Something Made of Vacuum

Working like a precision-trained team, which in fact any two Moon Men chosen at random were, the man and woman on either side of Helene reached their arms behind them to pop open a compartment in their backpacks, pulled out rolls of tape and ran to her. They pulled her up by the arms. Helene’s eyes were wild as she looked from one to the other. In moments, they wrapped tape around both legs of her suit. Another woman had pulled an instrument out of another backpack compartment and ran it over every part of Helene’s space suit. She detected a tiny leak in one elbow and they taped that as well. Other dancers crowded around to offer Helene words of comfort, but the original three spoke not at all until their repairs were done.

“Helene, it’s okay!” Carmela said urgently. “You’re tight now! Relax, breathe, it’s okay.”

Tom came bounding over at the same moment the band realized what was happening and stopped playing. “Tom, I ...” Helene said, and could go no further, gasping and swallowing.

“God almighty,” Tom said. “What the hell kind of engineers do you have on Earth? This suit is a piece of crap! You’re trusting your life to something made on a sewing machine?”

The bride and groom ran to them, and Yeni put a hand on Helene’s shoulder, a gesture that was not common for Moon Men. After a moment, Yeni stepped back and raised her voice to address everyone.

“This is my wedding day,” Yeni said. “We are not going to have bad stories about my wedding day. Gregor, honey, we’ve got to get this woman a decent suit. Can we set up a fund?”

“I’m on it,” Gregor said. “Give me a minute, I’ll set up a bank account.”

“Everybody,” Yeni said, “will you help us turn this around? We’ll get her back to air town, but then poor Helene couldn’t ever come back here without a new suit. Gregor and I will put in … I don’t know, forty sequins? Are we okay with that, babe? … Okay, we’ll put in forty. We haven’t bought suits in my family in years. What does a Moon suit go for these days?”

“About five hundred fifty,” somebody called out. “You two don’t need to put in that much.”

“Gregor, you got that donation account?” someone else asked.

“Here you go,” Gregor said. Helene looked from one to another as text scrolled up the inner surfaces of everyone’s helmets except hers.

“Helene, I got you into this,” Tom said. “I’m in for fifty sequins.”

Voices from the crowd added “Twenty,” “Fifteen,” “Twenty-five.”

In three minutes Yeni said, “Made it! Thank you all, I love you folks! Tom, will you get this woman into town before something else busts? Helene, we’re going to get you a real Moon Man suit. Nobody on Earth knows how to make the suits we live in. I mean, seams? Honest to God, what were they thinking?”

“Thank you! This is …” Helene said, crying again.

“Honey, it’s okay. We’re glad to do it. You come back when you’re dressed decently.”

“Is this wedding still going to be going on?” Helene managed to ask.

“No,” Yeni said. “Even Moon Men can’t party that long.”

“Sure we can!” somebody yelled. “I didn’t get in on the suit, so beer for everybody!”

“Yang, we’re paying for the beer,” Gregor said.

“That’s why everybody can have another one!”

“Tom, get going,” Yeni said. “Helene, we’re going into town for our honeymoon starting tonight, so maybe we’ll see you there, okay? You just don’t move your legs and arms more than you have to, and Tom’ll get you set up. Everybody, give Helene a send-off!” Everyone cheered and waved goodbye. The music started up again as they walked away.

The monorail station was on Sinus Amoris Field, at the pressurized passenger terminal building. Tom led Helene out of the village, carefully walking only on the designated streets until they stepped onto the field. Once there, he headed diagonally across the various landing pads, which were also nothing but bare ground marked off into large squares. A spherical spaceship was coming down on the far side of the field, cradled in a tugboat frame piloted by a Moon Man.

“That was really nice of them, to kick in for a suit,” Helene finally said. “I thought I was going to die.”

“Well,” Tom said, looking at her, “with that tight suit you’re wearing, probably the worst that would have happened would be some big, sore, red strawberry marks on your legs. But I’m sure we got to you in time to prevent that. You should be fine.” Helen was walking like a clumsy crab, trying not to bend her knees. She sashayed back and forth, trying to keep up.

“This place is so scary,” she said. “How do you live, knowing everything in the environment is trying to kill you?”

“Everything?” Tom said, grinning. “Helene, there’s nothing here. Vacuum is nothing, and all this Moon dust is not nothing but it isn’t worth much, either. Nothing is scary. I guess I mean that nothing isn’t scary.” He continued, “Tourists always think there must be some beautiful scenery on the Moon, but the truth is it’s all dusty flat ground or rounded hills, pretty much the same everywhere. Our environment is each other.”

“I sort of thought you must have a bunch of special words for different kinds of Moon dust.”

“Like that thing where the Eskimos are supposed to have a lot of words for snow? Nah. We just call it ‘dust’ if we talk about it at all, which we hardly ever do. By the way, that’s another advantage of getting an actual Moon suit – the dust won’t stick to it. You’re filthy from trying to dance in that fabric suit.”

“It’ll be good to get back into town. I’m going to hit the hotel and take a shower,” Helene sighed.

They walked up to the passenger terminal, with the monorail overhead disappearing into an airlock above their heads. To Helene’s surprise, Tom led her around the building to the back. There was a Moon Man attendant there, crouched down to work on some machinery. The backpack of his suit was decorated with a brightly-colored cartoon of a popular local band, all depicted in their Moon suits as well.

“Hey, Jimbo,” Tom said. “Get us a rack to town, okay?”

“Hi, Tom,” the man said, standing and turning. He looked askance at Helene.

“She’s from Earth,” Tom explained.

“Hi, Miss,” Jimbo said. “Aren’t you going to want to go inside and ride in the car?”

“Oh, we’re going to get her a Moon suit and then she’ll be one of the gang,” Tom said. “Helene, I know you rode the pressurized car out here from town, but let’s go back Moon Man style. This is cool, trust me.”

“Jimbo,” Helene said, smiling, “Tom’s kind of … you know. If he says it’s cool, should I believe him?”

Jimbo bowed, with a smile. “Yeah, you’re coming to know our Tom. But it’ll be okay. I’m pretty sure you’ll like it.”

“Well, thank you.”

They waited a moment while Jimbo disappeared into a storage shed. “Tom,” Helene said, “do you know everybody in the village?”

“Sinus Amoris village is only about a thousand people,” Tom said. “This is a fairly small landing field. Of those, I guess I’ve met everybody who’s on my shift, which would be about a third of that. We have to work around the clock, so everybody is on a particular shift. My family works first shift, midnight to eight Greenwich time, along with Jimbo here.”

“I didn’t think of that,” Helene said. “What time of day is it for you?”

“Evening,” Tom said. “I’m okay. I wouldn’t usually sleep for a couple of hours yet. Ah, here comes our rack.”

Jimbo returned pulling a metal frame like a two-seat ski lift, suspended a meter off the ground by two cables from a small bogie mounted on the monorail. Tom asked “Ready?” and while Helene was still considering her answer, lifted her up and put her into one of the seats. Jimbo held the frame steady, then reached across her lap and tightened a seat belt around her. Tom climbed aboard and fastened himself in.

“Get going,” Jimbo said. “The shuttle to town leaves in about a minute.”

“Okay, and thanks, Jimbo!” Tom said. He touched a control on the armrest and the bogie began to move.

“You two have a good time!” Jimbo called.

“She’s here on a business trip!” Tom yelled back. The bogie accelerated smoothly, floating on superconducting magnets a little distance above the rail, and they lifted and headed toward Theophrastus Crater.

Behind them, the airlock opened and the pressurized car holding travelers from eight planets left the terminal and followed them. Helene could just barely turn back to look at them. She saw faces staring at them out of the front window.

“I didn’t see anybody riding like this when I came out from town,” she said, yelling as though she needed to shout over the noise of wind. When she realized the ride was silent, she lowered her voice.

“This is how we always to go town,” Tom said. “We take up a lot of space if we get in the gondola with the regular passengers, so we do it this way.”

“Why do they let you?”

“Moon Men run the monorail. Moon Men run everything outside of town except the spaceships, and the spaceships couldn’t go if we didn’t load them and fix them up and all.”

Helene said “Whee!” as the rail turned. Their feet swung outward. She found herself looking up at the thickly spattered stars, and as they straightened up, looking down at the dark ground zipping by below them. Their Earth-light shadow scampered over the hills and craters of the moonscape.

The rail joined another line coming from the east. Their rack sailed over the junction and they were riding just behind an unmanned cargo pod. “That’s from Mare Crisium,” Tom remarked, pointing to it. The cargo pod sped up a little on its linear induction motor to keep a distance from them. “They’re shipping aluminum nuggets to a factory outside town, that forms them up to be exported to Earth. The company is run by air-towners but the actual work is done outside by Moon Men.”

“How do you know that?” Helene asked. “I don’t see any markings.” Tom pointed a finger to the text scrolling across his helmet just below his eye level, and Helene said, “Oh, yeah.” The cargo pod was swinging a little after making its turns, and Tom and Helene were swinging as well on a different, faster rhythm. Looking at the cargo pod made her a little queasy, so Helene looked up at the stars until the rack stopped rocking.

“This is nothing like riding in the gondola,” Helene remarked. “When I came out I was the only one in a spacesuit. I had my faceplate up, and I was chatting with a couple from Nova Terra and we were drinking coffee. The windows were all darkened because, you know, it was Day. They were going to visit their kids on a planet called Amity.”

“It’s fun to ride to ride the monorail during the Day, too,” Tom said. “But yeah, it’s prettier at Night. Tourists never really see much of the Moon, and they don’t see us – you know, Moon Men – at all. They stay in the air, we’re outside. A lot of people don’t even know we’re here. I guess they think the work all gets done by elves or something.”

“Tom,” Helene said hesitantly, “I’m new here and nobody on Earth knows much about you either. The company sent me to you because you buy spices through us. What do Moon Men do, anyway?”

“There are eight planets in the Ecumene, and every path between one and the other involves a layover here on the Moon. We’re stevedores and longshoremen and ship’s chandlers at the field, and mechanics and factory workers everywhere else. We do all the work that has to get done outside of the pressurized cities and buildings. I mean, we’re nobody special. Mostly we’re employees of companies that have offices in the air towns. But we’ve got some things people in air town never see. Honest, Helene, look up at the sky. Isn’t this something you’re glad you could do?”

“It’s glorious,” Helene said, and was rapt and silent for a long while. Eventually she said, “But you own your own business, right?”

“Yeah, and I’m a real titan of industry. I have two employees. They’re both part-time, high-school kids. Actually, I’m kind of unusual because I rent a pressurized building out by the field. You can’t handle spices in vacuum, they dry out and taste bad.”

“Couldn’t the Moon Men have their own pressurized buildings out by the port, and come inside at the end of the day?”

“We like it this way,” Tom said. “Besides, getting in and out of these suits is kind of a process. You need a technician to get out of a Moon suit, and then more help getting back in. It’s easier just to stay suited up. Look, we’re coming into town. This is a pretty good view, too.”

Theophrastus Crater City was a ring wall of rock nine kilometers across, topped by a low dome of clear plastic stabilized by a web of titanium cables. The dome was twelve meters thick and filled with water that harbored algae to supply food and oxygen to the city. During the Day it basked in the sunlight, but at Night it was lit by lamps from below. It bulged up like a cabochon emerald, glowing green and alive in contrast to the dead gray of the lunar landscape around it, beautiful and defiant against the vacuum and cold stars.

The rail split in several directions. The cargo pod was switched one way, they were sent another and when Helene looked back, she could see that the passenger gondola had been sent to yet a different destination.

The rail rose up, and they were delivered silently and swiftly to an open door where the rim of the crater met the dome. The rack braked to a stop inside a metal-walled room decorated with safety posters Helene did not have time to read, as well as a big pressure gauge mounted on the wall. An airlock door slid shut behind them. Tom said, “This gate is just for Moon Men. We don’t have to go through all of the checks tourists go through.” He unbuckled and jumped off, then helped Helene unclip her seat belt. They stood side by side until the air pressure reached normal.

However, the inner door did not open. A video display flicked on in front of them, showing a policeman in a yellow uniform. “Hello, Thomas Easterday,” he said. “Who’s your companion?”

“Helene Friedman of Earth,” Tom said. “Sorry, I forgot you can’t read her.”

“Helene Friedman, please open your faceplate and face the camera. You are already registered in Theophrastus?”

“Yes, I am,” Helene said. “The Hacienda Hotel.”

“Got it,” the policeman said. “Welcome to our city. In the future, we ask you to please use the regular passenger gate.” The screen went dark and the inner door rolled up to show them the interior of the city.

“No problem,” Tom said. “Once we get you a Moon suit, you’ll be identified and you can go anywhere.” Tom detached his helmet – a process of several steps – pulled it off and tucked it under one arm. Without it, his head looked foolishly small compared to the suit body. He had sandy blonde hair, cut short, and ordinary, pleasant features.

“I don’t think I can get this helmet off by myself,” Helene said. “The technician put it on.”

Tom looked at it and said, “I don’t want to guess how to do that. But can you open the faceplate?”

“I can.” The faceplate was hinged at the top. Helene opened it, looking even sillier than Tom with the curved plastic over her head like an Easter bonnet. She breathed the air deeply. “Well, here we are,” she said, as they entered the dome. “Breathing air. Together.”

“Yeah,” Tom said glumly. “Did you ever think that the air you’re breathing in was previously breathed out of the wet lungs of a couple of thousand other people in this dome?”

“That’s how air works,” Helene said lightly. “Come on, where is this Moon suit shop?”

“It’s on Elm Street,” Tom said. “It’s not too far from this gate. Do you want to walk? Or should we call a cab?”

“A cab,” Helene said definitely. “It’s hard to walk in this rubber girdle.”

Apparently Tom’s helmet was still networked to his suit even when it was removed. He held it in front of him and studied the display scrolling up the inner surface, then said, “It’ll be a couple of minutes. Cabs are all busy right now, for some reason.”

Theophrastus City was a ring of low mountains around a plain that was fifty city blocks across, although about half of it was farmland. The dome that was so beautifully lit in the Night when seen from outside, was a dull green when seen from beneath.

The inner crater walls were built up with apartments holding the city’s permanent residents, the flat roof of one dwelling serving as the patio of the house above. They also supported zig-zag streets, offices, schools and open-air cafes.

The flat crater floor served travelers who were waiting out layovers between ships. The biggest buildings were neon-flashing casinos and hotels. There were restaurants promising the cuisines of every planet of the Ecumene. Strip clubs, bars, brothels, sports arenas, music halls and every other kind of amusement all vied to separate tourists from their money.

“The sky looks like storm clouds,” Helene said. “That’s kind of depressing.”

“Does it?” Tom said. “It’s green. I thought storm clouds were gray? Anyway, it’s a lot nicer during the Day. Doesn’t seem to have stopped the bird-men, though.” In one-sixth gravity, it was possible to strap on a pair of rental wings and fly under the dome, and the air was full of flying tourists. They fell out of the sky fairly often – a young woman in the air right in front them suddenly turned too sharply and fell, waving her wings wildly, down to the floor of the plaza. She landed on her shoulder without much injury, protected by the weak gravity, and a flight instructor stooped in response, holding his wings together over his head. The instructor fell relatively quickly, catching himself with a sudden snap of his wings two meters off the ground, and landed deftly beside his student.

“I haven’t had the courage to try that yet,” Helene said. “I suppose I should, while I’m here.”

“I never have either,” Tom said. “It always looked dangerous to me.”

“Well, you can relax for a while,” Helene said. “It’s safe in here.”

“I guess. Truth is, I get anxious while I’m around crowds … I mean, crowds of people with their faces hanging out and … that sounds neurotic, doesn’t it? Anyway, I relax when I’m back out in vacuum. Depends on what you’re used to, I suppose.”

The cab arrived, an open car with four seats. Tom was obliged to sit in the back row because his suit took up more than one seat. He spoke into a microphone to enter their destination and the cart rolled silently down a sloping road to the city floor.

The car took them through plazas and streets crowded with travelers. In the unchanging pleasant weather of the domed crater, clothing was largely optional. Tourists strolled about in the national costumes of all the nations on all the planets. Helene took it all in with interest, but Tom looked uncomfortable and somewhat scandalized.

The men among the tourists wore costumes ranging from business suits (one-piece coveralls in sober dark colors, with a contrasting stripe down the pants legs) to blissfully unattractive vacation wear: shorts with or without a shirt, sandals, funny hats, togas, pajamas and in many cases complete nudity.

Some of the women were nude as well, while others sought comfort in prissy complete cover-ups – chadors, Mother Hubbard gowns, tailored suits, sack dresses. Most of them, however, appeared to be taking advantage of traveling to wear clothing that was sexier than good taste would allow back home. They wore outfits which presented whatever portion of the anatomy was usually hidden in their culture. Their garments variously emphasized the breasts, buttocks, belly, face or legs of the wearer, to better or worse effect.

The Moon Men in the crowd wore their huge, brightly-decorated space suits with helmets off. Other people collided with their hard shells as they walked on the boulevards.

Elm Street, at the corner of Sixth Avenue, was lined with small shops offering clothing from all of the various worlds, for those who wanted the clothing of their home planets and those who specifically wanted something different. Tom led the way to a shop with an unusually wide and high door, marked “Sarro’s Engineered Garments.”

They were met by a stout, gray-haired woman in a summery long dress. She wore a wide device mounted on a wrist band and glanced at the display as they entered, then smiled and said, “Come on in, Tom.”

“Hi, Oksana,” Tom said. “How are you? Oksana, this is Helene Friedman. Helene, this is Oksana Sarros. My family’s been buying suits at her store for a long time.” Helene said hello.

She looked sharply at the tape holding Helene’s suit together. “Dear,” she said, “I’m so glad you’re all right! You had a seam open? That suit is from Pressure Protection in New Jersey, isn’t it?”

“Is it? I guess so,” Helene said. “You recognize it?”

“I’m in the business. You are at least the third person we’ve had from Earth who has come to us to replace that model of suit, although I must say nobody else had a rupture while they were outside. That’s horrible! Those suits must be cheap, because I can’t imagine why else anybody would buy one. Probably somebody else picked that out for you, right?” Helene nodded.

“Do you really need a space suit?” Oksana continued. “I don’t want you to think I don’t want your business, but if you’re going back to Earth, you won’t need a pressure suit. Even if you’re going on somewhere else, most places you won’t need a suit.”

“We’re going to get her a Moon suit,” Tom said. “Here’s the account information to pay for it.”

“A Moon suit?” Oksana asked.

“Yes,” Tom said.

“Well, if that’s what you want. Actually, we just fitted your little nephew Joseph with a larger suit last week,” Oksana said. “But I don’t think I’ve ever sold a Moon suit to somebody who didn’t come in already wearing one.”

“It is kind of unusual,” Tom said.

“Helene, is this what you want?” Oksana asked.

“Um, what am I signing up for? I guess I do. They bought it for me because I can’t wear this suit anymore.”

“I promise that when you trade that one in, I will never let anybody wear it again. Okay dear, you come with me. It will take a while to get you fitted. You probably don’t have a bank account on the Moon, do you?”

“No. Why would I need a bank account?”

“You can’t wear a Moon suit without a bank account. I’ll get you all set up. Welcome to the Moon!”

“I’ll just wait here,” Tom said.

“You will not,” Oksana said with asperity. “You go away somewhere and we’ll call you when Helene is dressed. Now shoo!”

Tom said, “Okay, okay. I’ll go get a drink or something. Oksana, find her a nice suit, will you? If there’s not enough money, I can chip in some more.”

“Certainly,” Oksana said. “Now out you go. Helene, come on into the back room.” As Tom was leaving, she said to Helene, “Men! As if I couldn’t figure out what he’s hoping to see.”

“All of those tourist women and their weird clothes,” Helene said. “I guess he can see anything he wants to, sitting outside.”

“Except you, dear,” Oksana said. She closed the door behind them.