I didn’t like that idea.
Besides, half the Earth was in direct sunlight. A thousand correspondents for Life and Time and Newsweek and Associated Press would all be calling in from Europe, Asia, Africa… unless they were all hiding in cellars. Or dead. Or voiceless, because the sun was blanketing everything with static, radio and phone systems and television… television: Oh my God.
I was just barely beginning to be afraid.
All right, start over. The moon had become very much brighter. Moonlight, well, moonlight was reflected sunlight; any idiot knew that. Then… something had happened to the sun.
II
“Hello?”
“Hi. Me,” I said, and then my throat froze solid. Panic! What was I going to tell her?
“I’ve been watching the moon,” she said dreamily. “It’s wonderful. I even tried to use my telescope, but I couldn’t see a thing; it was too bright. It lights up the whole city. The hills are all silver.”
That’s right, she kept a telescope on her balcony. I’d forgotten.
“I haven’t tried to go back to sleep,” she said, “too much light.”
I got my throat working again. “Listen, Leslie love, I started thinking about how I woke you up and how you probably couldn’t get back to sleep, what with all this light. So let’s go out for a midnight snack.”
“Are you out of your mind?”
“No, I’m serious. I mean it. Tonight isn’t a night for sleeping. We may never have a night like this again. To hell with your diet. Let’s celebrate. Hot fudge sundaes, Irish coffee—”
“That’s different. I’ll get dressed.”
“I’ll be right over.”
* * *
Leslie lived on the fourteenth floor of Building C of the Barrington Plaza. I rapped for admission, and waited.