_Strange to think that from twenty-odd
light-years away, other eyes see our own Sun
blazing in the middle of a familiar constellation...._
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, October 1958.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Pehn Karn sat in the signal dome, idly waiting while his friend,
adjusted the dials of the receiver. The recording tape spilled over the
table in loops of aluminum.
"Doesn't this job get dull?" he inquired.
Nautunal turned the fifth dial a few degrees, and glanced up. "Depends
on your interest. It's true this is just routine space-sweep, but
noise from space is amazingly variegated. Just one more sector to scan
tonight, and I'll be through. What's matter with you, Pehn? Your face
looks little lopsided."
Pehn tried to grin, and fingered the slight swelling on his cheek. "My
face will never be my fortune, I guess. I don't know what's matter.
Just ache."
Even at his best, as Pehn's family loved to remind him, he was an
ugly young man; he had none of the rounded placidity of feature which
was the ideal of his race. His olive skin stretched too tightly over
his cheekbones, and his black eyes peered too intensely from their
deep sockets. It helped very little that he happened to be extremely
intelligent.
Pehn covered the aching place with his hand, and tried to concentrate
on the emerging spills of tape. As a matter of fact, he had been having
severe periodic toothaches for six months now, but had never spoken of
it.