On US Highway 395, which cuts straight through the little town of Gardnerville, Nevada, Dennis Hope sells undeveloped land for the bargain price of US$19.99 a 0.4 hectare. There are spacious lots near grand locales: The Sea of Tranquility. The Sea of Serenity.

　　Not a neighbor in sight, all the way to the horizon.

　　Granted, there is no air and no water. The daytime high: 107 degrees Celsius. The nighttime low: 154 below zero C.

　　Behold the moon, Hope's real estate boon. Millions have already purchased prime parcels. They have nicely framed certificates to prove it.

　　The moon seller is a former actor, ventriloquist, purveyor of mobile homes and one-time deli counter worker. By his estimate, he sampled 96 occupations before opening his company, Lunar Embassy.

　　It is the biggest success of his many careers.

　　By lightning turns, he is blunt, verbose, defensive and testy. When he first started doing this 23 years ago, his tongue was firmly planted in his cheek. Now, he says, he truly believes the moon will soon be colonized by Earthlings.

　　The smart ones, he says, will arrive clutching deeds issued by his company.

　　"I believe with every particle of my being that I'm selling property that belongs to me," he says. Lunar Embassy, licensed by the state of Nevada, boasts 2.5 million property owners in 80 countries. More than 1,300 corporations have purchased plots, including Safeway supermarkets in Great Britain, which resold 20,000 lots to grocery shoppers.

　　"I don't consider myself to be a scam artist," Hope says. "I don't consider myself to be anything other than a businessperson that has found an opportunity."

　　"I'm no different than any other business person in the world," he says. "The only difference is the product that I sell doesn't exist here."

　　That's a rather large difference.

　　"I don't see it as a huge difference," he says, his voice turning to iron. And therein lies his sales pitch.

　　Recently, Hope began selling pieces of Mars and of a moon orbiting Jupiter, and coming soon: lots on Mercury.

　　He believes he has the right to sell celestial properties because of the 1967 United Nations Outer Space Treaty.

　　There is such a thing, as well as an entire division of the United Nations, based in Vienna, called the Office for Outer Space Affairs. It is home to the Committee on the Peaceful Uses of Outer Space.

　　The treaty, drafted while the United States and the Soviet Union raced each other to the moon, decreed outer space the "province of all mankind." It is on Article II that Hope hangs his space helmet. Moons and planets, the paragraph says, are "not subject to national appropriation."

　　Meaning - to Hope anyway - that individual appropriation is fair game.

　　UN legal officers say Hope's claim is without merit.

　　But in the state of Nevada, selling land you cannot walk, drive, fly or boat to is perfectly legal.

　　"Some people in Nevada might argue that our jurisdiction extends to the moon, but we don't really think that," said Tom Sargent, spokesman for the state attorney general.

　　As long as the company pays its yearly US$100 fee and no one complains, Lunar Embassy is licensed in good standing. So far, no complaints.

　　(The Associated Press)