think money matters anymore?”
• • •
A few days later Maya floated under the curve of the bubble dome with Frank and John, looking ahead at Mars, which was now a gibbous orb the size of a dime.
“A lot of arguments these days,” John remarked casually. “I hear Alex and Mary got into an actual fight. Michel says it’s to be expected, but still . . .”
“Maybe we brought too many leaders,” Maya said.
“Maybe you should have been the only one,” Frank jibed.
“Too many chiefs?” said John.
Frank shook his head. “That’s not it.”
“No? There are a lot of stars on board.”
“The urge to excel and the urge to lead aren’t the same. Sometimes I think they may be opposites.”
“I leave the judgment to you, Captain.” John grinned at Frank’s scowl. He was, Maya thought, the only relaxed person left among them.
“The shrinks saw the problem,” Frank went on, “it was obvious enough even for them. They used the Harvard solution.”
“The Harvard solution,” John repeated, savoring the phrase.
“Long ago Harvard’s administrators noticed that if they accepted only straight-A high school students, and then gave out the whole range of grades to freshmen, a distressing number of them were getting unhappy at their Ds and Fs and messing up the Yard by blowing their brains out on it.”
“Couldn’t have that,” John said.
Maya rolled her eyes. “You two must have gone to trade schools, eh?”
“The trick to avoiding this unpleasantness, they found, was to accept a certain percentage of students who were used to getting mediocre grades, but had distinguished themselves in some other way—”
“Like having the nerve to apply to Harvard with mediocre grades—”
“— used to the bottom of the grade curve, and happy just to be at Harvard at all.”
“How did you hear of this?” Maya asked.
Frank smiled. “I was one of them.”
“We don’t have any mediocrities on this ship,” John said.
Frank looked dubious. “We do have a lot of smart scientists with no interest in running things. Many of them consider it boring. Administration, you know. They’re glad to hand it over to people like us.”
“Beta males,” John said, mocking Frank and his interest in sociobiology. “Brilliant sheep.” The way they mocked each other . . .
“You’re wrong,” Maya said to Frank.
“Maybe so. Anyway, they’re the body politic. They have at least the power to follow.” He said this as if the idea depressed him.
John, due for a shift on the bridge, said good-bye and left.
Frank floated over to Maya’s side, and she shifted nervously. They had never discussed their brief affair, and it hadn’t come up, even indirectly, in quite a while. She had thought about what to say, if it ever did: she would say that she occasionally indulged herself with men she liked. That it had been something done on the spur of the moment.
But he only pointed to the red dot in the sky. “I wonder why we’re going.”
Maya shrugged. Probably he meant not we , but I . “Everyone has their reasons,” she said.
He glanced at her. “That’s so true.”
She ignored his tone of voice. “Maybe it’s our genes,” she said. “Maybe they felt things going wrong on Earth. Felt an increased speed of mutation, or something like that.”
“So they struck out for a clean start.”
“Yes.”
“The selfish gene theory. Intelligence only a tool to aid successful reproduction.”
“I suppose.”
“But this trip endangers successful reproduction,” Frank said. “It isn’t safe out here.”
“But it isn’t safe on Earth either. Waste, radiation, other people. . . .”
Frank shook his head. “No. I don’t think the selfishness is in the genes. I think it’s somewhere else.” He reached out with a forefinger and tapped her between the breasts— a solid tap on the sternum, causing him to drift back to the floor. Staring at her the whole while, he touched himself in the same
• • •
A few days later Maya floated under the curve of the bubble dome with Frank and John, looking ahead at Mars, which was now a gibbous orb the size of a dime.
“A lot of arguments these days,” John remarked casually. “I hear Alex and Mary got into an actual fight. Michel says it’s to be expected, but still . . .”
“Maybe we brought too many leaders,” Maya said.
“Maybe you should have been the only one,” Frank jibed.
“Too many chiefs?” said John.
Frank shook his head. “That’s not it.”
“No? There are a lot of stars on board.”
“The urge to excel and the urge to lead aren’t the same. Sometimes I think they may be opposites.”
“I leave the judgment to you, Captain.” John grinned at Frank’s scowl. He was, Maya thought, the only relaxed person left among them.
“The shrinks saw the problem,” Frank went on, “it was obvious enough even for them. They used the Harvard solution.”
“The Harvard solution,” John repeated, savoring the phrase.
“Long ago Harvard’s administrators noticed that if they accepted only straight-A high school students, and then gave out the whole range of grades to freshmen, a distressing number of them were getting unhappy at their Ds and Fs and messing up the Yard by blowing their brains out on it.”
“Couldn’t have that,” John said.
Maya rolled her eyes. “You two must have gone to trade schools, eh?”
“The trick to avoiding this unpleasantness, they found, was to accept a certain percentage of students who were used to getting mediocre grades, but had distinguished themselves in some other way—”
“Like having the nerve to apply to Harvard with mediocre grades—”
“— used to the bottom of the grade curve, and happy just to be at Harvard at all.”
“How did you hear of this?” Maya asked.
Frank smiled. “I was one of them.”
“We don’t have any mediocrities on this ship,” John said.
Frank looked dubious. “We do have a lot of smart scientists with no interest in running things. Many of them consider it boring. Administration, you know. They’re glad to hand it over to people like us.”
“Beta males,” John said, mocking Frank and his interest in sociobiology. “Brilliant sheep.” The way they mocked each other . . .
“You’re wrong,” Maya said to Frank.
“Maybe so. Anyway, they’re the body politic. They have at least the power to follow.” He said this as if the idea depressed him.
John, due for a shift on the bridge, said good-bye and left.
Frank floated over to Maya’s side, and she shifted nervously. They had never discussed their brief affair, and it hadn’t come up, even indirectly, in quite a while. She had thought about what to say, if it ever did: she would say that she occasionally indulged herself with men she liked. That it had been something done on the spur of the moment.
But he only pointed to the red dot in the sky. “I wonder why we’re going.”
Maya shrugged. Probably he meant not we , but I . “Everyone has their reasons,” she said.
He glanced at her. “That’s so true.”
She ignored his tone of voice. “Maybe it’s our genes,” she said. “Maybe they felt things going wrong on Earth. Felt an increased speed of mutation, or something like that.”
“So they struck out for a clean start.”
“Yes.”
“The selfish gene theory. Intelligence only a tool to aid successful reproduction.”
“I suppose.”
“But this trip endangers successful reproduction,” Frank said. “It isn’t safe out here.”
“But it isn’t safe on Earth either. Waste, radiation, other people. . . .”
Frank shook his head. “No. I don’t think the selfishness is in the genes. I think it’s somewhere else.” He reached out with a forefinger and tapped her between the breasts— a solid tap on the sternum, causing him to drift back to the floor. Staring at her the whole while, he touched himself in the same
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