He put the end of the banana in his mouth and was just about to take a
bite when a savage burst of laughter cut him off.
"Looka him!" the vender cried. "Stupid spacer don't even know how to eat
a banana! Looka! Looka!"
Alan took the fruit out of his mouth unbitten and stared
uncomprehendingly at it. He felt uneasy; nothing in his past experience
had prepared him for deliberate hostility on the part of other people.
Aboard ship, you did your job and went your way; you didn't force your
presence on other people or poke fun at them maliciously. It was the
only way to live when you had to spend your whole lifetime with the same
shipload of men and women.
But the little vender wasn't going away. He seemed very amused by
everything. "You--you a spacer, no?" he demanded. By now a small crowd
had paused and was watching the scene.
Alan nodded.
"Lemme show you how, spacer," the vender said, mockery topmost in his
tone. He snatched the banana back from Alan and ripped back the rind
with three rough snaps of his wrist. "Go on. Eat it this way. She tastes
better without the peel." He laughed raucously. "Looka the spacer!"
Someone else in the crowd said, "What's he doing in the city anyway? He
jump ship?"
"Yeah? Why ain't he in the Enclave like all the rest of them?"
Alan looked from one to the other with a troubled expression on his
face. He didn't want to touch off any serious incident, but he was
determined not to let these Earthers push him around, either. He ignored
the ring of hostile faces about him and calmly bit into the banana. The
unfamiliar taste pleased him. Despite hoots and catcalls from the crowd
he finished it.
"Now the spacer knows how to eat a banana," the vender commented acidly.
"Here, spacer. Have another."
"I don't want another."
"Huh? No good? Earth fruits are _too_ good for you, starman. You better
learn that fast."
"Let's get out of here," Rat said quietly.
It was sensible advice. These people were just baiting him like a bunch
of hounds ringing a hare. He flexed his shoulder in a signal that meant
he agreed with Rat's suggestion.
"Have another banana," the vender repeated obstinately.
Alan looked around at the crowd. "I said I didn't want another banana,
and I _don't_ want one. Now get out of my way!"
No one moved. The vender and his monocar blocked the path.
"Get out of my way, I said." Alan balled the slimy banana peel up in his
hand and rammed it suddenly into the vender's face. "There. Chew on that
a while."
He shouldered his way past the spluttering fruit vender, and before
anyone in the crowd could say or do anything he was halfway down the
street, walking briskly. He lost himself in the passing stream of
pedestrians. It was easy to do, despite the conspicuous orange-and-blue
of his _Valhalla_ uniform. There were so many people.
He went on for two unmolested blocks, walking quickly without looking
back. Finally he decided he was safe. He glanced up at Rat. The little
extra-terrestrial was sitting patiently astride his shoulder, deep, as
usual, in some mysterious thoughts of his own.
"Rat?"
"What, Alan?"
"Why'd they do that? Why did those people act that way? I was a perfect
stranger. They had no business making trouble for me."
"That's precisely it--you _were_ a complete stranger. They don't love
you for it. You're 300 years old and still 17 at the same time. They
can't understand that. These people don't like starmen very much. The
people in this city aren't ever going to see the stars, Alan. Stars are
just faint specks of light that peek through the city haze at night.
They're terribly, terribly jealous of you--and this is the way they show
it."
"Jealous? But why? If they only knew what a starman's life is like, with
the Contraction and all! If they could only see what it is to leave your
home and never be able to go back----"
"They can't see it, Alan. All they can see is that you have the stars
and they don't. They resent it."
Alan shrugged. "Let them go to space, then, if they don't like it here.
No one's stopping them."
They walked on silently for a while. Alan continued to revolve the
incident in his mind. He realized he had a lot to learn about people,
particularly Earther people. He could handle himself pretty well aboard
ship, but down on Earth he was a rank greenhorn and he'd have to step
carefully.
He looked gloomily at the maze of streets before him and half-wished he
had stayed in the Enclave, where starmen belonged. But somewhere out
ahead of him was Steve. And somewhere, too, he might find the answer to
the big problem, that of finding the hyperspace drive.
But it was a tall order. And he had no idea where to begin. First thing
to do, he thought, is find someone halfway friendly-looking and ask if
there's a central directory of citizens. Track down Steve, if possible.
Time's running out. The _Valhalla_ pulls out in a couple of days.
There were plenty of passersby--but they all looked like the kind that
would keep on moving without answering his question. He stopped.
"_Come right in here!_" a cold metallic voice rasped, almost back of his
ear. Startled, Alan looked leftward and saw a gleaming multiform robot
standing in front of what looked like a shop of some sort.
"Come right in here!" the robot repeated, a little less forcefully now
that it had caught Alan's attention. "One credit can win you ten; five
can get you a hundred. Right in here, friend."
Alan stepped closer and peered inside. Through the dim dark blue window
he could vaguely make out long rows of tables, with men seated before
each one. From inside came the hard sound of another robot voice,
calling off an endless string of numbers.
"Don't just stand there staring, friend," the robot urged. "Go right on
through the door."