The next morning he felt the same way. He was called into HQ for last minute instructions that were the same as those laid out months ago. Cantrell knew them by memory, but the excitement of the impending blastoff prevented his being bored or even from being annoyed by the psychiatrist's inevitable presence. Now there was nothing to prevent the leap of the Earthbound into space; not even Jarvis could delay it now. The jeep drove Jarvis, Evans and Cantrell to the waiting rocket. They got out. Evans offered his hand. "Good-bye, Cantrell, come back in one piece." "Sorry I was so hard on you, Cantrell," Jarvis said, extending his hand. "I hope you make it okay." Cantrell nodded and took the man's hand. "Thanks. I expect to." He climbed the ladder to the airlock door and stood there for a moment watching the jeep carry its passengers across the field to a safe distance. Then he went inside and strapped himself into the seat. "Okay, Cantrell," Control said. "Blast off when ready." "Right," Cantrell said into the radio. He closed the airlock door and checked pressure gauges. "In ten seconds," he said, activating the firing mechanism. Mentally he counted: ten, nine, eight, seven.... The rocket shuddered, and Cantrell found himself pressed suddenly into the seat. In the viewscreens Earth spun dizzily away from him. After a few minutes the push ceased and weightlessness began. "Everything okay, Cantrell?" the radio said, after awhile. It was Evans. "Fine, Colonel," Cantrell said. "Not a dog or a cat in sight." "Can you see Earth?" Cantrell manipulated dials, activating the lower television eyes. "There she is," he said. "Looks real impressive. I can see nearly all of North America now and a good part of the Pacific. The land looks queer from up here,"--he frowned--"something like--" He broke off, staring. "Like--" "Like what?" Jarvis' voice demanded suddenly. "It looks like what, Cantrell?" Cantrell shook his head bewilderedly. "Nothing," he said uncertainly. He felt a sudden irritation that Jarvis couldn't let him alone even with so much of space intervening. "It looks like I'm going to make it to the moon, that's all." "You were going to say something else, Cantrell, what?" "Let him alone, Jarvis," Evans whispered; "he's got enough to worry about." "That's right," Cantrell said irritably, "and I'm going to worry about it in silence." He reached for the radio switch. "But, Cantrell--" Evans said. Then the radio went dead. Cantrell grinned and watched Earth getting smaller below. The grin faded as he thought of his almost-spoken comparison of a few minutes before, of the land resembling the shriveled skin of an animal. Jarvis would have made much of that, of course, with his psychiatric ramblings. Yet, the comparison was disturbing just the same. Why did he torture himself?