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Updated: June 19, 2025
She regarded him from a contour-chair exactly opposite his. She said happily: "Mr. West and Mr. Jamison are the science men, Mr. Cochrane. I got Mr. Bell as the writer." "A great triumph!" Cochrane told her. "Did you get any idea what all this is about? Why we're going up?" "No," admitted Babs cheerfully. "I haven't the least idea. But I'm going to the moon!
This was nearly normal acceleration; the effect of this acceleration was the feel of nearly normal weight. He felt about as one would feel in Earth in a contour-chair tilted back so that one faced the ceiling. He knew approximately where the ship would be by this time, and it ought to have been a thrill. Cochrane was hundreds of miles above Earth and headed eastward out and up.
Cochrane," she said professionally. "I'll strap you in this first time. You'll do it later." Cochrane lay down in a contour-chair with an eight-inch mattress of foam rubber. The stewardess adjusted straps. He thought bitter, ironic thoughts. A voice said: "Mr. Cochrane!" He turned his head. There was Babs Deane, his secretary, with her eyes very bright.
It was a deep, booming, numbing roar that came from somewhere outside the rocket's hull. Simultaneously, something thrust Cochrane deep into the foam-cushions of his contour-chair. He felt the cushion piling up on all sides of his body so that it literally surrounded him.
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