Kellon felt a deepening distaste. This was all true, but still it was phony. What was Earth now to him, or to Borrodale, or his billions of listeners? But it was a story, a sentimental occasion, so they had to pump it up into something big. "Some thirty-five hundred years ago," Borrodale was saying, "our ancestors lived on this world alone. That was when they first went into space. To these other planets first--but very soon, to other stars. And so our Federation began, our community of human civilization on many stars and worlds." Now, in the monitor, the view of Earth's dun globe had been replaced by the face of Borrodale in close-up. He paused dramatically. "Then, over two thousand years ago, it was discovered that the sun of Earth was about to collapse into a white dwarf. So those people who still remained on Earth left it forever and when the solar change came, it and the other planets became mantled in eternal ice. And now, within months, the final end of the old planet of our origin is at hand. It is slowly spiralling toward the sun and soon it will plunge into it as Mercury and Venus have already done. And when that occurs, the world of man's origin will be gone forever." Again the pause, for just the right length of time, and then Borrodale continued in a voice expertly pitched in a lower key. "We on this ship--we humble reporters and servants of the vast telaudio audience on all the worlds--have come here so that in these next weeks we can give you this last look at our ancestral world. We think--we hope--that you'll find interest in recalling a past that is almost legend." And Kellon thought, "The bastard has no more interest in this old planet than I have, but he surely is smooth." * * * * * As soon as the broadcast ended, Kellon found himself besieged once more by the clamoring crowd in the main cabin. He held up his hand in protest. "Please, now--now we have a landing to make first. Will you come with me, Doctor Darnow?" Darnow was from Historical Bureau, and was the titular head of the whole expedition, although no one paid him much attention. He was a sparrowy, elderly man who babbled excitedly as he went with Kellon to the bridge. He at least, was sincere in his interest, Kellon thought. For that matter, so were all the dozen-odd scientists who were aboard. But they were far out-numbered by the fat cats and big brass out for publicity, the professional enthusers and sentimentalist. A real hell of a job the Survey had given him! In the bridge, he glanced through the window at the dun-colored planet and its satellite. Then he asked Darnow, "You said something about a particular place where you wanted to land?" The historiographer bobbed his head, and began unfolding a big, old-fashioned chart. "See this continent here? Along its eastern coast were a lot of the biggest cities, like New York." Kellon remembered that name, he'd learned it in school history, a long time ago.