Phases of Gravity Read Online Free PDF Page A

hair back behind her ear in a gesture that was already becoming familiar to Baedecker. "There's a place near where my grandparents live in western South Dakota," she said. "A volcanic cone north of the Black Hills, on the edge of the prairie. It's called Bear Butte. I used to climb it when I was little while Grandad and Memo waited for me down below. Years later I learned that it was a holy place for the Sioux. But even before that—when I stood up there and looked over the prairie—I knew it was special."
    Baedecker nodded. "High places do that," he said. "There's a place I like to visit—a little Christian Science college—way out in the boonies on the Illinois side of the Mississippi River, not far from St. Louis. The campus is right on the bluffs over the river. There's a tiny chapel right near the edge, and you can walk out on some ledges and see halfway across Missouri."
    "Are you a Christian Scientist?"
    The question and her expression were so serious that Baedecker had to laugh. "No," he said, "I'm not religious. I'm not . . . anything." He had a sudden image of himself kneeling in the lunar dust, the stark sunlight a benediction.
    The autorickshaw had been stuck in traffic behind several trucks. Now it roared around to pass on the right, and Maggie had to almost shout her next comment. "Well, I think it's more than the view. I think some places have a power of their own."
    Baedecker smiled. "You could be right."
    She turned to him and her green eyes were also smiling. "And I could be wrong," she said. "I could be full of shit. This country will turn anybody into a mystic. But sometimes I think that we spend our whole lives on a pilgrimage to find places like that."
    Baedecker looked away and said nothing.
    The moon had been a great, bright sandbox and Baedecker was the only person in it. He had driven the Rover over a hundred meters from the landing module and parked it so that it could send back pictures of the lift-off. He undid the safety belt and vaulted off the seat with the one-armed ease that had become second nature in the low gravity. Their tracks were everywhere in the deep dust. Ribbed wheel tracks swirled, intersected themselves, and headed off to the north where the highlands glared white. Around the ship itself the dust had been stamped and packed down like snow around a cabin.
    Baedecker bounced around the Rover. The little vehicle was covered with dust and badly used. Two of the light fenders had fallen off, and Dave had jerry-rigged some plastic maps to keep clods of dirt from being kicked up onto them. The camera cable had become twisted a dozen times and even now had to be rescued by Baedecker. He bounced easily to the front of the Rover, freed the cable with a tug, and dusted off the lens. A glance told him that Dave was already out of sight in the LM.
    "Okay, Houston, it looks all right. I'll get out of the way here. How is it?"
    "Great, Dick. We can see the Discovery and . . . ahh . . . we should be able to track you on the lift-off."
    Baedecker watched with a critical eye as the camera pivoted to the left and to the right. It aimed at his waist and then tracked up to its full lock position. He could imagine the image it was sending. His dusty space suit would be a glare of white, broken by occasional straps, snaplocks, and the dark expanse of his visor. He would have no face.
    "Good," he said. "Okay. Well . . . ah . . . you have anything else you want me to do?"
    ". . . tiv . . ."
    "Say again, Houston?"
    "Negative, Dick. We're running a little over. Time to get aboard."
    "Roger."
    Baedecker turned to take one last look at the lunar terrain. The glare of the sun wiped out most surface features. Even through his darkest visor the surface was a brilliant, white emptiness. It matched his thoughts. Baedecker was irritated to find his mind full of details—the prelaunch checklist, storage procedures, an irritatingly full bladder—all crowding in and not allowing him to think.