“You see?” he said.
“Oh, I _see_.”
“Practically we shall be able to tack about in space just as we wish.
Get attracted by this and that.”
“Oh yes. _That’s_ clear enough. Only----”
“Well?”
“I don’t quite see what we shall do it for! It’s really only jumping
off the world and back again.”
“Surely! For example, one might go to the moon.”
“And when one got there! What would you find?”
“We should see--Oh! consider the new knowledge.”
“Is there air there?”
“There may be.”
“It’s a fine idea,” I said, “but it strikes me as a large order all the
same. The moon! I’d much rather try some smaller things first.”
“They’re out of the question, because of the air difficulty.”
“Why not apply that idea of spring blinds--Cavorite blinds in strong
steel cases--to lifting weights?”
“It wouldn’t work,” he insisted. “After all, to go into outer space is
not so much worse, if at all, than a polar expedition. Men go on polar
expeditions.”
“Not business men. And besides, they get paid for polar expeditions.
And if anything goes wrong there are relief parties. But this--it’s
just firing ourselves off the world for nothing.”
“Call it prospecting.”
“You’ll have to call it that.... One might make a book of it perhaps,”
I said.
“I have no doubt there will be minerals,” said Cavor.
“For example?”
“Oh! sulphur, ores, gold perhaps, possibly new elements.”
“Cost of carriage,” I said. “You know you’re _not_ a practical man. The
moon’s a quarter of a million miles away.”
“It seems to me it wouldn’t cost much to cart any weight anywhere if
you packed it in a Cavorite case.”