"Yes, ma'am," said Plato nervously, afraid of the embarrassing questions he could read on her face. Hastily he stared out over the side and gasped, "Gee, how small everything is!" Imagine anyone who had traveled vicariously through space with Comets Carter being awed by a flight in a plane-drawn glider! But the ruse worked. She said, "Yes, it is frightening, isn't it? Even worse than space travel." "You've been in space, ma'am?" "Bless your heart, I've been in space more times than you could shake a stick at. The takeoff isn't so nice, I'll admit, but after that you're just sailing free. What are you going to be when you grow up?" They had his future all planned for him, but he knew that he wasn't going to be any of the things they wanted him to be. He said boldly, "A space explorer." She laughed. "You youngsters are all alike inside, no matter how different you seem. My boy was the same way when he was young. But he got over it. A space explorer, no less!" * * * * * Plato didn't answer. It was only a half hour's trip, and the conductor was walking down the aisle. Plato found it difficult to take his eyes off him. He was afraid that the man would take a look at his ticket, say, "Wrong plane, son," and turn him over to the stationmaster at Space Junction, to be shipped back. In his nervousness, Plato had difficulty getting his ticket out of his pocket. As he had expected, the conductor said, "You're on the wrong flight." The motherly woman exclaimed, "Oh, isn't that a shame! Are they waiting for you in Venusberg?" Plato said tearfully, "Yes, ma'am." The tearfulness wasn't hard to manage; he'd learned the trick at school. "That's too bad. How are you going to get there?" "I don't know. I had just enough money to pay for this ticket." "Doesn't the company correct mistakes, Conductor?" "Not mistakes the passengers make," said the conductor sourly. "I'm sorry, boy, I'll have to take that ticket." The woman's eyes flashed and, as the conductor moved on, she said, "The nasty thing. They have no consideration at all. Look, child." For a moment Plato thought she was going to offer him flight fare from Space Junction to Venusberg, but she was not, he discovered, as motherly as that. "You know what you'll do when you get off? Send a 'gram, collect, to your people in Venusberg. They'll wire you your fare. And you'll reach them in a couple of hours." "Thank you, ma'am," he said, not feeling thankful at all. So it was all right to be sympathetic, he thought indignantly, up to the point where sympathy might cost her money. Like most people, she was free-handed only with advice. Who wanted advice? * * * * * At Space Junction he waved her a shy farewell, and then turned and disappeared into the station crowd.