But even this extravagant exhibition did not preclude the temporary use of the Hall to hold hundreds of tables, topped with linens, crystal goblets, fine china and silver, all capturing glints from the many electric chandeliers.
At each place sat one of the many dignitaries who had voyaged hither for the ceremonies, patrician men and women from every nation of the globe, the “movers and shakers” of the new age.
At the head table, raised above the others on a dais, sat President Ponto and First Lady Hélène. Adjacent to the President sat his father and mother. At Hélène’s elbow, Jungle Alli. The rest of the table was occupied by various officeholders of Helenia.
Focused on the table were a dozen telephonoscopic cameras, relaying the doings on the dais to a hundred screens set up throughout the Hall, thus providing a sense of intimacy for all attendees, however remote, with the doings at the Presidential table. Smaller screens at intervals conveyed the entertaining image and sound from a brilliant symphony orchestra.
The banquet commenced sharply at eight, after a rousing champagne toast. Thousands of servitors drew comestibles from the taps scattered throughout the Hall, ferrying steaming, deliciously prepared squab, pork medallions, sausages and other delights to the eager diners. Jollity and bonhomie, fueled by fine wines, reigned throughout the chamber. Although, truth be told, had anyone been in the frame of mind to scrutinize objectively the visages of President and Mr. Ponto, they might have detected a certain sham brittleness to their conviviality, as if the men were masking deeper concerns.
Likewise, the charming face of Hélène showed a certain distracted slackness and preoccupied inwardness.
This suspicious catatonia on the part of one so close to the powerful President of Helenia did not go unremarked by the perceptive Jungle Alli.
“Mrs. Ponto,” said the adventurer gallantly and ingenuously, so low that only the two of them could hear, “your sweet face should be shining at this victorious hour with exuberance and animation. Instead, it is beclouded with melancholy.”
With a visible effort, Hélène responded agreeably. “Please, call me Hélène. ‘Mrs. Ponto’ is my mother-in-law.”
“And you may call me Alice. Well, Hélène, what troubles you? A burden shared is a burden lessened.”
Hélène’s brow furrowed. “It—it is hard to describe. Of late I have been pestered with odd notions. An angry unease with my husband—for no reason at all. And a sense that some imminent salvation is coming from—from the skies. I have no basis for either sensation—and yet they are intensely real to me. Is that not absurd?”
Jungle Alli laid a hand atop one of Hélène’s and captured the younger woman’s gaze with a fervent directness. “Do not ask me how, but I know these symptoms, and I believe I may be able to help you overcome them.”
Hélène smiled broadly and genuinely for the first time that day. “Oh, Alice, if only you could! I would be forever in your debt…”
“We will discuss this more, later this evening. But for now, try to enjoy the occasion. I believe you will be surprised by the announcement that your husband has planned, and which I am privy to.”
The dinner moved naturally through its many happy courses, until at last it reached the speechifying stages. After many lesser orations, the time came for President Ponto himself to speak.
“This hour should be dedicated, by common consent, to my new nation’s recent accomplishment, shared by all mankind, in constructing a new continent wholly from scratch. These virgin lands—dubbed Helenia, after my charming wife”—here President Ponto pivoted to single out the lady so referenced, and Hélène’s immense blushing face filled all the telephonoscope screens—“will serve as a necessary release valve for the population pressures of older lands, encouraging settlers to fresh heights of invention and enterprise. And I do so dedicate this shining hour to all the hard labour and visionary guidance that preceded it.”
Here a rousing cheer from thousands of throats rattled the panes of the Hall.
“But,” continued the President, “ I would be disloyal to the spirit of Helenia if I focused solely on the past. For the future itself is that vast untouched territory that most concerns us, the frontier where we may unfurl untried and brighter banners of conquest and exploration.
“And so I choose this moment to announce a new project, one that will tax our every fibre, and yet reward us commensurately.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I hereby declare our nation’s intentions to construct a bridge to the Moon!”
A stunned silence greeted this unexpected announcement. But as soon as the inevitable majesty of the notion penetrated the consciousnesses of the listeners, they let loose a lusty roar that outdid all earlier cheers.
When the din died away, President Ponto said, “This bridge—a transit tunnel of sorts, actually, such as those which link the continents of Earth under the seas—will open up vast resources and territory that our planet needs to move forward to her inevitable destiny. I know I can count on the support of every one of Helenia’s citizens in this noble quest.”
President Ponto resumed his seat to deafening applause, and the rest of the banquet passed in a furor of celebration, not unmixed with much wheeling and dealing, as various tycoons utilized telephonic service to reach their brokers.
Eventually the occupants of the head table made their official exit, leaving the other revelers to continue the celebrations.
In the private backstage corridors of the Hall, President and Mr. Ponto conferred sotto voce with Jungle Alli.
“Your wild scheme is set in motion,” said the younger man. “I only pray that the Cat Women regard the Earth-Moon Tunnel as harmless economic expansionism natural to our race, and not an assault on their citadel.”
“Oh, I am sure they will welcome it, as diverting our resources. They of course, with their powers of teleportation, have no need of a material connection between our worlds. But we do. And once the bridge to the Moon in place, we will be enabled to attack the nexus of their power. That ruined city beneath the lunar surface.”
The elder Ponto now said, “There remains much to set in motion if this challenging feat of engineering is to be financed. I shall have to get busy right now. Son, I will need your assistance…”
President Ponto wearily signalled his assent to a long night of tedious governmental activity. “Miss Bradley, perhaps you would consent to escort my wife back to her rooms. She has been feeling unwell lately…”
“Of course.”
Soon Jungle Alli was steering Hélène Ponto toward the younger woman’s bedchambers. The wife of the President exhibited a slightly inebriated and confused manner.
Once the two women were inside the intimate Presidential quarters and all the maids were dismissed, Jungle Alli said, “You recall that I suggested I might be able to clear your mind of its recent confusions. Well, the process involves attaining a certain level of somatic and psychical integration between us, so that I might confer some of my innate immunity to such disturbances on you.”
Hélène seemed on the point of swooning, and Jungle Alli had to catch her and lower her to a divan. With the back of one hand to her brow and eyes shuttered, Hélène said, “Anything… anything to restore my vigour and clarity…”
Jungle Alli quickly shucked her bandoliers and gun belt, then began unbuttoning her khaki shirt. “Just lie back, my darling, and the treatment will commence….”
At four that morning, when the Polynesian skies above the fresh-faced continent of Helenia were just beginning to display the first hints of dawn, President Ponto quietly opened the door of his wife’s bedchambers. The dim electrical nightlights therein revealed the intertwined forms of not one but two women beneath the sheets of the large bed.