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Updated: June 18, 2025
"You are right, sir," replied Michel Ardan; "the discussion has become irregular. We will return to the moon." "Sir," said the unknown, "you pretend that our satellite is inhabited. Very good, but if Selenites do exist, that race of beings assuredly must live without breathing, for I warn you for your own sake there is not the smallest particle of air on the surface of the moon."
Heaven alone knew what tremendous engines of warfare guns, bombs, terrestrial torpedoes this unknown world below our feet, this vaster world of which we had only pricked the outer cuticle, might not presently send up to our destruction. It became clear the only thing to do was to charge! It became clearer as the legs of a number of fresh Selenites appeared running down the cavern towards us.
The first was the gift of true lyric, not seldom indeed marred by the lack of polish above noticed, but real, true, and constant, from the "Fata Morgana" and "Buried Heart" of The Wanderer to the "Experientia Docet" and "Selenites" of Marah, more than thirty years later. The other was a much more individual power, and by some might be ranked higher.
I was standing nearest to the bridge, and as I did this two of the Selenites laid hold of me, and pulled me gently towards it. I shook my head violently. "No go," I said, "no use. You don't understand." Another Selenite added his compulsion. I was forced to step forward. "I've got an idea," said Cavor; but I knew his ideas. "Look here!" I exclaimed to the Selenites. "Steady on!
He then told me no doubt in compliment also, the relative magnitude and diameter of earth and moon, and the perpetual wonder and speculation with which the Selenites had regarded our planet. I meditated with downcast eyes, and decided to reply that men too had wondered what might lie in the moon, and had judged it dead, little recking of such magnificence as I had seen that day.
I am Barbicane's likeness, and Barbicane is Nicholl's. Beyond us, around us, human nature is at an end, and we are the only population of this microcosm until we become pure Selenites." "In about eighty-eight hours," replied the captain. "Which means to say?" asked Michel Ardan. "That it is half-past eight," replied Nicholl.
By the absence of refraction in the rays of the planets occulted by her we conclude that she is absolutely devoid of an atmosphere. The absence of air entails the absence of water. It became, therefore, manifest that the Selenites, to support life under such conditions, must possess a special organization of their own, must differ remarkably from the inhabitants of the earth.
Cavor's despatches show him to be curiously regardless of detail for a scientific man, but we gather that this light was due to the streams and cascades of water "no doubt containing some phosphorescent organism" that flowed ever more abundantly downward towards the Central Sea. And as he descended, he says, "The Selenites also became luminous."
"I haven't tied you," he answered. "It's the Selenites." The Selenites! My mind hung on that for a space. Then my memories came back to me: the snowy desolation, the thawing of the air, the growth of the plants, our strange hopping and crawling among the rocks and vegetation of the crater.
"Then, dear boy, since they have gone ahead as far as we and even farther, why have not those great Selenites tried to start a communication with the Earth? Why have they not fired a projectile from the regions lunar to the regions terrestrial?" "Who says they have not done so?" asked Barbican, coolly.
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