It is a white tea from south China that we have grown on Luna for over fifty years. It's very good with honey and blackberries," Sam says. 'sounds wonderful," Lazarus says. Rachel had liked tea. He leans back in the comfortable chair and relaxes. The chair is warm and soft, and the sound of the water soothing. A yawn escapes before he can stop it. "When are you due?" Tempel asks Lazarus. "Due what?" Lazarus asks. "Sleep... When was the last time you slept?" Tempel asks. "I had a long nap on the shuttle. I"ll be fine." Lazarus says. Sam laughs and says, "Jelag!" Tempel nods knowingly, "It will take a while for your system to adjust to the lack of night and day." "I don't understand why Lunarians don't use Universal Shiptime," Lazarus states, "Why not dim the lights half the day like spacecraft?" "Only civilian spacecraft do that, mostly because it offers them a measure of control over their passengers. Military ships use the same twenty-four hour schedule that we do," Tempel says pointing up at the clock above the pastry counter visible through the open door of the caf". "The twenty-four hours is divided up into the three shifts you see, red for first, green for second, and blue for third, each eight hours long. Some people still use morning, noon and night but it doesn't mean much. A long time ago they tried dimming the lights during one shift but it turned out to be a colossal waste of effort. There is not one single reason why one shift should be singled out for sleeping and not another. We leave it up to the individual to pick when they should be sleeping!" Tempel explains. "The words tomorrow or today or yesterday don't have much meaning here, do they?" Lazarus says. 'sure they do. A day is still twenty-four hours, just like it is on Earth. We just don't have a nice neat twelve hour light and dark cycle here. Even if you"re on the surface, a lunar cycle is fourteen days freezing darkness and fourteen days of blazing sunlight. It's simpler to have all of Luna work off the same time," Tempel says sipping his coffee. "I think you like explaining things to Lazarus," Sam says grinning at Tempel. Tempel blows her a kiss. Turning back to Lazarus, "Most people adjust their sleep cycle to fit with the people they work with. I only need about four hours sleep in every twenty-four." "That might take some getting used to," Lazarus says shaking his head. "I personally need at least six hours or I"m not worth much the next day." He nods his thanks to the waiter as the young man deposits a steaming mug next to the prettiest pastry he had ever seen, a perfect spiral of dark purple set in piecrust. Tempel grunts wondering if any earthman is worth his O2 regardless of how much sleep they get, "The meeting with Abby won't take long. After that you can get some sleep." Sam peels a chunk from the side of her pastry and pops it into her mouth with pleasure.Lazarus nods and takes another sip. Sitting the cup down, "I can't tell you how much I am looking forward to meeting your grandmother. You may not realize how famous she is on Earth. In some circles she is spoken of with Einstein, Darwin and Hawking! Her white paper on biotronic DNA manipulations is the definitive work on the subject," Lazarus says, his voice betraying his excitement. "I thought the Federation didn't allow any science in school, especially genetics?" Tempel asks. Lazarus sits quietly for a moment before answering, "Who said I learned about her in school?" "Humph" did you learn about her on bathroom walls? Or maybe you hacked into our websites?" Tempel did not believe for an instant that it was possible to get past Magi but there is much that is freely shared with anyone who asks. "In a way" Your websites are monitored closely and when something new posted, it was my job to read its content. Right before I blocked everyone else from it," Lazarus says. Tempel looks intently at him. Without his visor on, Tempel does not have access to Lazarus's polygraphic indicators, but he can still approximate heart rate, blood pressure, and sweat. He is sure Lazarus is being truthful but deeply bothered by his admission, more than the crime seems to warrant. Sam looks concerned but before she can say anything, Lazarus raises his hands in mock surrender, "I was young and idealistic and convinced myself I was working on the side of good," Lazarus says. He drops his eyes and rubs his hand across his head. "It's not something I"m proud of but Lindsey stressed honesty above all else. I will not hide or avoid the things I have done." "Good advice," Tempel says. "We are not here to judge you, Lazarus," Sam says. "You seem to be doing that yourself," Tempel says. Lazarus sighs and runs his hand over his head again, "You have learned much about me and my family. Please, tell me about yours." Tempel is a product of an open society where the flow of information defines freedom. Being branded a liar is one of the worst things that can happen to somebody, their opinions, and they themselves, are rendered irrelevant. It never occurs to him to lie or avoid the truth. "My family is typical," Sam grunts but keeps quiet. "Grandma Abby met and married Patrick Ryan Dugan just after Aldrin Station was founded back in 2024. I never met my grandpa. He was buried under a thousand feet of rock nineteen years before I was born but all of us have heard the stories of how PR and Abby met, married, and changed the world." "I, for one, believe your grandparents did change the world," Lazarus says. He shakes his head and continues, "It must have been tough in the beginning. They had to invent or re-invent equipment and ways of doing things as they went along. Nobody had ever lived in a vacuum before." "Except in the space stations, the little ones when they were figuring out how to do it. But you"re right, living on the moon was something completely new. Aldrin Station started out as a group of inflatable shelters exposed on the surface, the facilities were limited, construction techniques primitive and practically everything had to come up from Earth. But sometimes I think the stories are exaggerated." "I wouldn't bet on it," Lazarus exclaims. "From the engineers I"ve met, I can attest to their arrogance. The good ones possess the hubris to believe their designs must be the best, simply because it is theirs. I"m sure that most, if not all, the equipment the colonists brought with them must have needed massive redesign when confronted with the reality of living on the moon." Tempel nods, "You have a point. PR came to Luna as a mining engineer. After screwing around with excavations back then, he came up with the first high-energy disrupter feedback circuit. His basic design has been refined but hasn't changed much since then. It's the single invention making deep-rock Luna habitats possible. Before grandpa, excavations were done using explosives and impact tools with men and machines manually clearing the debris. I can't imagine that!" Shaking his head, "All grandpa did was take advantage of the technology around him. He was highly motivated at the time by the overwhelming need to get everyone underground. It's dangerous to be on the surface too long. Eventually your luck runs out" It was later that Smith and Wesson turned equipment designed for deep rock excavations into a weapon." He pats his holstered disrupter. "How does disrupters relate to deep rock excavations?" Lazarus asks. Tempel frowns and looks at him for a moment wondering if Lazarus was pulling his leg. "Both weapons and excavators are coherent high-energy electromagnetic generators. When the beam strikes surface atoms, it ruptures the bonds holding them together and releases even more energy. This starts a chain reaction that spreads to adjacent atoms. A properly calibrated excavator can maintain this as long as the cloud of displaced atoms is removed. The process attains its highest efficiency in complete vacuum when the resulting plasma gas, called blowoff, is dispersed away from the cutting area. Therefore, vent tubes are the first things cut when excavating a new hab or tunnel," Tempel explains. "If the sun is angled just right, a person out on the surface can see a haze along the crest of Rim Mountain above a major excavation. They may even see a rainbow. The mountain contributes just enough extra gravity to slow down dispersion of the blowoff gases rising from the surface vents," Sam says. Lazarus nods, "I"ve heard government environmentalists and church leaders comment about the pollution the Lunarians are creating. Moon pollution! Do you buy into that?" "It might become a problem," Tempel admits, "but nobody knows. We don't like venting the blowoff into Luna vacuum any more than they do but right now it isn't feasible to do anything else. There isn't any doubt that the amount of matter found in a square meter of vacuum above the surface of Luna is increasing, and no one can predict with any certainty what it means." Tempel pauses taking a sip of his coffee, watching Lazarus enjoy a piece of pastry. "In a perfect vacuum there aren't any bits of matter floating around. Luna is exhausting thousands of tons of atomized material at each excavation site. Multiply that by hundreds of sites and you end up with some very large numbers. Some are advocating condensing useful elements out of this witches brew, but the cost is too high for what you get. It's simpler and more profitable to mine ore for what we need." "I look forward to hearing about the details but right now I"m more interested in learning about your grandmother and the rest of your family." Lazarus shifts the subject back to the person he believes has the most say in his future. Sam grins into her tea. "Actually, she's my great grandmother. She was born in 1999 in Kansas City. One of the youngest to graduate with two PhD's from one of your old American schools, MIT I believe it was called. In 2024 she volunteered for the US Space Command and was the doctor on the mission that founded Aldrin Station. As one of the original settlers, she helped set up the city's first hospital and the first biotronic research program. She's still involved in biotronics and is an active professor at the University of Luna. Her lectures are always attended by thousands, sometimes millions." "That's amazing, still teaching at ninety-three!" Lazarus says. "What about your father and mother? Brothers and sisters?" "My dad, Patrick Ryan Dugan, was Abby's youngest child. Everyone called him Duce. He married my mom, Elizabeth Anne Turner, a few months before my oldest brother Ben was born in 2060. Liz then had Stone in "62, Patrick Ryan III or Tray in "64, Maggie in "65, Krystin in 67, Skylor in "70 and Alex in "71. I was last, born Halloween 2072." "Impressive. In the Federation, families must pay for the privilege to have more than one child," Lazarus says. "The government calls them fines but the result is only the rich have large families. I can't wait to meet your parents." "You have been extended Dugan hospitality, so you will undoubtedly meet Liz but Duce disappeared surveying the Central Highlands in "86," Tempel says staring straight ahead taking another sip of coffee. That puts Tempel at fourteen or fifteen years old when his dad did not come home. Lazarus does not push, knowing what it is like to grow up without a father. It has not taken long for him to tire of looking at their visors instead of their eyes. He slips his back on while Tempel talks, noticing for the first time that his surroundings sharpen and colors appear more vibrant with the device. Staring at the little waterfall, he clearly hears every splash, but the sound reverts to background noise when he looks away. Turning his head, Lazarus stares at the waiter inside the caf", suddenly being able to observe his interaction with another customer as if he were standing next to them. The man turns and looks at Lazarus who hastily breaks eye contact and concentrates on Tempel. He is not sure what just happened. "Liz's family, the Turners, belong to Humboldt freehold over in Mission. When she married Duce she kept her maiden name and honored her new husband by accepting his as well, Elizabeth Anne Turner Dugan. This seems to be catching on with my generation. It makes for interesting names among our womenfolk." "Just the women? I thought Lunarians were all about equality?" Lazarus says. "That's what I"ve advocated all along, the men should change their name too." Sam says. "How many kids did PR and Abby have?" Lazarus asks. "In all, he and Abby have four kids, nineteen grandkids, fifty-seven great grandkids, and four great-great grandkids, so far." Lazarus leans back in his chair and says, "It sounds like I"m going to have a heck of a time keeping it all straight. What about you, Sam, what's your family like?" She smiles, "Not nearly as interesting as Tempel's, I"m afraid!" Turning to Tempel, she says, "We need to be going." Tempel nods, gulping the last of his coffee. They walk a short distance and approach Brooklyn Mall's East entrance. Unlike the North entrance, there are not any shops or courtyard here, just the massive airlock doors thrown wide open. Lazarus stops and turns to take one more look at the mall. It is so beautiful it does not seem real. They have moved downhill since they entered from the North Courtyard so he is looking uphill. In reverse symmetry with the North section, the East widens and curves away from him, preventing him from seeing Central Commons. Tree leaves glisten with raindrops as their great limbs sway in the breeze. People walk the paths under the massive trees enjoying the day. Laughter floats across the distance. Being here makes Lazarus feel good. Tempel waits impatiently but Sam motions for him to relax. She smiles at Lazarus when he turns to follow them out of the mall. They move down a wide straight corridor for several hundred yards, and emerge into another massive space. At first, Lazarus thinks they have entered another mall. Overhead is the same sky blue and giant trees dominate the landscape, but this space is different, a ribbon cut into the stone where the mall was a bubble. A forest extends as far as he can see in both directions, foliage gently swaying in the breeze. They emerge upon a broad ledge at least twenty feet up. To his left and right, ramps lead down to the grassy floor below. Directly in front of him is a rail-lined overpass extending straight and flat to a matching entrance on the far side. Scattered along its length are ramps leading downward. Carved into the stone during the initial excavation, some of its surfaces polished while others are rough. Instead of going down, Tempel leads them well out onto the bridge and stops at the rail. The floor recedes as they move away from the wall towards the center of the span, so they are high above it when they finally stop. This gives Lazarus a marvelous view but causes his stomach to twist. He keeps back from the rail and gathers himself. The trees towering over the bridge are not Ash like those in Brooklyn Mall. Below them, like sidewalks or some other strange pathway, two strips of some dark material pass beneath the bridge, curve around the massive tree trunks, and disappear into the distance. Through the trees, several hundred yards away, Lazarus can glimpse another stone overpass composed of a series of arches that remind him of a Roman aqueduct. Staring at it for a moment, his visor zooms in until Lazarus can see people on the bridge. Grass carpets the ground. Small manicured gardens of flowering plants and shrubs add color to the scene. Perhaps a hundred feet distant is a stand of cherry trees in full bloom. Stone retaining walls and numerous other landscaping details create a parklike atmosphere. "Is this a commonway?" Lazarus asks. "Aye, this is Asimov Commonway. It extends about two miles in that direction and less than a half mile in the other." Sam says. "This isn't the only commonway is it?" Lazarus says. "Asimov is only a small loop that services the west end of Lincoln County. Our meeting with Abby is about twenty minutes away. We will take the slidewalk to Central then to Sherwood." Sam says. Sensing the wonder in his gaze, "The trees here are Sycamore, Elm, Yew, some Chestnut and a variety of fruit trees." "Do they have a Norse legend attached to them?" Lazarus asks. Sam smiles and tilts her head, "Maybe" but if they do, I don't know about it. Many species of birds, insects, and small mammals make their home here. We can use them to make up our own legend." "Count me in. I"ve always wanted to start my own religion"" Movement attracts his eye and he looks up. Soaring silently far above the treetops at high speed is what appears to be a long sleek train. When he continues to stare, the parallel lines of its rails come into focus stretching out of sight in both directions. He realizes that instead of riding on the rails, this train suspends from them. Such technology! Lazarus flushes, suddenly feeling like a Neanderthal trying to make sense of a Stratoliner. The train is gone an instant later leaving Lazarus to wonder if he imagined it. No, it never made a sound but the rails are still there if he looks hard enough. He drops his gaze back down to earth, "It seems like a lot of resources have gone into making and keeping things pretty. Who pays for all the extras?" Lazarus asks. "What extras?" Sam asks, puzzled. "Well" moving people from point A to point B doesn't require forests," he says nodding at the nearest tree, "or cherry trees," shifting his gaze to the colorful pink flowers in the distance. The longer he looks the more distinct the tiny flowers become. He even begins to hear the bees buzz among the branches and catch a whiff of cherry blossoms. Tempel frowns, "Are you saying you prefer staring at a blank wall whizzing by, or the person's head in font of you, like we see on vids of people riding the New York subway? The increase in size doesn't add much to the cost of excavation and Magi takes care of maintenance." "Why wouldn't you want beauty into your home? Who wants to live in a dungeon?" Sam asks genuinely perplexed. "Luna didn't come with trees and green grass. We make every cubic foot of dirt including the bacteria and nurture every tree, shrub and blade of grass or they won't exist at all." "There are mechanical scrubbers to clean our air but nothing beats trees for doing the job right," Tempel says. "Biodiversity is very important." "I think I just redefined what I consider extras," Lazarus says with a weak grin. His gaze carries down the commonway, taking in the vibrant expanse. A few pedestrians move on and off the slidewalk or simply zip along its surface, quickly disappearing around the nearest bend or behind some particularly dense foliage. He understands. "You have created something unique and special here. You should be very proud," Lazarus says softly. He looks down, watching as several people pass under the overpass. They are standing on a small disk, which moves along the path. "You don't expect me to travel on this carnival ride do you?" "Carnival ride? I"m not sure what a carnival ride is but slidewalk's are how we get around. It won't hurt you. If you can stand, then you can use a slidewalk," she points down to a collection of small octagonal disks, each about twenty-four inches across, strewn along the edge of the slidewalk below them. It reminds Lazarus of a disorganized little parking lot off the main highway. "Those are drifters. Just step on one and Magi will activate the maglev technology built into the slidewalk directly beneath it raising the drifter about an inch. To move forward, shift your center of mass forward, same with left and right. To move faster, shift more of your balance in the direction you want to go." When he still looks dubious she adds, "Just move your weight closer to the edge." "How do you stop?" Lazarus asks. It is one thing to know how to get it going, but as far as he is concerned, it is much more important to know how to stop. "Simply center your mass," Sam responds. "Magi will not let you get hurt," remarks Tempel. Lazarus does not know who Magi is but that's not important right now. He looks down at the drifters scattered about where others have left them, "What about rules of the road?" Sam grins, "Good questions. Traffic obeys the right hand rule. East bound traffic uses the south slidewalk and conversely, west bound uses the north slidewalk." She points to the two wide roadbeds. "Magi will not allow you to travel the wrong way on a slidewalk or run into someone else." "How do you move larger goods around?" Lazarus asks. "There's a network of tunnels below the city for truck convoys. The commonways are for people," Sam explains. As they stand on the overpass, several citizens have linked a number of drifters together and are sharing conversation as they travel. Not far behind them come six children, each perhaps eight or nine years old, weaving in and out among themselves and laughing. Lazarus hears someone from the group say, "You kids mind your manners!" as they pass beneath. The children laugh and speed away. "Where you"re from doesn't have slidewalks?" Sam asks, seeing how Lazarus is absorbing everything, like a dry sponge plunged in water. "Nothing like this!" Lazarus exclaims. "Some of the larger airports and spaceports have moving walkways but not slidewalks." Lazarus shakes his head. "The Federation can't seem to get past the automobile. Everyone still has to have one or two, even after the cost of hydrogen has gone through the roof." "What did you expect after burning all the fossil fuel?" Tempel growls revealing strong feelings on the subject. "Do you realize over eighty-four million barrels of crude oil and nine million barrels of natural gas were pumped out of the ground daily? 365 days a year? For almost a hundred years? It was all burned! What could they have been thinking? It wasn't the future, that's for certain! What a bloody waste!" "I personally have never even been inside a petroleum powered vehicle," Lazarus responds defensively, "Besides, it wasn't a total waste. It allowed us to build the infrastructure we needed to get to space." "I"ve heard the justifications, I just don't buy them!" Tempel shot back, "It could have and should have happened much sooner. Too many people were making too much money to stop the burning! Luna doesn't have any naturally occurring hydrocarbons so alternatives come to us at great cost. Robotic freighters from distant Titan come in at regular intervals but are not nearly enough to fill the demand. What I find particularly loathsome is you build shrines to the idiots who profited from the biggest rape of resources in the history of mankind!" "Politicians build shrines to each other. I didn't have anything to do with it," Lazarus responds. "Of course you didn't," Sam says. "But it was your government." "And what about the climate change it caused?" Tempel continues, "Earth's intense weather can be directly tied to the release of greenhouse gases. It has resulted in famine, drought, and the rise of sea levels have created 2 billion refugees. If orbital powersats weren't supplying energy to freshen sea water, civilization would have collapsed long ago." He shakes his head, "Your Presidents must have had their head up their collective asses not to do something about global warming when they had the chance!" "Most of that happened before I was even born," Lazarus says. "That's a copout which does nothing to solve the problem." Tempel retorts. "What would you have me do?" Lazarus asks. "I can't fight the Federation." "Here's an idea, why don't you run away and leave it for someone else to fix!" After a moments silence, Tempel nudges Sam, "Come on, let's go! We don't want to be late!" He leads the way down the nearest southbound ramp letting his anger boil away. It's unreasonable to blame this one earthman for the sins of a planet but some things are better felt instead of analyzed. "Don't let Tempel's passion harm you. He realizes it's not your fault anymore than it's his," Sam says taking Lazarus by the arm and following. Reaching the bottom of the ramp, Tempel steps on a drifter with no hesitation and slides out about ten feet and circles back, waiting while Sam and the earthman descend the ramp and join him. He is still angry but now is not the time or place for further discussion. "Magi, pull together a double for us, will you?" Sam says, sensing the distress rise in Lazarus as they approach the edge of the slidewalk. Two of the eight-sided plates rise off the surface and assemble into a single platform, the common edge almost disappearing. It slides over silently and stops right in front of Sam. Sam steps confidently onto the arrangement with practiced ease. "Come on Lazarus, you ride with me," she commands. Lazarus hesitantly follows, expecting the assembly to wobble as he puts his weight on it but finding it rock solid. Sam slides her arm inside of his, steadying him until he can get his sense of balance on the now moving platform. "The first time might be a little tricky," she says squeezing his arm in a motherly fashion. "Let Magi control the drifter, you just let her know where you want to go." Lazarus glances over at Tempel, wondering just how much animosity he will encounter within the Republic. Humanity continues to do many despicable things, preemptive wars, political assassinations, and torture, all in the name of national security or ideology, and he's right, the global environment is in shambles. The melting of the polar ice caps and the subsequent rise in the ocean levels, the terrible increase in storm intensity and massive shifts in climate, have led to widespread starvation and food wars. How can he possibly defend such atrocities? Sam eases them out onto the slidewalk with Tempel bringing up the rear, picking up speed until they are moving along at a leisurely five mph, about the speed of a brisk walk. As Lazarus gains confidence, Sam increases their speed. Magi smoothes out and prevents jerkiness when an arm swings or a head turns. It isn't long before Lazarus relaxes and really begins to enjoy the ride, his second in the last half hour. "This is exhilarating!" Lazarus exclaims. "How fast can we go?" Sam chuckles, "On a good day with no other traffic around you can achieve about twenty mph." "If you want to go somewhere fast, take a maglev train. They top out above a hundred." Tempel adds from just behind Lazarus, a spot where he can catch the earthman if he falls. He may not like it, but Lindsey gave the earthman hospitality and he will not be the one to dishonor her word. "I can't wait to ride in one!" Lazarus responds. As they move along the commonway, Lazarus lets his eye wander among the trees, glad to have the steadying influence of Sam's arm in his. The designers and architects of Aldrin Station knew the value of keeping mystery in the vistas presented to the inhabitants. Moving down the slidewalk, they pass through a variety of environments, each unique. Some are lit up in bright afternoon sunlight, others in the overcast of an impending storm. Some are crowded with hardwood trees while orchards dominate others. Many have roses and other flowering plants set in manicured gardens. Green grass carpets most of the commonway, highlighted with colorful shrubs and plants. A few are polished stone cathedrals devoid of plants and animals, glorious in their simplicity. One section contains strange twisted stonework that surrounds the passing traveler like something out of Dante's Hell. More than once Lazarus observes squirrels running across the grass or playing in the branches of a magnificent tree. Sparrows, parrots, thrushes and many other species flicker about adding a spectacular flash of color, movement, and sound to the environment. Hummingbirds are especially plentiful and beehives are evident in many places. "This is quite beautiful," Lazarus says softly. "I have never seen so many roses!" Sam nods, remembering something Abby once said, "We should always take the time to stop and smell the roses." "Very good advice," Lazarus responds. Sam has spent her entire twenty years in and around Aldrin Station and New London. She yearns to see more, to give herself something to compare with. She glances at Lazarus with just a touch of envy. At least he had the courage to leave Earth and everything familiar. Did she? Sam maneuvers out of the main flow of the commonway, bringing them to a standstill. The drifters settle to the floor. Lazarus does well enough for his first time with just a little wobble. "Well done!" Sam rewards him with a smile. Tempel grunts. After all, Magi deserved praise if anyone did. She had done all the skilled work. This bozo had simply managed not to fall off. 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