[Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from Imagination Stories of
Science and Fantasy January 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any
evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
[Sidenote: Nobody at the Interstellar Space School had ever heard of
Earth so naturally they treated Smith with contempt--or was it an innate
fear?...]
Someone in the crowd tittered when the big ungainly creature reached the
head of the line.
"Name?"
The creature swayed back and forth foolishly, supporting the bulk of his
weight first on one extremity and then on the other. His face which had
a slight rosy tint anyway got redder.
"Come, come. Planet? Name?" The registrar was only a machine, but the
registrar could assume an air of feminine petulance. "We want to keep
the line moving, so if you will please--"
The creature drew a deep breath and let the two words come out in a
rush. "Earth, Smith," he said. Being nervous, he could not modulate his
voice. Unable to modulate his voice, he heard the words come out too
deep, too loud.
"Did you hear that voice?" demanded the man who had tittered. "On a cold
wet night they say the karami of Caulo boom like that. And look at
Earthsmith. Just look at him. I ask you, what can they accept at the
school and still call it a school? Hey you, Earthsmith, what courses
will you take?"
"I don't know," the creature confessed. "That's what I'm here for. I
don't even know what they teach at the school."
"He doesn't know." More tittering.
The registrar took all this in impassively, said: "What planet,
Earthsmith?"
The creature was still uncomfortable. "Earth. Only my name is not
Earthsmith. Smith--"
The titterer broke into a loud guffaw. "Earthsmith doesn't even know
what planet he's from. Good old Earthsmith." He was a small thin man,
this titterer, with too-bright eyes, vaguely purple skin, and a
well-greased shock of stiff green hair.
Smith squared his wide shoulders and looked into the colored lights of
the registrar. "It's a mistake. My name is Smith."
"What planet, Smith?"
"Earth. The planet Earth." Smith had a rosy, glistening bald head and a
hairless face. A little bead of sweat rolled into his left eye and made
him blink. He rubbed his eye.
"Age?" The machine had a way of asking questions suddenly, and Smith
just stared.
"Tell me your age. Age. How old are you?"
Smith wanted to sit down, only there were no chairs. Just the room with
its long line of people behind him, and the machine up front. The
registrar.
"I'm twenty-seven."
"Twenty-seven what?"
"You asked me my age. I'm twenty-seven years old, and three months."
Except for the clicking of the machine, there was a silence. The voice
of the machine, feminine again, seemed confused when it spoke. "I cannot
correlate years, Smith of Earth. How old are you?"
It wasn't an ordeal, really, but Smith felt more uncomfortable every
moment. Was the machine making fun of him? If it were, then it had an
ally in the crowd, because the man who had tittered was laughing again,
the green shock of hair on his head bobbing up and down.
"Earthsmith doesn't even know how old he is. Imagine."
The machine, which was more feminine than not, asked Smith how far the
planet Earth was from its primary, and what the orbital speed of the
planet was. Smith told her, but again the terminology was not capable of
correlation.
"Unclassified as to age, Smith. It's not important. I wonder, are you
dominant or receptive?"
"I'm a man. Male. Dom--"
"That doesn't matter. Smith, tell me, how long has it been since anyone
from the planet Earth has attended the school?"
Smith said he didn't know, but, to his knowledge, no one from Earth had
ever been here. "We don't get around much any more. It's not that we
can't. We just go and then we don't like it, so we come back to Earth."
"Well, from the looks of you I would say you are a receptive. Very
definitely receptive, Smith." Given sufficient data, the registrar could
not be wrong. Given sufficient data the registrar could tell you
anything you wanted to know, provided the answer could be arrived at
from the data itself. "The male and female distinction no longer holds,
of course. On some planets the female is dominant, on some she's not.
It's generally according to the time of colonization, Smith. When was
Earth colonized?"
"It wasn't."
"What do you mean, it wasn't?"
"We were always there. We colonized the rest of the galaxy. Long ago."
The registrar clicked furiously, expressed itself still more femininely
this time. "Oh, that planet! You certainly are the first, Smith. The
very first here at the school. Room 4027, dominant companion." Neuter
voice again. "That's all, Smith of Earth. Next."
The vaguely purple-skinned man stood before the registrar, winked at the
flashing lights. "You know, now I can see what they mean when we're told
of a missing link in the chain between man and animal. Old
Earthsmith...."
"Name?" said the machine.
The man pointed at Smith, shook with silent laughter. The back of
Smith's head, which could not properly be called bald because he had
never had any hair on it, was very red.
"Name's Jorak."
"Planet?" demanded the fully neuter machine.
* * * * *
There was the red star, a monstrous blotch of crimson swollen and
brooding on the horizon and filling a quarter of the sky. There was the
fleck of white high up near the top of the red giant, its white-dwarf
companion in transit. These were the high jagged crags, falling off
suddenly to the sundered, frothy sea with its blood-red sun-track fading
to pink and finally to gray far away on either side.
Smith watched the waves break far below him, and he almost stumbled when
someone tapped his shoulder.
"That was mean of the man named Jorak." She might have been a woman of
Earth, except that she was too thin, cast in a too-delicate mould. Yet
beautiful.
Smith shrugged, felt the heat rise to his face and knew that he must
have looked like a mirror for the red sun.
"Is that really a blush, Smith? Are you blushing?"