_Everyone was thoughtful, considerate, kind
and very happy. But where was the right of
dignity or individuality? It was like being
dropped into the middle of a nightmare. The
kind that finds you running naked in a crowd._
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, October 1956.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The Captain told Kane to take his cushion pills, that they were
contacting the pits at La Guardia within half an hour.
"I still can't figure you," the Captain said. "Up there, just you and
your wife for sixteen years. That's a hell of a long time."
Kane smiled. He had been almost completely out of touch with the world
for sixteen years, and it surprised him a little that anyone thought it
remarkable in any way. Particularly the Captain who spent most of his
time, too, alone.
But the Captain was genuinely perturbed about it. The authorities had
abandoned the space-station project. Abandoned the Martian project.
They had taken away the other three ships from the Moon-run, and there
was no explanation for it at all.
The rest of the Captain's crew, except an old atomics man, had drifted
away and never come back, and the Captain had been unable to find out
anything whatsoever about what had happened to them. He had never heard
from them again. They had never been replaced.
But the Captain couldn't seem to define what it was he was warning Kane
to be wary of down there.
"I haven't left my ship for years, Professor Kane, and that's the
truth. I take on supplies and see to the ore getting into the holds but
when those machines up there that do the digging and loading wear out,
they won't be replaced. Just no interest in space any more. I can tell.
"I stay on the ship, with my wife, see. And the few guys down there
around the field at La Guardia I have to rub up against--why, sir, they
treat me as if I had some kind of contagious disease!
"But they need this ore I'm bringing back here now, so they leave me
alone."
"Who leaves you alone?"
"Whoever didn't leave the rest of my crew alone. Whoever sang 'em the
old siren song, that's who. Once a spaceman, always a spaceman, sir.
And not a one of those men pulled out because he wanted to do it!
That's what I'm saying. And I'm telling you to watch out. I'm blasting
off for the Moon again on the 25th. I hope you're aboard."
Kane shrugged as the Captain bowed out, making disgruntled noises in
his throat. He was getting along in years, Kane reasoned, and was
probably just expressing that fact, externalizing some way or another.
Still, what he had said was odd--
The truth was, Kane had been inexcusably out of contact with the world.
The pills dulled his senses and he began to fall asleep on the
pneumatic couch. He thought of the years of work on his theories
concerning the unified fields in the formulation of spatial matter.
He thought of Helen, the good years together before her sudden death,
sharing love and work, how complete and full and good it had been.
During all those sixteen years he couldn't recall a moment of real
boredom.
He hadn't missed life on Earth. When a man has one full love and his
work, he's isolated no matter where he is, even in the middle of New
York City.
He had ten notebooks full of notes in his briefcase. It would open
their eyes, a really basic new theory that would defy the pessimistic
theory of entropy, and its assurance of an inevitable death of all
things.
Finding another wife to replace Helen wouldn't be easy of course. A new
relationship would be different, but it should be as good. It might
require some difficulties which he had anticipated and was prepared
for. He was only forty-six. He had a long time to look. He was in
excellent physical condition and was not unattractive, though of course
that wasn't the real issue either way.
He wanted love, a companion, someone who could truly share in his work.
Who would love that observatory in Albetagnius crater as a home for the
rest of her life.
He woke up, and prepared to leave the ship. He carried his briefcase
with his notes in it. The rest of his luggage would follow later.
According to Phil Nordson, there was a suite reserved for him at the
Midtown Hotel at 50th and Madison Avenue.
He climbed down the ladder to the exit. The door was open and a heavy
fog drifted past the opening, but a small dark car with two drivers
waited outside.
As Kane stepped down the gangplank, one of the figures, a woman in a
light blue uniform, jumped out and opened the door for him.
Interest and excitement rose in Kane as the car moved through the mist
toward the terminal where he was to meet Phil. It would probably do him
good, get away from his work, different surroundings, just rest up a
little. Even live it up a little perhaps. There would be parties, and
he wanted to see a little of the country. Maybe visit some of Helen's
relatives in the Middle West, and he certainly wanted to have some
long bull sessions with Professors Martinson and Legmann over at the
University.
Then there was the question of meeting the right kind of woman. That
was something only the fates could decide, Kane thought. He was no
romantic, but that sort of thing wasn't something you could figure out
in advance, plot out like an equation. It wasn't anything you could
handle with personality charts, though they had been trying that when
he'd left. The personality you could measure with gadgets was such a
small part of it really....
But Phil would arrange for the social activities. As he recalled his
old schoolmate, he remembered that Phil was a very social kind of
fellow. Phil had thought it was absurd, Kane's volunteering for that
job in Albetagnius. Phil hadn't even gone on to post-graduate work in
electronics, his chosen field. Phil had gone right out to accept a
position with Isotopics Unlimited, somewhere in New Jersey.
They had corresponded for a while; and the cablegram from Phil had
expressed Phil's delight at Kane's decision to return to Earth.
The car stopped before the well-lighted entrance to terminal building
No. 214 and the woman hopped out, opened the door for Kane. He went
inside the building, feeling the abnormally heavy pull of gravity. He
had grown accustomed to the gravity on the Moon, and though his body
was already starting to adapt itself, it would take time, and he was
beginning to feel the drag.
Phil was there waiting. He hadn't mentioned anyone else being there,
and Kane certainly didn't expect anyone else. He didn't know anyone
really, no one other than Phil except Martin and Legmann. But there
was Phil, and a number of people around him, and they were all rushing
toward Kane, smiling, shouting, waving their arms. Phil looked much the
same, tall and flashily dressed, thin and good looking as always, but
with hair slightly greying.
The others, men, women, various ages and sizes, waving scarfs and
circling eagerly around Kane, broke out in a happy chorus of mixed
voices:
_Greetings! Welcome, Old Friend Kane!
Welcome home to Earth again._
Kane felt a brief compulsion to retreat, but that was absurd.
"Good to see you, Prof!" Phil shouted.
"Hello, Phil." Someone grabbed his briefcase. Kane tried to get it back
but it was gone among the frothing arms and milling bodies.
"We'll take care of it, Kane boy," Phil said. His arm was over Kane's
shoulders. Several women were hanging onto Kane's arms. Healthy,
tanned, lovely women.
"Sure glad to see you, Prof. Aren't we?"