what you saw was a stern majesty.
Jill’s right. I have been lucky.
His daughter had said the same last year, when he took her on a cruise through the remembered country. Her college was in megalopolitan Rio de Janeiro.
Boyhood among trees and clean currents, because his father happened to be a space architect who commuted to Vancouver when he didn’t leave Earth entirely, his mother a programmer who could work right out of her house, and they between them able to afford Ocean Falls–
I’ve seen Welfare and the Backworld too,
he told Yuri Dejerine as he had not during the day’s discussions.
Don’t get me wrong, I sympathize, I agree those people deserve a better break.
And
as far as pride in being human goes, I was at the formative age of fifteen when Gunnar Heim brought us to our victory over Alerion. I don’t merely know, I feel what that meant.
But working outsystem as a young engineer, I met Naqsans, and Satan take it, they’re our kind. Then for the last twenty years I’ve been on Ishtar, this has become my world, here’s where my duty lies–
He shook himself. Past time to report in. His boots racketed.
Twilight was deepening toward night, more and more stars out, when he finished the short climb up Humboldt Street from Riverside and opened his gate. Window-gleams caught wilted roses and bald patches in grass. Terrestrialplants didn’t give way to weeds if neglected. For that, some years would first have to pass, killing off imported earthworms and soil bacteria, restoring the original balance of acidity, nitrogen, and trace elements, letting native microbes rebuild humus. Untended exotics simply sickened and died.
I’ve got to fertilize, drain, whatever’s needful,
he thought.
When I get the chance. If I do.
No groundsmen were for hire in labor-short Primavera. Becky had handled the work.
Be honest. I could find the necessary hours if I wanted,
Sparling knew.
Truth is, I enjoy gardens but not their maintenance. Rather do carpentry for my fun, or whittle toys to give to kids human or lshtarian. And Rhoda has what Jill (Jill) calls a sere and withered thumb.
He walked in the front door. His wife laid down her book. He recognized a novel which had caused considerable excitement on Earth when he was there. The library had ordered a reel for making printouts. Curious about what went on in the novel nowadays, after its long eclipse, he kept intending to read this specimen. However, he always seemed too busy, or he was tired and preferred to relax with an old familiar like Kipling, or he was intrigued by a piece of lshtarian literature, or–
‘Hello,’ she said. ‘What happened?’ Her English kept a trace of Brazilian accent. Once he had learned Portuguese and they spoke it at home; but they’d drifted out of the habit and he lost his vocabulary.
‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you for a while,’ he grunted. Guilt reminded him weakly that she was no blabbermouth and Olga Hanshaw had been free to listen in. He replied that he was too worn out to discuss the miserable business any further – the more so when Rhoda, isolated in a minor supply-department position, would need everything explained at length which Jill saw on the instant.
‘It is not good,’ she said after watching his face.
‘No, not good.’ His lankiness flopped into a chair. A minimum he must reveal: ‘I’m leaving for Sehala tomorrow. Got to, uh, make liaison with the assembly while it stands. I expect I’ll be gone a few days.’
‘I see.’ She rose. ‘Do you care for a drink before dinner?’
‘Absolutely. Rum and a dash of lemon. About two fingers.’ He held them upright in a row.
When she smiled, a trace returned of that which had drawn him to a shy, studious girl he met on a job. She’d never been an unusual sight; he’d originally rated her at a millihelen, the amount of beauty needed to launch a single ship. But he’d always been awkward with women; he saw he could have Rhoda Vargas if he wished, and
Jill’s right. I have been lucky.
His daughter had said the same last year, when he took her on a cruise through the remembered country. Her college was in megalopolitan Rio de Janeiro.
Boyhood among trees and clean currents, because his father happened to be a space architect who commuted to Vancouver when he didn’t leave Earth entirely, his mother a programmer who could work right out of her house, and they between them able to afford Ocean Falls–
I’ve seen Welfare and the Backworld too,
he told Yuri Dejerine as he had not during the day’s discussions.
Don’t get me wrong, I sympathize, I agree those people deserve a better break.
And
as far as pride in being human goes, I was at the formative age of fifteen when Gunnar Heim brought us to our victory over Alerion. I don’t merely know, I feel what that meant.
But working outsystem as a young engineer, I met Naqsans, and Satan take it, they’re our kind. Then for the last twenty years I’ve been on Ishtar, this has become my world, here’s where my duty lies–
He shook himself. Past time to report in. His boots racketed.
Twilight was deepening toward night, more and more stars out, when he finished the short climb up Humboldt Street from Riverside and opened his gate. Window-gleams caught wilted roses and bald patches in grass. Terrestrialplants didn’t give way to weeds if neglected. For that, some years would first have to pass, killing off imported earthworms and soil bacteria, restoring the original balance of acidity, nitrogen, and trace elements, letting native microbes rebuild humus. Untended exotics simply sickened and died.
I’ve got to fertilize, drain, whatever’s needful,
he thought.
When I get the chance. If I do.
No groundsmen were for hire in labor-short Primavera. Becky had handled the work.
Be honest. I could find the necessary hours if I wanted,
Sparling knew.
Truth is, I enjoy gardens but not their maintenance. Rather do carpentry for my fun, or whittle toys to give to kids human or lshtarian. And Rhoda has what Jill (Jill) calls a sere and withered thumb.
He walked in the front door. His wife laid down her book. He recognized a novel which had caused considerable excitement on Earth when he was there. The library had ordered a reel for making printouts. Curious about what went on in the novel nowadays, after its long eclipse, he kept intending to read this specimen. However, he always seemed too busy, or he was tired and preferred to relax with an old familiar like Kipling, or he was intrigued by a piece of lshtarian literature, or–
‘Hello,’ she said. ‘What happened?’ Her English kept a trace of Brazilian accent. Once he had learned Portuguese and they spoke it at home; but they’d drifted out of the habit and he lost his vocabulary.
‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you for a while,’ he grunted. Guilt reminded him weakly that she was no blabbermouth and Olga Hanshaw had been free to listen in. He replied that he was too worn out to discuss the miserable business any further – the more so when Rhoda, isolated in a minor supply-department position, would need everything explained at length which Jill saw on the instant.
‘It is not good,’ she said after watching his face.
‘No, not good.’ His lankiness flopped into a chair. A minimum he must reveal: ‘I’m leaving for Sehala tomorrow. Got to, uh, make liaison with the assembly while it stands. I expect I’ll be gone a few days.’
‘I see.’ She rose. ‘Do you care for a drink before dinner?’
‘Absolutely. Rum and a dash of lemon. About two fingers.’ He held them upright in a row.
When she smiled, a trace returned of that which had drawn him to a shy, studious girl he met on a job. She’d never been an unusual sight; he’d originally rated her at a millihelen, the amount of beauty needed to launch a single ship. But he’d always been awkward with women; he saw he could have Rhoda Vargas if he wished, and
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