They arrived at their seats, and Judy entered the row first, checking the numbers against their tickets. They had good seats—far enough away from the center to be able to see almost all of the dome without craning their necks too much.
“I heard they repaired thousands of binoculars,” Francis said. “For the navy.”
“Did you ever use binoculars?” Lily asked.
Francis was in China during the war too, and sometimes Judy wondered if they had ever been in the same place at the same time. She and Francis had discussed it, of course, but it was hard to determine for sure. She asked him, on one of their early dates, if he would have even given her a second look had he seen her in China. Here in America, there weren’t so many Chinese women her age, but in China, the ratio of men to women was normal. He had given her a rather tender look and said, “Of course. I would have noticed you anywhere.” She blushed at his words, and shortly afterward, he kissed her for the first time.
Francis was explaining to Lily that he did remember binoculars in his unit—he had been an engineer in the army—but he didn’t know if any of them were repaired here in San Francisco. “Wouldn’t that be something if they were?” he mused, as if taken by the idea.
* * *
—
The beginning of the show was signaled by the gentle crescendo of violins as recorded music began to play. The lights shifted, and now black cutouts of San Francisco’s skyline became clear all around the periphery of the dome. Everyone leaned back to gaze at the pale glow above, and the projector became a fantastically alien creature silhouetted against a darkening sky.
Stars began to emerge, one by one. Judy shivered as the dome deepened to black, and the stars became so numerous they created a sparkling, depthless universe above. She felt as if she were sinking back into her seat, falling into the gravity well of the earth. And then, as the stars above her moved, depicting their nightly journey across the cosmos, she felt as if she were moving with them. Her stomach lurched and she had to close her eyes for a moment against the motion, but the allure of the vision was too strong, and she opened them again and marveled at the sensation that gripped her. There was no up; there was no down. She was floating, suspended between earth and sky.
A small white disc appeared. It was only the size of a pencil eraser, and then the size of a quarter, and slowly, bit by bit, its true face emerged.
“Welcome to the moon,” the lecturer said as the audience gasped. “We are using state-of-the-art imagery here. This photograph, which we will be exploring in detail, comes directly from the Lick Observatory. You’ll be seeing parts of the moon that very few men have seen before.”
The moon grew in size; it hung above them in a giant black-and-white orb. Huge circular craters dotted the landscape. There were blinding white patches and deep, dark shadows.
“The moon is a world of extremes,” the lecturer continued in his hushed, deep voice. “In the harsh light of the sun, the temperature can easily rise to two hundred degrees Fahrenheit, but simultaneously, in those darkest areas, it can be as cold as two hundred degrees below zero.”
Judy glanced at Lily while the lecturer spoke. Her niece’s face was illuminated by the bright moon above, which was reflected as a tiny black-and-white sphere in her eyes. Her mouth was open slightly. She looked like someone seeing a new world for the first time.
“The surface of the moon might be covered in dust. But we can’t be certain about it until we send someone there to check. Someday, man will be able to travel to the moon in a rocket ship. Once he has reached the surface of the moon, he’ll be able to drive a golf ball a hundred miles with one stroke because the gravity is so light. He’ll be able to jump a dozen feet into the air if he wants. He will feel light as air.”
Judy reached for her husband’s hand. He laced his fingers in hers as they sat together beneath the projection of the moon. She felt an exhilarating distance from the Earth, and yet a comforting closeness to these people she loved. Francis, with his warm hand in hers; Lily, with her awe-stricken face beside her. I am here, Judy told herself silently. This is San Francisco.
* * *
—
After the show, Judy felt light-headed and a bit wobbly on her feet. She linked her arm with Lily’s as they joined the crowd leaving the museum; everyone seemed a bit wobbly after their trip to the moon and back.
“Do you think that man is right?” Lily asked as they jostled their way outside. “That we can fly to the moon in a rocket ship?”
“It’s a long way off, but yes,” Judy said.
Lily’s face brightened. “How long?”
“Years,” Judy said. “What do you think, Francis?”
“I don’t know. Thirty, forty years? Certainly within your lifetime, Lily.”
Outside the museum, they walked across the wide plaza toward the steps that led down to the street, where taxis waited at the curb. Car engines rumbled to life in the parking lot beyond, their headlights illuminating people walking through the crisp night air.
“Would they really be able to jump so high on the moon?” Lily asked.
“Well, the gravity is much lighter there,” Judy said. “I’m sure I could calculate how high a man could jump.” Judy considered the math and laughed. “Oh, it would be funny to see!”
“They could hop on the moon,” Francis said. “Like a giant bunny rabbit.” He reached the sidewalk and began to hop down it awkwardly, flapping his arms as if he were a seagull.
Judy laughed. Francis was so childlike sometimes; she thought it was his Americanness coming out. “That’s not how it would look!” Judy chided him. “It would be much more graceful.”
“Like what?” he challenged her. “Show me.”
Judy saw several bystanders surreptitiously watching them. “Oh, Francis, I can’t—”