Intermission Time

There were almost a hundred volunteers waiting behind the gates of the spaceport. each the nucleus of a cluster of friends and relatives saying last goodbyes. Some of the groups were quiet, waiting for the inevitable; others were stormy pools filled with last minute tears and clinging.

The sky above the port was cloud-specked and shining, as if Earth herself were putting on a last and final appeal to the emigres to think again of what they were abandoning. John watched the little whirlwinds on the field and wondered if the dust of Planet 7 had the hot, dry smell of old forgotten lanes in summertime; if you could imagine faces and horses and ships of the sea in her clouds.

He stood near the center of their group. Even the buzz of human voices was a kind of music, he thought. But he wouldn’t hear these voices — not ever again.

He edged away from Mel’s silent pleading; the bustling, explosive fury of George’s last minute demands that Doris come to her senses; the mumbled congratulations of the two score fellow musicians; the whine of several hundred fans and musical followers.

It was not hard to escape. Attention was on Doris, incredibly beautiful and untouched by the fact that she was leaving Earth today and would never see it again. John felt that none of the talk was addressed to him.

He watched the star-ship slowly moving to its launching-base, towed by chugging tractors that strained like insects against its mass. He tried to look over the heads of the crowd to see others who would be his own companions on the journey.

And then he caught a startling movement of color threading between the islands of humanity.

It was a girl in a flame-red dress. At the gate she stood on tiptoe, clutching the iron bars like an eager child. He strolled to the gate and stood beside her. “If you’re looking for anyone in the crowd, I’m afraid you’ll have a hard time of it, now,” he said.

“Oh, no.” She glanced up quickly. “I'm going to get on the ship. Are you going, too?” Her waves of dark hair trembled and the almost-black pupils of her eyes glistened with light.

Whatever the scientists on Planet 7 considered worth passing on to the future, John hoped they would preserve that light. He had never seen its like before, he thought. “Yes, I’m going,” he said.

They watched the big ship. It was motionless now and mechanics scurried ant-like at its base. Hatches opened ponderously.

“Do you think we can help?” asked John. “Do you think humanity a thousand years from now will be better for our going?”

The girl laughed. “I don’t know about humanity a thousand years from now; I’m going to help myself.”

As if his silence reproved her, she turned her head defiantly. “And anyway, I'm humanity! And they don’t care why you go, as long as you have enough of the qualities of a guinea-pig.”

“I wasn't going to scold you,” he said; “your attitude is refreshing. It’s just that it’s customary to speak with a long face, and in solemn tones, of the great things that Human Developments is doing for the future of mankind.”

“No one connected with the whole thing cares a hoot about the future of mankind a thousand years from now. The scientists are concerned because it’s their business to manipulate guinea-pigs; and they have finally conceived the most colossal guinea-pig show ever dreamed up.

“The rest of us have our own reasons. Some of us are running away; some are going for the fun of it. And others — well, you’ll see when you get there. It isn’t the noble, self-sacrificing bunch the newsmen like to picture. After all, no one ever comes back to tell what it’s like out there.”

John stared at the girl. She was as challenging as a winter morning. And could she be right? He knew there was no nobility in his going, but what would she make of Doris’ high-minded purposes?

Doris didn't have to run from anything. Her mind was swift and sharp enough to encompass the whole universe including humanity a thousand years from now. The girl's swift estimation of her fellow travelers would hardly apply to his sister. He'd have to see that they met aboard ship, he thought.

But now the gates rumbled aside as the guards removed the pin-locks and chains. Slowly, at first — as if almost reluctant to embark upon the course that had been so carefully and greatly planned — the wave of emigres moved over the field, while guards held back the protesting, well-wishing friends and relatives.

John looked back towards Doris and felt the surge of the crowd separate him from the girl in the flame-red dress. “I'll see you aboard ship!” he called. “I'm in Alpha Colony section.”

Her smile, swiftly receding through the crowd, was wistful. “I won't be seeing you. I’m going as a Control.”

* * *

He found Doris cutting her last ties with Earth carefully and dispassionately. She patted George on the cheek as if saying goodbye to a fond puppy. She gave Mel a cool and sisterly kiss. And then she was taking John's arm and hurrying him towards the gate.