Richter 10

EPILOGUE

The geography helo vanished, replaced by Moonscape. Geodesic domes, reflecting brilliant sunlight and stretching to the horizon, were connected by skyways and tunnels and catwalks. A central plaza sat just within view; a working King Projection globe of the Moon dominated it.

“And that, children,” said a virtual Lewis Crane as he walked through the fourth grade classroom, “is how Moonbase Charlestown came to be.”

His good arm holding his bad behind his back, he reached the front of the room. The virtual Lewis Crane was a globe projection that held its namesake’s soul within its electrical charges. It wasn’t real, but it was Lewis Crane. And, with pride, he drank in its surroundings, the product of his imagination.

“This … city,” he said, “is yours to create, you know. What will you do with it? I ask only that you use your minds before you make your choices, and that you feel the pain of others as intensely as you feel your own.” The Virtual smiled. “I want to introduce a couple of people you might recognize.”

He reached his good arm out toward the door, and Burt Hill, Dan Newcombe, Sumi Chan, and Lanie King walked in. Crane’s virtual self felt a flush of joy as the children gasped in happiness, then applauded the other minds that Crane had stored in the machine.

Lanie, Dan, and Sumi stood with him in the front of the room. “Believe,” Crane said, moving to embrace the people who’d made his life worthwhile. “Believe in dreams. They never die.”

He looked toward the classroom door, Lanie already staring that way, Hill, Newcombe, and Sumi smiling broadly.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” Crane said. “Come on out and let the kids see you.”

“Yes, please do,” Lanie said.

And, much to the delight of his father and his mother and his other adult friends, little Charlie Crane, eighteen months old, toddled through the doorway, arms outstretched.