"They don't have a license," she said. "Byron, _I_ didn't know you'd
been to _Mars_! Please _tell_ me about it."
"It was all right," I said.
That was a lie.
She was interested. She forgot to smile. It made her look nicer. She
said, "I knew a man--my brother-in-law--he was my husband's brother--I
mean my ex-husband--"
"I get the idea."
"He worked for General Atomic. In Rockford, Illinois. You know where
that is?"
"Sure." I couldn't go there, but I knew where Illinois was.
"He worked on the first Mars ship. Oh, fifteen years ago, wasn't it? He
always wanted to go himself, but he couldn't pass the tests." She
stopped and looked at me.
I knew what she was thinking. But I didn't always look this way, you
know. Not that there's anything wrong with me now, I mean, but I
couldn't pass the tests any more. Nobody can. That's why we're all
one-trippers.