“I use it myself.”

“Because you’re an Earthman. Some Earth-people consider it a term of derision and resent it when a Lunarite uses it.”

“You mean when a Lunie uses it?”

Selene flushed. She said, “Yes. That’s about it.”

“Well, then, let’s neither of us cry out at words. Go ahead, you were telling me about your job.”

“On my job, there are these Earthies whom I have to keep from killing themselves and whom I have to take here and there and give little speeches to and make sure they eat and drink and walk by the book. They see their little pet sights and do their little pet things, and I have to be terribly polite and motherly.”

“Awful,” said the Earthman.

“But you and I can do as we please, I hope, and you are willing to take your chances and I don’t have to watch what I say.”

“I told you that you’re perfectly welcome to call me Earthie.”

“All right, then. I’ll have a busman’s holiday. What would you like to do?”

“That’s an easy one to answer. I want to see the proton synchrotron.”

“Not that Maybe Barren can arrange it after you see him.”

“Well, if I can’t see the synchrotron, I don’t know what else there is to see. I know the radio telescope is on the other side and I don’t suppose there’s any novelty in it, anyway. ... You tell me. What doesn’t the average tourist get to see?”

“A number of things. There are the algae rooms—not the antiseptic processing plants, which you’ve seen—but the farms themselves. However, the smell is pretty strong there and I don’t suppose an Earthie—Earthman—would find it particularly appetizing. Earth—men have trouble with the food as it is.”

“Does that surprise you? Have you ever tasted Earth-food?”

“Not really. I probably wouldn’t like it, though. It all depends on what you’re used to.”

“I suppose so,” said the Earthman, sighing. “If you ate a real steak, you’d probably gag at the fat and fiber.”

“We could go to the outskirts where the new corridors are being driven into bedrock, but you’ll have to wear special protective garments. There are the factories—”

“You make the choice, Selene.”

“I will, if you will tell me something honestly.”

“I can’t promise without hearing the question.”

“I said that Earthies that didn’t like Earthies tended to stay on the Moon. You didn’t correct me. Do you intend to stay on the Moon?”

The Earthman stared at the toes of his clumsy boots. He said, “Selene, I had trouble getting a visa to the Moon. They said I might be too old for the trip and that if I stayed any length of time I might find it impossible to return to Earth. So I told them I planned to stay on the Moon permanently.”

“You weren’t lying?”

“I wasn’t sure at the time. But I think I’ll stay here now.”

“I should have thought that they would have been less willing than ever to let you go under those conditions.”

“Why?”

“Generally, the Earth authorities don’t like to send physicists to the Moon on a permanent basis.”

The Earthman’s lips twitched. “In that respect, I had no trouble.”

“Well, then, if you’re going to be one of us, I think you ought to visit the gymnasium. Earthies often want to but we don’t encourage them as a general rule—though it’s not forbidden outright. Immigrants are a different thing.”

“Why?”

“Well, for one thing, we exercise in the nude or near-nude. Why not?” She sounded aggrieved, as though weary of repeating a defensive position. “The temperature is controlled; the environment is clean. It’s just that where people from Earth are expected to be, nudity becomes unsettling. Some Earthies are shocked; some are titillated; and some are both. Well, we’re not going to dress in the gymnasium for their sake, and we’re not going to cope with them, either; so we keep them out.”

“But immigrants?”

“They have to get used to it. In the end, they’ll be discarding clothes, too. And they’ll need the gymnasium even more than the native Lunarites do.”

“I’ll be honest with you, Selene. If I encounter female nudity, I’ll find it titillating, too. I’m not quite so old that I won’t.”

“Well, titillate, then,” she said, indifferently, “but to yourself. Agreed?”

“Do we have to get undressed too?” He looked at her with amused interest.

“As spectators? No. We could, but we don’t have to. You would feel uncomfortable if you did this early in the game and you wouldn’t be a particularly inspiring sight to the rest of us—”

“You are frank!”

“Do you think it would be? Be honest. And as for myself, I have no wish to put you under a special strain in your private titillation. So we might both just as well stay clothed.”

“Will there be any objection? I mean to my being there as an Earthie of uninspirational appearance?”

“Not if I’m with you.”

“Very well, then, Selene. Is it far away?”

“We are there. Just through here.”

“Ah, then, you were planning to come here all the time.”

“I thought it might be interesting.”

“Why?”

Selene smiled suddenly. “I just thought.”

The Earthman shook his head. “I’m beginning to think you never just think. Let me guess. If I’m to stay on the Moon, I will need to exercise now and then in order to keep muscles, bones, and all my organs, perhaps, in condition.”

“Quite true. So do all of us, immigrants from Earth in particular. The day will come when the gymnasium will be a daily grind for you.”

They stepped through a door and the Earthman stared in astonishment. “This is the first place I’ve seen that looks like Earth.”

“In what way?”

“Why it’s big. I didn’t imagine you would have such big rooms on the Moon. Desks, office machinery, women at the desks—”

“Bare-breasted women,” said Selene, gravely.

“That part isn’t Earthlike, I admit.”

“We’ve got a hold-chute, too, and an elevator for Earthies. There are many levels.... But wait.”

She approached a woman at one of the nearer desks, talking in a rapid, low voice while the Earthman stared at everything with amiable curiosity.

Selene returned. “No trouble. And it turns out we’re going to have a melee. A rather good one; I know the teams.”

“This place is very impressive. Really.”

“If you still mean its size, it’s not nearly big enough. We have three gymnasiums. This is the largest.”

“I’m somehow pleased that in the Spartan surroundings of the Moon, you can afford to waste so much room on frivolity.”

“Frivolity!” Selene sounded offended. “Why do you think this is frivolity?”

“Melees? Some sort of game?”

“You might call it a game. On Earth you can do such things for sports; ten men doing, ten thousand watching. It’s not so on the Moon; what’s frivolous for you is necessary for us, ... This way; we’ll take the elevator, which means a little waiting perhaps.”

“Didn’t mean to get you angry.”

“I’m not really angry but you must be reasonable. You Earthmen have been adapted to Earth-gravity for all the three hundred million years since life crawled onto dry land. Even if you don’t exercise, you get by. We’ve had no time at all to adapt to Moon-gravity.”

“You look different enough.”

“If you’re born and reared under Moon-gravity, your bones and muscles are, naturally, slimmer and less massive than an Earthie’s would be, but that’s superficial. There isn’t a bodily function we possess, however subtle— digestion, rates of hormonal secretions—that isn’t maladjusted to gravity and that doesn’t require a deliberate regimen of exercise. If we can arrange exercise in the form of fun and games that does not make it frivolity.... Here’s the elevator.”

The Earthman hung back in momentary alarm, but Selene said, with residual impatience, as though still seething over the necessity of defense. “I suppose you’re going to tell me it looks like a wickerwork basket. Every Earthman who uses it says so. With Moon-gravity, it doesn’t have to be any more substantial.”