Lisa had known all this, but known it as one knows, for instance, that the diameter of Earth is 7928 miles; now she was learning it first-hand, as one knows the diameter of a plum is small enough to be held inside one’s hand. And it was awkward, always, because everyone--bar Chris and Phil--took it for granted that she knew already. Naturally, Johnny would have told her everything; naturally, she’d have seen the slides and films, read the records, heard the stories over and again. But--naturally--she knew nothing, except what she had read in public print, heard from Phil Kutler, or pieced together from Johnny’s infrequent, oblique, and most often uncompleted references. If he even owned any slides or pictures, Lisa did not know about it; she finally had to ask to see the stereos of the Martian “city”--the crumbling ruins of whatever civilization had once existed there. Then, when they found out that she really never _had_ seen anything, they brought the whole works out for her: Marscapes and space shots and all the “Mars-bug” micro-shots that were not _too_ classified to show. And all the time, wherever she went, whatever she did, right outside and visible every time you crossed the mall, was the Beyond, the still-unborn world of the Moon, and Space itself, the stuff of dreams that ruled the whole life of a man like Peter Christensen--that _had_ ruled, guided, channelled Johnny’s life, until-- Till what? Till he went out too far? Till he woke up? Until the big dream turned to a steady nightmare for some reason no one, Phil or Chris, Johnny, or she herself, quite knew. The strange thing was, the more she learned, the more she understood, about the John Wendt she had never met, the harder it was to think of going home to the sad travesty of the whole man who waited for her back on Earth. Well, not yet quite on Earth: it was now Sunday afternoon, and he would be en route along the Belt from Perigee--or even spiraling downward in the Earth bird by now. Since Thursday night, he would have been in the same state of drugged calm in which they had both awakened just enough to take nourishment and eliminate wastes, still half-unaware, all the way up. “Well, that’s about it....” Lisa pulled herself out of her private world of worry and wonderment, and followed Thad back up the ramps. “About the only thing you haven’t seen yet is the Shack,” he was saying. “Shack?” “Outside,” he explained. “We figured the easiest way to study these babies at Moon conditions was right out there on the Moon. You’ve probably seen the Shack from your window. You’re in North Hall, aren’t you?” “Yesss ... oh, of course. I thought--” She giggled, realizing for the first time how absurd the immediate assumption had been. “I thought it was some kind of _guard_ house.”