With thanks to Tim McCleerey, the only person I know who ALWAYS reads my stories.

It is day 1,788 on Luna, and YES, I am here, sitting at my favorite table at the FastFood...

I know you think I am ALWAYS here, but really I only come when I've been to an Ambassadorial shindig (where there is NEVER anything good to eat). Or the occasional time when our ambassadorial food service delivers the Polaran's food instead of ours (they are vegans...) Or when I get the munchies for something greasy and salty at 11pm. Or... OK... yes... I AM at the FastFood a lot...

But not ALWAYS...

Today I am here not for the chicken nuggets (although I am eating some) but to meet with Lt. Forbes of the Luna City Administrative Law Enforcement.

I think he's here a lot, too. He likes the burgers. (I think burgers are fine if you eliminate the lettuce, tomato, onion, pickles, ketchup, mustard, and buns...)

"I hear the new Ambassador from Uralia has arrived," he observes.

"Yes, Ambassador Clmntr is very nice. I think we'll get along well."

"Clementour," he pronounces. "That's nice. Almost like Clementine."

I think to myself: "Hardly!" but say nothing.

"So, another female?"

"Yes, she, like me, is a widow. We neither of us are looking for a mate." My species mate for life.

"Good thing - we don't want any more murders! But she is from the other continent on Uralia?"

"You have a good memory," I observe.

"I need it, in my profession."

"Yes she's from Ura."

"Ura? Not Uralia?"

"Her continent was called "Ura." Mine was "Lia." There were only two continents, so: Ura-Lia. Uralia."

"Well, that's efficient," he approves.

A couple of kids are staring at us. Well, OK, they are staring at ME. You see, my species look a lot like dinosaurs, specifically Utahraptors. And Lunar kids LOVE dinosaurs. I smile kindly at them, being careful to keep my teeth hidden (we have a LOT of teeth). And I slip my hands (with the claws) under some burger wrappings. These are young children, and while they may love dinosaurs, raptors can cause nightmares.

Finally they scamper off to rejoin their parents, and I can rejoin my chicken nuggets.

Lt. Forbes is changing the subject. "So, Ambassador, what do you know about the Setow?"

I nearly choke. The Setow? The Setow! Surely Earth must have been visited by the Setow thousands of years ago. They probably are immortalized in Earth legends and myths. But maybe they are just discovering the refugees on Luna?

What to say about a species we (and by "we" I mean the entire universe) know NOTHING about?

"Well, Lieutenant, the Setow are non-corporeal. They are pure thought. We don't know where they are from... they might not be from this galaxy... they might not be from a planet or galaxy at all... They seem to be doing a survey of sapient life forms - maybe sort of a hobby. When they come to a planet, they just sort of appear simultaneously in everybody's minds at some point. Then they leave. They appeared on Uralia millennia ago, before my time, and, while they feature in Uralian folk legends, I don't actually know more about them than that."

"Hmm..." he says, "so, I guess you wouldn't know if they could be dangerous..."

"I haven't HEARD that they ever are, but, you really need to talk to Yaeyeia, the Oeyian Ambassador. She has had personal interaction with the Setow."

"She's the plant, right? I will make arrangements to do that," he nods. "Anyway, if you hear anything about them, please let me know."

This short interaction is (apparently) the reason he has asked to meet me at the FastFood. The Luna City Administrative Law Enforcement must use all its resources.

I glance at my com. I make a face. Of course, Lt. Forbes, being human, might not KNOW I am making a face. "Sorry, I have to go to an Ambassadorial event." I grit my (many) teeth.

"Ah, yes, the Concert," he agrees.

"Yes, the Concert," I agree, without enthusiasm and leave.

***

It is my hypothesis that, of all cultural traits, each species' music is the most personal, and other species' music the least comprehensible. My species cannot hear music without moving. Maybe singing or humming along. Not so among the humans. Although "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" at Lunar baseball games comes close to a Uralian response to music.

At the Lunar concert at the plush Smedley Center, the human Ambassadors from 19 of the other Lunar city-states sit rigidly in (uncomfortable) chairs, perfectly still, not nodding or tapping a foot (certainly not singing or humming) until the music ends. Then they clap their hands together (but not loudly) for a bit until the music starts again.

And, the music! Aagh! Screechings and groanings and thumpings totally meaningless to the non-human listeners. I have actually trained myself to hear what humans call "the beat." To amuse myself, I count the beat throughout the piece. At the last concert, during one piece I counted 7,894 "beats." My brain nearly exploded.

The human Ambassadors are seated at the front of the audience. We alien Ambassadors are hiding uncomfortably in the last two rows. I'm sitting with Clmntr. As usual, we have turned the chairs backwards and are perched on the seats with our tails hanging down where human legs would normally go. We cling to the back of the chairs resting our chins on the top. Yaeyeia has displaced a chair for her wheeled pot, and the Xx in their wheeled petri dish are positioned next to her. Across the aisle are the five crocodilian Gilgot Ambassadors, also using the backward-chair-sitting technique, although it is not as comfortable for them. They prefer flat, slanted surfaces. In front of them in the next-to-last row are the two Polaran Ambassadors in their pressure suits (without them, they would expand like balloons in the Earth-normal air pressure of Luna.) Next to them is the Delitrian Ambassador, also in a protective suit, but in his case because the air chemistry on Luna is corrosive to them. Without his suit, the Delitrian would melt.

He might not notice melting if it happened right now... he is fast asleep. His helmet screens any snoring he might be doing, assuming Delitrians snore. It also keeps his head upright, assuming Delitrians would otherwise sleep with their chins resting on their chests.

As usual, the Ratihinaconaxemuwezo are missing.

Finally (finally!) the concert is over. We know this because the front rows clap longer and eventually stand up. We also clap and stand to show appreciation that it is finally OVER.

And then it is time to investigate the food offerings at this event. As usual, finger foods predominate - human fingers, that is. Veggies (Uralians, like Lunar cats, are obligate carnivores - vegetables won't actually kill us, but won't do us any good either.) Cookies and fudge (Uralians, again like cats, can't taste sweet, but we enjoy the fats in these items.) Bits of cheese (fat, yes, but Uralians are lactose intolerant!) A red liquid in a large bowl (again, allegedly sweet, but this time without redeeming fats - you can drink it if you are desperately thirsty.)

See why this spread leads to a visit to the FastFood?

Uralians, apex predators, have good ears. In the repressed din of talking Ambassadors and Luna City Administrative staff, I hear the New Kyiv Ambassador and the New Nuuk Ambassador chatting.

The cities of Luna are almost universally named after the city or university the refugees from Earth came from. Luna City would have been New New York, so since that sounded unwieldy, those refugees called their settlement Luna City in honor of a 20th century science fiction author's lunar capital city. There are 23 cities, administered as city-states. 19 are connected by tunnels to avoid the dangers of transport on the surface of Luna or in the "air" (non-air) above it. The Ambassadors from the 19 "tunnel-connected" cities are here tonight. The remaining four, who do not generally trust the other 19, prefer to remain isolated.

I hear the word "Setow" clearly from the New Kyiv Ambassador. I hurriedly motion Yaeyeia to me.

"Can you roll over and listen in to what the New Kyiv and New Nuuk Ambassadors are saying?"

She rolls over agreeably. She loves being a spy.

But, the Ambassadors know that on Luna, a plant is not just part of the scenery even at such a classy site as the Smedley Center. They know a plant could be listening. They lean together and speak more softly.

Definitely I want to hear that conversation!

The Xx roll in to save the day. They retract their flag (since their dish is only at about ankle height, they have a retractable flag usually expanded to eye-level to prevent people from tripping over them) and roll over to the Ambassadors' table. Without their flag, the Ambassadors can't see the Xx rolling under their table, hiding under the cloth.

So, Lt. Forbes is right! Something is definitely going on related to the Setow! I eat a piece of cheese in my excitement. I will pay for it later.

***

It is the next day (day 1,789 to be exact). Guess where we are! Yes, Lt. Forbes is meeting with Yaeyeia, the Xx, and me at (surprise!) my favorite table at the FastFood. Yaeyeia and the Xx have never been there before. (The FastFood doesn't sell plant food or whatever it is the Xx eat.)

Yaeyeia is speaking. "The Setow came to Oeyiah several thousand years ago. They offered their assistance in contacting other species, should we ever want to. I think that is what they are interested in: creating contacts between sapient species."

Lt. Forbes looks skeptical. "And this is what is remembered in your folk legends?" he asks.

Yaeyeia wiggles a bit. Maybe uncomfortably? "No, I was there. I remember it. When I wanted to leave Oeyiah, go exploring, meet other species, I thought of them, and they came."

"You remember it?" Lt Forbes looks even more skeptical. "You don't look several-thousand-years-old."

Another wiggle. "We usually procreate clonally. I am a clonal "descendant" of the original plant that witnessed the Setow, with all the memories that plant had. Has. I'm a piece of the same plant."

Lt. Forbes still seems suspicious. "Clonal propagation on Luna requires planting cuttings from the original plant. Who does the cuttings? Don't you need an opposable thumb for that?"

An even stronger wiggle. "On Oeyiah, we have a species, the faran, sentient, but not sapient, that look very much like humans. Some of them, the smartest ones, can be trained to do the propagation. They have opposable thumbs."

Lt. Forbes is silent over that.

Then, "Sentient, not sapient?"

I venture in. "Sentient, like our Embassy's pet cat. She has feelings, a strong sense of self, a purpose for her being, can solve problems she wants to solve, and learn a lot of things. But I can't have a discussion with her about the finer points of differential calculus."

He nods, slowly.

I continue, "Even if she sat in on all the prerequisite courses, she still wouldn't be able to understand it. While a human child, kidnapped from 10,000 years ago and brought to this time WOULD be able to learn calculus, given the proper training."

"And a mathematical mind," he specifies. "But, no, I see what you mean. My dog figured out how to open our front door using his paws. Now we have to lock the door all the time. He's smart, but I wouldn't expect him to ever train to be a surgeon." He looks at the three of us and murmurs, "I used to think the distinction was obvious..."

Yaeyeia adds, "And sapients come up with ways to communicate with each other. They try to communicate with sentients, but with mixed success. You need both species working on it to make the communication successful."

He nods. "OK, so you wanted to communicate with the Setow, and they communicated. They came back."

Yaeyeia clarifies, "It's more like they were always there, but dormant, or maybe just not communicating. Anyway, I knew I needed sapients with an opposable thumb," she pauses, possibly to let Lt. Forbes squirm a bit, "to build things to get me to the other sapient species. The Setow made the connections for me. They arranged for my mobile wheeled pot and my communication system. Now many Oeyians use these technologies to travel to other worlds."

"Why Luna?"

"Apparently the Setow thought it was a good fit. They arranged for me to be the first Oeyian Ambassador, initially to Ratihinaconaxemuwezo, and after a few years they suggested I be replaced there and be reassigned to Luna."

Lt. Forbes shakes his head. "I had no idea how complicated it could be."

We are silent. My own case is quite different but equally complicated. And the Xx - well, no one knows how the Xx do ANYTHING. They have no opposable thumbs and apparently no faran, yet they make everything they need or want and transport themselves in their own ships all over the galaxy. They are the deepest mystery to everyone they meet.

Lt. Forbes is back to the main topic. "So, do you have any feeling that the Setow could be dangerous, violent?"

"Not in my interactions with them. They really seem to want to get species together. Safely. The connections they made for me definitely did not put me or my planet at risk. I'm sure many species available for the Setow to choose for their tasks might take advantage of the situation, but I think they are careful to avoid those possibilites."

"Hmm." He thinks awhile. "And you say the Setow were mentioned at the concert?" He looks at me.

"I heard the Ambassador from New Kyiv mention them to the Ambassador from New Nuuk. Yaeyeia tried to overhear what they were saying, but they got very confidential. The Xx heard them, though."

"Ah, the Xx," says Lt. Forbes. "And what did you hear?"

The Xx typically look dry and bumpy and an ochre color, but when they speak, an area smooths out and cells darken to brown to form words. "THAT SHOULD TAKE CARE OF PETROGRAD" was spelled out.

"Petrograd?" I ask.

Lt. Forbes sighs. He leans his elbows on the table. "I think you all know the Lunars were fugitives from our original planet Earth."

We nod. Or at least I nod. I assume Yaeyeia and the Xx were doing their version of a nod.

"Most of the refugees blamed Russia for having to flee. Petrograd was, well, probably still is in Russia. Although the people in New Petrograd were also refugees also fleeing Russia, the rest of the Lunars blamed them by association. Many are still suspicious of them."

"Is that why New Petrograd is so far from all the other settlements?" Yaeyeia asks.

He nods. "Exactly. While still on the "outside" of Luna, and invisible to Earth, New Petrograd is the city nearest the Lunar north pole. The other settlements are generally scattered near the Lunar equator."

"So, the majority of the Lunar cities' population are suspicious of New Petrograd. Maybe hostile?" I enquire.

He rests his forehead in his hands. "Lately, there is a movement called the Legion, a very sizable group of people, who are blaming Russia, and as its representative on Luna, New Petrograd, of everything bad that has happened to the human species since the apple in the Garden of Eden."

I don't recognize that reference, but I assume it was some agricultural disaster that had happened on Earth a long time ago.

"The Legion could easily be trying to attack New Petrograd. Or sabotage their air or water systems. Poison the place somehow. Make it uninhabitable. Kill all the citizens."

"But would Ambassadors be part of this Legion?" I ask.

"Human Ambassadors might easily be part of the Legion," he responds. "They are human, after all, and subject to all of our prejudices. New Kyiv has special historical reasons to blame Russia."

"That's the reason for Ambassadors - to get to know and hopefully like, or maybe just respect, other Ambassadors and the people they represent," I say.

"But, of course, New Petrograd doesn't have an Ambassador. They are completely cut off from the other cities," Yaeyeia points out.

At this point I lean my elbows on the table, too. And rest my face in my hands. "Damn."

"Damn," agrees Yaeyeia.

It is interesting how we pick up on the local customs of our Ambassadorial postings.

***

I am back in my quarters at the Embassy wondering if I should blight the sleep of my fellow Ambassador by sharing with her the contents of our meeting. My initial decision was that it was all too speculative at this point. Still, if bombs start raining down, my colleague might feel I had not trusted her with vital information.

On the assumption that bombs are not imminent, I decide to wait to see if any further evidence surfaces. Lt. Forbes is leaving for New Petrograd tomorrow morning at 6am to investigate the situation. A personal visit is necessary because just as Petrograd is not connected by tunnels to the other cities, it is not part of the Lunar communications grid either.

I think you can be too isolated. But I am from a social species... although I think Lunars are pretty social, too.

I settle onto my sleep perch and my mind begins to wander. I think of Yaeyeia needing the Setow to connect her to the things she needed to make the contacts she wanted to make, contacts presumably the Setow also wanted made. How she just wanted them and >poof< the Setow were there. Of course, she had known them in the past... they had that connection.

But what about the beings who made her wheeled pot and her communications equipment and software... not to mention providing her transport to Luna? How did the Setow get in touch with those beings? Were they also just >poof< there, or were those beings also seeking a connection, if only a market for their skills, products, and services?

I am just concluding that the Setow are actually the best communications grid ever when

>poof<

There's something in my mind...

No, someONE in my mind...

The Setow? A Setow?

NEW PETROGRAD IS TRYING TO TUNNEL OUT TO CONNECT TO THE OTHER CITIES...

THERE ARE DANGEROUS LEVELS OF PERCHLORATE IN THE TUNNEL...

THE TUNNEL PROJECT IS AT A STALEMATE...

"But, hold it," I say, "SafeGuard can be used to keep perchlorate from leaching into the tunnels just as it is used to keep air and water from escaping out of the cities."

Dead silence.

OK, so I am apparently one of the beings the Setow is contacting to provide skills, products, and services to someone (New Petrograd) who is trying to make contact with other sapient beings (us).

Perchlorate is very dangerous. It is common on Mars but rare on Luna. The technology for dealing with it is not generally known.

Just to me...

Apparently the Ambassadors from New Kyiv and New Nuuk know about the tunnel and its dilemma.

Apparently they also have a cultural memory of the Setow which the New Yorkers of Luna City do not have.

And they are contacting the Setow to TAKE CARE OF (New) PETROGRAD.

That means...

No one is going to bomb anybody!

But Lt. Forbes is going to get up at 6am to risk the dangers of transport on the surface of Luna or the "air" (non-air) above it to save New Petrograd (which doesn't need saving.)

I grab my com.

A sleepy female voice mumbles, "Hello?"

"Mrs. Forbes?"

"Dr. Forbes," she clarifies with a yawn.

"I need to speak to Lt. Forbes."

"Lt. Forbes is scheduled for a 6am flight and needs his sleep," she asserts.

"Wait! No! He doesn't need to go anywhere! I need to talk to him!"

A pause.

"OK. Here he is," reluctantly.

I hear murmuring in the background. It sounds sleepy but irate.

"Hello?" growls a voice about an octave lower than the one I am used to.

"Lieutenant! You don't need to go to New Petrograd! I need to go to New Petrograd! They are trying to build tunnels out to connect to the other cities, but they've run into a perchlorate deposit. SafeGuard can solve the problem, and then they can finish the tunnels and meet the other Ambassadors and make everyone love them and the Legion will die!"

There is silence for a full five seconds (which is a VERY long time on a com.)

"Lieutenant, are you there?"

"No 6am flight to New Petrograd?"

"No 6am flight to New Petrograd."

"I'll see you tomorrow at our usual spot. 9am."

"9am it is. Good night, Lieutenant."

"G'nuh..."

***

So the New Petrograd tunneling project carefully removed the perchlorate from the tunnels (and sealed the debris on the surface in a SafeGuard-sealed unit) and then sealed the entire tunnels' lengths with SafeGuard. On my recommendation (to honor being personally contacted by the Setow) we were glad to provide Earth-chemistry air to fill the (very long) tunnels (one going, one coming) to their destination: the nearest (tunnel-connected) city - New LA.

On my-day-on-Luna 1,926, New Petrograd honors us with a trip on the first tunnel transport to their city. Lt. Forbes and his wife Linda, his two kids, Yaeyeia, the Xx, Clmntr, and I take the (very VERY) long trip through the existing tunnels to New LA and then through the new tunnel in luxury (not something we Uralians are used to...) The Ambassadors from New Kiyiv and New Nuuk and their families also come.

We exit the tunnel and entered a city with architecture totally unlike that of Luna City. Dr. Forbes tells me it is "more European."

It also has a climate totally unlike Luna City. We always joke that there is no point talking about the weather in Luna: during the day it is 71°F (22°C). At night it is 62°F (17°C). Every other Tuesday evening from 7:30 to 7:45pm it rains. That washes everything off nicely.

Apparently, Petrograd on Earth is a cool, maybe you even say a cold place. New Petrograd keeps their temperature at 25°F (-4°C) during the day and 15°F (-9°C) at night. They have fluffy frozen precipitation piled around (called "snow") and a frozen pond in their central park.

Uralia is tropical. I can't get into the hotel fast enough. Yaeyeia beats me in (but she has wheels.)

The Forbes family is thrilled. They purchase woolies in the nearest clothing store and embrace the cold. From my (warm) hotel window, I see them scraping up snow and throwing it at each other. They make three large spheres of snow and pile them on top of each other (at dinner they explain they were making a snowman.) Then, I see them sliding across the frozen lake with special shoes on their feet (they tell me the activity is called "skating".)

Apparently the New Petrograd-ites are expecting tourists to fill their coffers and bolster their public image. They are even planning to build a mountain with snow on it for another dangerous "fun" activity: skiing.

Surprisingly, my colleague is also oblivious to the climate. Clmntr rips the blanket off her hotel bed and wraps herself in it like a cape while running around the city doing an activity called "bird watching."

Since I've read that the Utahraptors (which we resemble) on Earth were possibly ancient ancestors of Earth birds, I think it is fun to consider the birds might think they are being watched by an ancient ancestor.

Clmntr asserts the birds in New Petrograd are totally different from those in Luna City. Makes sense... the refugees would have brought birds from their homes, and unless the birds migrate through the tunnels, they would remain an isolated population. Dr. Forbes calls this allopatric speciation. Sounds good to me.

Yaeyeia and I have lots of our favorite books on our coms, so we are content staying in our (warm) rooms and reading.

They have concerts in the city. We avoid them.

I do not know what the Xx are doing (mysterious, as always!)

The hotel restaurant actually has meat on the menu, so I am not missing the FastFood.

No, I don't know what the Xx are eating.

Or what Yaeyeia is eating either, for that matter.

So, we missed a war and found a 365-day-a-year winter resort.

If that is a good idea for Luna, I have another great idea: a tropical resort!

Maybe I can get the Setow to help me make those "connections"!