As starship Thirteen passed the orbit of Pluto, a meeting was held, since this could be considered the beginning of interstellar space. The ship was reasonably large--ten small private cabins, a bridge that would only be used for planetfalls, large storage areas, and a big common room, where the crew had gathered. They were sitting in All-Purpose Lounges, arranged in a circle. A few had their Lounges at full recline, but most preferred the upright position. Oliver Brunei, the nominal captain, had just opened the first case of Omnidrene, and taken out a bottle of the tiny pills. "This, fellow inmates," he said, "is Omnidrene. The time has come for us to indulge. The automatics are all set, we won't have to do a thing we don't want to for the next eight years." He poured ten of the tiny blue pills into the palm of his right hand. "On Earth, they used to have some kind of traditional ceremony when a person crossed the equator for the first time. Since we are crossing a far more important equator, I thought we should have some kind of ceremony." The crew squirmed irritably. I _do_ tend to be verbose, Brunei thought. "Well ... anyway, I just thought we all oughta take the first pills together," he said, somewhat defensively. "So come on, Ollie," said a skinny, sour-looking man of about thirty years. "O.K., Lazar, O.K." Marashovski's gonna be trouble, Brunei thought. Why did they put _him_ on the ship? He handed the pills around. Lazar Marashovski was about to gulp his down. "Wait a minute!" said Brunei. "Let's all do it together." "One, two, _three_!" They swallowed the pills. In about ten minutes, thought Brunei, we should be feeling it. He looked at the crew. Ten of us, he thought, ten brilliant misfits. Lazar, who has spent half his life high on baronite; Vera Galindez, would-be medium, trying to make herself telepathic with mescaline; Jorge Donner.... Why is _he_ here? Me, at least with me it's simple--this or jail. What a crew! Drug addicts, occultists, sensationalists ... _and what else?_ What makes a person do a thing like this? It'll all come out, thought Brunei. In sixteen years, it'll all come out. "Feel anything yet, Ollie?" said Marsha Johnson. No doubt why _she_ came along. Just an ugly old maid liking the idea of being cooped up with five men. "Nothing yet," said Brunei. He looked around the room. Plain steel walls, lined with cabinets full of Omnidrene on two sides, viewscreen on the ceiling, bare floor, the other two walls decked out like an automat. Plain, gray steel walls.... _Then why were the gray steel walls turning pink?_ "Oh, oh ..." said Joby Krail, rolling her pretty blond head, "oh, oh ... here it comes. The walls are dancing...." "The ceiling is a spiral," muttered Vera, "a winding red spiral." "O.K., fellow inmates," said Brunei, "it's hitting." Now the walls were red, bright fire-engine red, and they were melting. No, not melting, but evaporating....