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upright seat. Curious, she fished into her backpack for a preserved bush berry. She held it out, then
dropped it and counted the seconds in her mind as it fell. About a sixth of earth's gravity, she said to
the others, who had been watching.
"That's the same as the moon!"
"Doesn't mean it is the moon."
Lyda let the others argue; she simply waited to see what would happen next. It came quickly, with the
entrance irising open. It was butted into a hallway lightly padded with a gray colored foamy substance
which made walking easier in the light gravity. Those who didn't care for the bouncing motion could use
padded stanchions along the walls.
This is all very curious, Lyda thought; for a change, the aliens seem to be going out of their way to care
for us rather than see us hurt. Two others were in front of her; the rest behind. Lyda followed impatiently.
She wanted to get the waiting over with and find out what was in store for them. The bouncing walk
along the hallway continued for what she judged to be about a quarter mile. Before long, she and most of
the others were using the kangaroo hop", pioneered by the Apollo astronauts long ago.
The hall opened into a great two-storied lobby like a vintage, five star hotel, only bigger. The lobby was
filled with humans by the score but none were stopping to stare; they were all moving. Lyda found out
why a second later when a gentle but irresistible force surrounded her and propelled her across part of
the lobby.
"Lyda!"
She recognized the voice. Leo! She frantically looked around and spotted him, but he was no more able
to stop than anyone else. She was taken on across a span of the lobby floor and into an open entrance.
Others in front of her were being forced into it and disappeared upward, legs flapping uselessly as they
flew out of sight.
Here's where the bad stuff starts, Lyda thought, but she was wrong. As soon as she was inside, she took
wingless flight into the space above. The trip was over with so quickly, she hardly had time to feel the
weightlessness. She was stopped by the same gentle force, then propelled down another hallway. This
one was interrupted at irregular intervals by what looked to be arched entrances with closed doors. She
passed several, then was turned into one. She braced herself for an impact, but then passed harmlessly
through the opaque entrance as if no barrier was present.
The force stayed with her long enough to get her to the middle of a room, which resembled a sitting
room in a luxurious, very expensive hotel suite. It deposited her beside a very comfortable looking chair.
Attached to one arm was a large upright screen. It blinked invitingly, as if beckoning her to sit down. She
shrugged and did so. The screen swung around in front of her and settled at comfortable eye level. She
looked into it and found herself staring into an endless black depth. It seemed to widen and deepen and
move forward, drawing her into its embrace as easily and gently as a bride being folded into her
husband's arms on her wedding night.
* * * *
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Lyda never knew how long she was out. It could have been seconds or days for all the sense of time
passing she experienced. What was important was the knowledge imparted into her mind while she was
in the seat.
Lyda learned she was indeed on the moon, somewhere on the face turned away from earth, in an
underground cavern designed especially for human habitation. She was one of perhaps a thousand
persons there, the only survivors from tens of millions captured by the aliens and put through trials that
would have shaken the courage of David and the patience of Job. It was a winnowing process, as Lyda
and others had suspected but never knew the reason why or for what. Now, she did.
The aliens were an elderly species which had evolved into a magnificent star-spanning civilization. They
had spread throughout the galaxy over millions of years. Now they were intent on much greater
accomplishments in other parts of the universe, perhaps even in different dimensions. There was no way
to impart this knowledge to humans; it would have been like showing a set of logarithm tables to an
unlettered savage. Lyda understood that they were leaving, but anything else about their future purpose
was completely unfathomable to the human mind, even such improved minds as the survivors possessed.
This galaxy was to be left for humans, the species they had picked as one with the most potential for
growth. The winnowing of millions of individuals down to the ones here was simply their way of selecting
the best of the best the most courageous, the most cunning, intelligent, compassionate, strong-minded
and thoughtful humans possible and imbuing them with ever better powers of mind and body as they
survived each trial. Lyda could look back now and see the purpose of each situation they had been
thrown into; to suffer, endure, care for or dominate their fellows, and live, if they could. Now she even
knew why so many had been killed outright. The aliens had chosen a random cross section of humanity
and disposed of the first ones, those who had little potential for growth, as casually as a rancher culling a
herd of cattle. The rest were sent to the same kind of harsh environments Lyda had seen. Once the
survivors were transported from there, the aliens departed earth, but only to a series of giant orbiting
globes where they stayed, but never responded to repeated queries from earth authorities in any fashion
whatsoever.
The changes the ultimate survivors had undergone were permanent, imbued in their genes, and capable
of being passed on to their offspring and to other humans as well. The new genes were all dominant,
and encoded within the nonsense portion of their genomes. Actual evidence of just how superior they
were now would be discernible only by the most minute scrutiny of the most comprehensive autopsy by
the best pathologists in the world. Should they ever die through accidents, a possible but not likely fate,
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