“Well I’ll be damned!” exploded the President. “This is a pretty how
d’ye do. Gone just when we need him most.”
“I’m sorry,” answered Roger, “but he hoped to be able to stop the war by
this trip. If there’s anything I can do—”
“Maybe there is,” said the President, with forced calmness. “Perhaps you
can explain some things that I had hoped he could explain. For instance,
what is the cause of this intensely cold weather in the middle of the
summer, and why does the moonlight appear green?”
“We can’t see the moon from here,” replied Roger, “and it’s not cold.
There is a terrific storm raging, plenty of lightning, rain and wind,
but no cold.”
“A devastating cold wave has spread over this part of the country,
affecting Washington and Baltimore, and extending as far south as
Richmond,” said the President. “The Potomac is frozen solid, and
although we have our heating plants going to the utmost capacity, it is
impossible to keep warm. Thousands of people, caught unexpectedly, have
perished from the intense cold. My thermometer here in the White House
registers 10° above zero. Outside, I am told the thermometers have
dropped under 60° below zero, Fahrenheit.”
“And you say the moon looks green?”
“As green as grass. The country is bathed in a weird, green light at
this moment.”
“Must be some connection,” mused Roger, “I mean between the green light
and the intense cold localized around Washington. Wish Mr. Dustin were
here.”
“But he isn’t,” snapped the President, “so see what _you_ can find out,
and report back, either by radiovisiphone or in person at your earliest
convenience. Off!”
As the face of the President disappeared from the disc, Roger slumped
down in his chair and lighted a cigarette. What should he do? What could
he do?
There was a tap at the door.
“Come in,” he said, listlessly.
Professor Ederson entered.
“No use to try to use the radio tonight,” he said. “With the unknown
interference we have been getting lately and this storm, it would be
useless to try to communicate with the moon. I had our operator notify
all stations that we wouldn’t attempt it tonight.”
“Hear about the cold snap in the east?” asked Roger.
“Yes. Got it on the small set just before I came down. Terrible thing,
isn’t it?”
“And about the green moonlight?”
“Yes. Some new wrinkle of the Lunites, I fancy. They are clever and
resourceful and, for all we know, a thousand years ahead of us in
scientific knowledge.”
“What do you suppose it is?”
“I don’t know. An observation might be made from here, seeing that this
part of the country is unaffected, if it were not for the raging storm.
But it would be suicidal to go up in an electroplane just now.”
“If I thought there were anything to be learned, I’d go up,” said Roger,
“danger or no danger.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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