Lem's hilarious send-up of militarism, espionage, scientists, and psychiatrists goes to unprecedented extremes as Ijon Tichy, unflappable as always, fights for truth and justice in a world gone mad. While relieving himself behind a boulder in the Sea of Serenity - there are no urinals on the moon - Ijon Tichy was callotomized by remote ultrasound, probably from one of those superweapons invented by the invisible war robots. His corpus callosum, that is, was severed, the two hemispheres of his brain separated, which is why now, writing this on the typewriter, he can type only with his right hand. The left has to be tied down; it won't listen to reason; it keeps pulling the page out of the typewriter. But what, you ask, was Tichy doing on the moon in the first place, and in the vicinity of self-evolving, autonomous, intelligent weapons? He was sent on a mission by the Lunar Agency to save the world. He saved the world - but saved it too well, alas. For what he did (it wasn't his fault) he might receive the Nobel Peace Prize, and then again he might be shot for treason.