A Moon in June

In the almost dawn, the viridescent butterflies gathered and hovered in a formation ten thousand feet high. They were stacked layer upon layer, a million or more in each tier. Every morning for week, they had flown up and today all had arrived finally, they Turned East

Creating in their wake maelstroms that would roll unchecked across a naked continent as they passed over the shore line, a shadow jumped onto the water, a shadow a thousand miles wide, and raced on the wave tips, like some giant hand from hell.

Mutants Spawned during the last war. A genetic madness. Their wings stretched six feet from tip and were porraceous green, streaked with scarlet,

Like flung blood. Their bodies were a darker, bilious green and as large as a man's. But it wasn't their size or coloring nor the fact that they flew in staggered formations to take advantage of each other's lifting power that stunned those who had ever seen them. No. it was the eyes that triggered a far deeper terror. White, cold-white, ice-white irises on black eyeballs. Intelligent and quick. The eyes knew and understood. The brain could be reptilian, thats how cold the eyes were. Tests on a dead one, for man had never captured one alive, showed a complex brain, as large as mans, but flatter and longer. The creatures' circulatory system was vaguely similar to man's

The butterflies were migrating to a continent thrown up when the earth was twisting and warping and cooling from the heat of creation. A continent that rose under an iceberg in the north and jogged to an abrupt end at the equator. The butterflies would make the flight across the ocean in less than a week, for it was only two thousand miles. There was no island, no reef, no volcanic peak on which to rest and they would use nearly all their strength in the passage. At the end, bits and pieces of wings would trail them like autumn leaves. But most would make it, for they were driven by a memory, an instinct that the land ahead would be their mating grounds. They also knew the land ahead would be their, burial grounds. These butterflies were at the end of their lives.

Five thousand miles away, presgo the scientist pointed at his instruments.

Look. The trade winds are shifting, degenerating and turning. The monsters must be in flight.

Widthe, the leader of his nation of fifteen million people, nervously watched the needles. His voice strained, he asked,

which way are they going

"East," said presgo. "Thank god for that," said widthe. "There's still a chance, then."

The butterflies had migrated every five years for as long as anyone could remember. Anyway, since the war. But they we're increasing geometrically and within the last generation, they had reached such numbers that they stripped entire continents bare when they hatched into huge and hungry caterpillars. The world's economy was ruined. Guns, poisons, fire, bombs all had failed. The creatures were too strong for these ordinary methods. They had the ability to mutate at will.

For seven days, presgos instruments monitored, the flight of the beings, though the men knew exactly where they were going. To the only other place left for them; the only green continent besides this one, on which lived the remnants of mankind.

This is it, then," said presgo, turning. "Are you sure it will work?" asked widthe. "No. way it works mathematically. But there's no way it could have been tested, besides, what else-" "can we do?" finished widthe, "fifteen million people-everyone left in the world-are waiting in the fields where your machines said they should be. The loud-speakers are all tested and working

They're landing now its a 7.4 force on the seismograph. I don't understand why the land dosen't collapse under them.

Stools, chairs, tables, rocks-everything's all set up.

Are the stools in position?

The butterflies would begin a transcontinental mating frenzy that would last for weeks. Their wings exhausted and ruined and their. Minds intent on copulation, they were at their most vulnerable.

I, presgo, proposed this idea twenty-five years ago. But mans ego was sure there was a more technical, a more sophisticated, solution. today, it is the last idea anyone has had. Five years from now, when the offspring of these butterflies are ending their circle, they will come here, to the last land on earth with vegetation.

I presgo, have calculated that if every one in the nation would gather in a certain location and jump of a stool that was four feet, two inches tall at precisely the same time, the tremor would bounce eight thousand miles through the earth and emerge underneath the creatures. That force, plus the weight of the butterflies, should split the crust under them and drop millions, may be all, of the monsters into the bowels of the earth. it is insane, of course, but it is mans last chance

They've begun mating. any time, now.

Widthe flipped a switch and spoke into a microphone. 'This is it people of the earth. Let us pray it works. Please get onto your platforms." He climbed a stepladder. A few minutes later, the sector monitors reported everyone was in place.

presgo counted backward from ten. "three, two, one. jump now!" fifteen million people leaped to the ground. More than a million tons of weight hit the earth at the same moment.

On the other side of the world, a green, writhing mass of winged creatures registered the vibration. they hesitated a moment and turned cold. White eyes to the sky

A great ripping and tearing noise circled the earth. the entire planet shuddered and wobbled like an old man with a stroke. The sound of a world pulling itself apart was like no other sound before and like no other sound would ever be.

The cold, white eyes watched as an enormous land mass flung itself off the face of the planet. A block of earth the size of a continent tell into the clouds.

The cold, white eyes saw fifteen million people staking and then screaming as the land on which they stood turned and rolled into space.

Before the butterflies returned to their lovemaking, one that was a lighter green than the others said, for they could talk in their own way...

Let us call it the moon, for it will circle this earth forever. The first and probably only, moon we shall every have. And if, someday, we evolve into creatures like those, we will have forgotten this moment. Let us mate now and perhaps the moon will be remembered for that.

The end