Intermission Time

“That’s a thing the scientists want to find out,” said the girl. “They say that’s the way humanity started out, and we nave almost completed a full circle. They want to learn at what point humanity should have turned aside in order to have kept climbing.”

“That’s horrible — deliberately turning you into savages in order to test a theory.”

“Well, don’t feel so sorry for me. Exactly what do you think they are going to do to you?”

“I don’t know,” he said in sudden weariness. “I think that I would rather never have heard of Human Developments Project.”

“Then you’d better get off the ship in a hurry,” she said lightly, “because there’s the take-off warning. We’ve got to get to our cabins and on the take-off couch before the next bell. Come on, Toby!”

3

He was sick during the take-off. When they were finally in space he sat up, his head balloon-like and his stomach spinning. He saw Doris leaning calmly by the port, watching the dwindling Earth. For a moment he hated her cool competence and self containment. He would have to be the one to get sick.

“Feeling better, Johnny?” She came over, smiling with the sympathy of a superior creature. “It hit you pretty rough. The steward said they don’t usually go out like that.”

“I'm all right.”

For the rest of the day he stayed in the stateroom. He watched the fading disk of Earth; the overdrive wouldn’t be keyed in for another day. Even though it gave him a sickening vertigo. he could not resist the hypnotic last look at his home land.

He wanted to forego dinner entirely that evening, but when Doris offered to have the steward bring it to his room, he refused the suggestion. “I can make it to the diningroom,” he said.

He didn’t tell her the one reason he wanted to go; he could scarcely admit to himself that it was only to meet again the girl who wore the flame-red dress and owned a yellow cat. He told himself he wanted to see his fellow passengers, to meet the others who were foolhardy enough to give up all they possessed on Earth for this Human Developments experiment.

He walked slowly through the diningroom, Doris’ hand upon his arm. He scanned the surrounding tables for the one familiar face, but he failed to see her anywhere.

Then he thought he understood. It was a small diningroom, and certainly not all those who had boarded the ship were here. Each colony-group undoubtedly had its own section and facilities; he asked the waiter about it.

The man nodded. “This is Alpha Colony,” he said. “Beta, Gamma and Delta recruits are on the other decks. Is there someone you wish to find?”

He hesitated. “I have a friend — a Control.”

“I'm sorry, sir,” said the waiter; “surely they must have told you. There’s no communication permitted between Control-colonists and any of the experimental groups — for purposes of the experiment, you understand. You may check with your indoctrination supervisor, sir, if there is any misunderstanding about this.”

There is no misunderstanding, John thought dully. It was just another of the things that were happening to him. And this, he didn’t want. It seemed suddenly of vital importance that he see again the girl in the flame-red dress. He did not even know her name. He could not speak of her or ask about her by name, he thought.

“Don’t you feel like eating?” said Doris.

“I guess my stomach can’t take this yet”

Shipboard indoctrination-courses were held for each separate group, to acquaint them further with the work of their colony. A Dr. Martin Bronson was supervisor of the Alpha Colony group. John met him the following day, when he came to the stateroom to introduce himself.

He found he was unable to carry out his prepared determination to dislike Bronson. He estimated the man to be about thirty-five, and there seemed a wistful air about him — as if he wished he knew all the answers he was supposed to know.

“I’m acquainted with your music,” he said; “I have all your records on Planet 7. It was pleasant to learn that you and your sister were joining us. I look forward to much more of your music.”

John indicated a chair by the port. “Is that what we are being brought there for? To be court musicians, as it were?”

Instantly he regretted the bad temper of his remark. A shadow crossed the face of Bronson. “You really don't like music?” he said.

“I’m afraid I really don’t like Alpha Colony, if you want me to be honest. It’s because of my sister that I came, but I had no goal of my own: I’ll try not to be uncooperative in whatever you require.”

“There is very little that we require of you,” said Bronson. “Almost all we ask is the opportunity to watch you live — in the social and physical environment we provide.

“We have a section in Alpha Colony devoted to the study of esthetics; we want you and your sister in that group. It has always been known that esthetic values contributed much to the rise of mankind, but they have never been adequately evaluated.