Question of Comfort | Page 6

* * * * *
We were sitting in an administration office at the park. I now
recognized the symptoms; when the GG had no real problems, its
collective mind usually turned to my health. I wouldn't admit it, but I
felt a little peaked. Little? Hell, bone-tired, dog-weary pooped. Seemed
every motion was effort, but soon it would end.
The phone rang. With the message, it was ended.
"Let's go, grouseketeers."
There was almost a pregnant pause. Six months: conception of the idea
to delivery of finished product; six months, working together, fighting
men, nature, and the perversity of inanimate objects--all of this now
was done.
No one moved; Frank verbalized it: "I'm scared." She sounded scared.
"Better than being petrified, which I am," I answered. "But we might as
well face it."
We dragged over to the TS building, an impressive structure.
The guide played it straight, told us exactly how to suit up. Then, in the
cart, we edged into the tunnel that was the first lock, and--warned to set
our filters--emerged onto the blinding surface of Mercury.

We felt the heat momentarily--Mercury and Venus were kept at a
constant 140 F, the others at 0 F--but it was a deliberate thrill. Then
cool air from the cart suit-connections began circulating.
Bonestell was magnificent, as always. Yellow landscape, spatter cones,
glittering streaks that might be metal in the volcanic ground--created by
dusting ground mica on wet glue to catch the reflection of the sun. It
was a masterpiece.
The sun. Black sky holding a giant, blazing ball. Too damned yellow,
but filtered carbon arcs were the best we could do.
Down, into the tunnel that was lock two. This next one ... Venus,
obvious opposition point of attack, where we'd had the most trouble:
Venus had to be right.
It was! A blast of wind struck us, and dust, swirling everywhere. We'd
discovered there's no such thing as a sand storm--it's really dust--so
we'd taken pains making things look right. Sand dunes were carefully
cemented in place; dust rippling over gave the proper illusion.
Oddly shaped rocks, dimly seen, strengthened the impression of
wind-abraded topography. Rocks were reddish, overlain by smears of
bright yellow. Lot of trouble placing all that flowers of sulfur, but we
postulated a liquid sulfur-sulfur dioxide-carbon dioxide cycle.
Overhead, a diffused, intense yellow light. The sun--we were on the
daylight side.
I sighed, relaxed, knowing this one had worked out.
We gave the moon little time. For those who had become homesick,
Earth was hanging magnificently in the sky. At a crater wall, we
stopped, ostensibly to let souvenir hunters pick at small pieces of lunar
rock without leaving the cart.
We'd argued hours on what type to use, till Mel dragged out his rock
book. Most, automatically, had wanted basalt. However, the moon's

density being low, heavier rocks are probably scarce--one good reason
not to expect radioactive ores there. We finally settled for rhyolite and
obsidian.
Stopping on the moon had another purpose. We kept the room
temperature at 70 F, for heating and cooling economy; the transition
from Venus to Mars was much simpler if ambient temperature dropped
from 140 to 70 and from 70 to 0, rather than straight through the range.
* * * * *
Next, a Martian polar cap, and we looked down a long canal that
disappeared on the horizon. Water appeared to run uphill for that effect.
The whole scene looked like an Arizona highway at dusk--what it
should have. To our right, a suggestion of--damn the opposition's
eyes--culture: a large stone whatzit. It was a jarring note.
We selected one of those nondescript asteroids with just enough
diameter to show extreme curvature. Frank had done magnificently. I
found myself hanging onto the cart. Headlights deliberately dimmed,
on the rocky surface, the cart bumped wildly. The sky was black,
broken only by little, hard chunks of light. No horizon. The feeling of
being ready to drop was intense, possibly too much so.
Europa, then, in a valley of ice. We'd picked Jupiter's third moon
because its frozen atmosphere permitted some eerie pseudo-ice
sculpturing. As we moved, Jupiter appeared between breaks and peaks
in the sheer wall. Worked nicely, seeing the monstrous planet distended
overhead, like a gaily colored beach ball moving with us, as the moon
from a train window. Unfortunately, the ice forms detracted somewhat.
Mimas, pitch black, then a glow. Stark landscape quickly becoming
visible. Steep cliffs, rocky plain. Saturn rising. The rings, their shadow
on the globe, the beauty of it, made me sit stunned, though I knew what
to expect.
The guide warned us radar spotted an approaching object, probably a
meteor. We ran, the cart at maximum speed--not much, really. It tore at

you, wanting to stare at Saturn, wanting to duck.
Hit