Over the Darkened Landscape - By Derryl Murphy Page 0,17
said they knew it must be important, and that was why Jack was on this mission. Even if it was only contact with whoever tended the gardens.
It seemed now like he was upside-down, land rushing to greet him as he plummeted towards a crushing impact. But at the last minute Jack activated the forward parasol, and in the ensuing shadow the stalks twisted and twirled in their desperate search for moonlight. The vehicle did a stomach-wrenching spin and then settled down on the surface of the Moon as light as a feather.
Jack switched on the choralis. “The Aquila has landed,” he said, sure they wouldn’t be able to hear him, but still wanting to follow the established procedures.
The speakers responded with more Firmamental interference, a high, soft voice saying, “Ningún angel está a salvo en este lugar. ¡Ten cuidado! ¡Ten cuidado!”
A twist of the handle and the latch popped open. It was daytime here, as opposed to night back on Earth. Jack supposed this made sense, with the face of the Moon being lit so bright with every pass it made overhead.
He unbuckled himself and sat straight up, leaning over to get as good a look as he could through his helmet. He had landed on soil, dark gray dirt that looked to have the consistency of the fine chalk one of his old schoolmasters had used when summoning a demon for lessons. In the distance he could see a band of green, and beyond that what looked to be fog. Overhead sat the Earth, a broad blue and brown disk, and beyond it sat the Sun, harsh yellow peeking out from behind its (Earth-related) nighttime hiding spot along the Universal Plane.
Hefting his dephlogisticator, he swung his legs over the edge and gingerly set foot on the surface of the Moon. He felt lighter here, enough to possibly make a significant difference in his step. Choralis still on and still whispering scratchy nonsense, he announced, “That’s a small footstep for one man; a giant reach for much of mankind.” He smiled. Suitably overdone, just what the guys back on Earth would like.
The high foreheads and all of the astrologers had predicted that the Lunar day would be longer than an Earth day, and today the full moon was due to sit visible in the sky for several hours after the Sun poked its nose over the Plane again. All this meant that Jack had extra time to explore, but not enough to waste. He had to take care of his assignment and get back down the beanstalk before it wilted away when the moonlight disappeared.
Resting his dephlogisticator on the ground beside him, Jack reached back into the Aquila and began pulling out supplies. A small backpack with food and medical and foraging supplies came first, followed by a small bag that held his camera distincta and camera activus. He pulled both of these from their bag and took both still and moving images of the surrounding landscape, as well as of the Earth overhead.
Checking the wristband on the outside of his suit, he found that his compass didn’t work; it seemed that the high foreheads and astrologers were right and that the Moon did not have a population of tiny lode-mites to tell the hand which way to point. Jack knew that whatever was behind the fog was most likely his destination, but he would need a method to find his way back to the beanstalk when it was time to descend.
He rummaged through his supply pack for a moment, first pulling out a loaf of bread. That idea was swiftly ruled out by a memory of something that had happened to two of his mother’s cousins when they were children, many years before; he wasn’t sure if there were birds and rodents on the Moon, but he didn’t want to chance it. He finally settled on a bag of brightly-colored clarifying beads, carried with him as trade goods in case there were primitive natives in charge of the gardens. He dropped the first bead to make sure that it would work, watched as a mirror image of himself and his surroundings rose up out of the dust, then from the corner of his eye watched it slowly slink back into the bead as he turned away.
There was only one thing left to do before he started on his way. Reaching back into the Aquila, he pulled from it a small glass tubule, stoppered with a cork. Inside sat a