FIRST MAN
By CLYDE BROWN
Illustrated by WOOD
[Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science FictionApril 1958. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that theU.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
To keep the record straight: Orville Close was first man on the Moon.Harold Ferguson was second. They never talk about it.
It started on that October morning when the piece came out in theParkville News. Harold grumbled that they'd gotten the story allwrong, calling his ship a rocket ship, and treating him like a flagpolesitter or a man going over Niagara Falls in a barrel. His wife tooktheir sad, thin little girl and went to live with her brother. The citypolice blocked off Elm Street, letting no one through except theresidents. The neighbors were getting up a petition. But Orville refusedto become excited.
What was going to happen?
Why, nothing.
Harold would probably crack up completely, but this evening that thingwould still be standing there, solid as the Washington Monument.
Nevertheless, Orville's wife Polly was going to her sister's, acrosstown. She wasn't going to stay there and be blown up! While she wasgetting ready, Orville picked up a package by the sink and carried itoutside to the alley and dropped it in the garbage can. He wore hisdouble-breasted fall suit. He strolled to the boundary fence and leanedagainst a post.
A reporter was taking angle shots of the spaceship. Flashbulbs werescattered over Harold's garden.
It really does catch the eye, Orville thought. Smarten the ship up alittle, put some stripes running down from the nose, a few pieces ofchrome around over the body....
Poor old Harold came off his back porch carrying a thermos jug and sixloaves of bread.
"Morning, Harold," said Orville.
"Oh—morning, Orville." Harold flinched. Another reporter had come outof the shed and taken their picture.
"What's your name, mister?" the reporter asked Orville.
"I'd rather you left me out of this," Orville said.
A loaf of bread had broken open and slices were falling out. Harold putdown the thermos jug and picked up the slices and stuffed them back intothe wrapper. The first reporter came over.
"It's got Vitamin D." Harold grinned wretchedly. "Costs two cents more aloaf, but I thought, what the heck—"
"How about a shot of you and the missus saying good-by?" the firstreporter said.
"Why—she left me," Harold blurted. He tried to get away, but thereporters hemmed him in.
"Was she scared?" the second reporter asked.
"Look, boys!" Orville put his hands on the top rail of the fence andclimbed across. He was getting his shoes wet in the weeds in Harold'sgarden, but he didn't care. "The man has work to do. Can't you leave himalone?"
He picked up the jug and took Harold by the elbow and led him into theshed.
There, resting on some concrete blocks on the dirt floor, was the baseof the ship. In the semi-darkness, it looked harmless enough: like atank, six or eight feet across, reaching up through a jagged hole in theroof.
"Harold, you could make a good thing out of this," Orville said. "Allthis pu