JAYWALKER BY ROSS ROCKLYNNE Illustrated by DON DIBLEY [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction December 1950. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Women may be against progress because it means new pseudo-widowhoods. Space-widowhood, for instance.... At last she was on the gangplank, entering the mouth of the spaceship--and nothing could ever stop her now. Not unless she broke down completely in front of all these hurrying, Moon-bound passengers, in plain sight of the scattered crowd which clustered on the other side of the space-field barriers. Even that possibility was denied her when two gently insistent middle-aged ladies indicated she was blocking the way.... Somehow, dizzily, she was at her seat, led there by a smiling, brown-clad stewardess; and her azure-tipped fingers were clutching at the pearl-gray plasta-leather of the chair arm. Her eyes, the azure of her nails, the azure (so she had been told) of Earth seen from interplanetary space, grew hot. She closed them, and for a moment gave herself up to an almost physical yearning for the Toluca Lake house--the comfort, the safety, the--the _sanity_ of it. * * * * * Stubbornly she forced herself back to reality. At any moment Jack, dark-eyed and scrappy, might come swinging down the long, shining aisle. Jack--Captain Jack McHenry, if you please--must not know, yet, what she was doing to patch up their marriage. She turned her face away from the aisle, covered her cheek with her hand to hide it. Her gaze went out through the ray-proof glass port to the field, to the laboring beetle of a red tractor bearing the gangway on its busy back, to the low, blast-proof administration building. When her gaze came to the tall sign over the entrance, she hurried it past; it was too late to think about that now, the square, shouting type that read: CAUTION HAVE YOU PASSED YOUR PHYSICAL EXAMINATION? _Avoiding It May Cost Your Life!_ "May I see your validation, please?" Marcia McHenry stiffened. Had she read the sign aloud? She turned startled eyes up to the smiling stewardess, who was holding out a well-groomed hand. Marcia responded weakly to the smile, overcame a sudden urge to blurt out that she had no validation--not her own, anyway. But her stiff fingers were already holding out the pink card with Nellie Foster's name on it. "You're feeling well, Mrs. Foster?" _Feeling well? Yes, of course. Except for the--usual sickness. But that's so very normal_.... Her numb lips moved. "I'm fine," she said.