Men of Good Will

Men of Good Will

By Ben Bova

“Americans and Russians,” the UN man went on, “have fired at each other from orbiting satellite vehicles. They have exchanged shots at both the North and South Poles. Career diplimats have scuffed like prizefighters in the halls of the United Nations building -”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Oh, yes. We have kept it quite, of course. But the tensions are becoming unbearable. Everywhere on Earth the two sides are armed to the teeth and on the verge of disaster. Even in space they fight. And yet, here on the moon, you and the Russians live side by side in peace. We must know how you do it!”

Patton grinned. “You came on a very appropriate day, in that case. Well, let’s see now… how to present the picture. You know that the environment here is extremely hostile: airless, low gravity.

“The environment here on the moon,” Torgeson objected, “is no more hostile than that of orbiting satellites. In fact, you have some gravity, solid ground, large buildings – many advantages that artificial satellites lack. Yet there has been fighting aboard the satellites – and not on the moon. Please don’t waste my time with platitudes. This trip is costing the UN too much money. Tell me the truth.”

Patton nodded. “I was going to. I’ve checked the information sent up by Earthbase: you’ve been cleared by the White House, the AEC, NASA and even the Pentagon.

Remembering men of good will. Photo by Elena

“So?”

“Okey. The plain truth of the matter is…” A soft chime from a small clock on Patton’s desk interrupted him. “Oh. Excuse me.”

Torgeson sat back and watched as Patton carefully began clearing off all the articles on his desk: the clock, calendar, phone, IN/OUT baskets, tobacco can and pipe rack, assorted papers and reports – all neatly and quickly placed in the desk drawers. Patton then stood up. Walked to the filing cabinet, and closed the metal drawers firmly. He stood in the middle of the room, scanned the scene with apparent satisfaction, and then glanced at his wristwatch.

“Okey”, he said to Torgeson. “Get down on your stomach.”

“What?”

“Like this,” the colonel said, and prostrated himself on the rubberized floor.

Torgeson stared at him.

“Come on! There’s only a few seconds.”