Longevity -- Fiction; Older people -- Fiction; Science fiction; Space flight -- Fiction
"You're probably working too hard. I just came from Westcott's room. He
and a couple of other fellows are going it fast and furious on problems
in architecture--as if they were trying to make their first billion
the hard way. Relax, man. The United Assembly didn't mean us to work
ourselves to death."
"What did they mean us to do?" Wyckoff asked with the first sign of
interest.
Avery let loose one of his rare chuckles. "Who knows? They don't.
Something impractical, you can be sure. But they didn't send us out to
die. We cost 'em too much."
"More than we're worth." A statement.
"Of course. Billions, actually, and on some fool thing like this.
You can't teach 'em. Government generations are too short. The only
administration they care about is the last one and how to talk it down.
It would take a major catastrophe to beat any sense into their heads."
"I suppose so." Wyckoff still stared at the floor.
"They didn't have any place for us in their set-up, and they aren't
smart enough to figure out any. We know too much. The best they could
come up with was this scheme to get us out of sight." Wyckoff was
certainly a good listener. "They won't even know if we land safely for
another two-three years when the ship does or doesn't come back for
supplies. You'd think even the most moronic secretariat would know
better than to send out a bunch of colonists that can't even multiply."
"But they sent us. They must have thought there was something we could
do."
"We'll never know who sent us--or why. It's all mixed up with politics
somewhere. Ours but to do as they say."
"Do or die."
"What? Oh ... the quotation. Well, I stand corrected--don't know as it
makes any great difference. We all will someday, in spite of the great
Farrar and his coddling hospital."
Samuel looked even more fragile and a little wistful as he glanced up
at Avery at last. "We thought this would be more interesting than the
hospital, anyway."
"You don't like it?" El felt a sudden relief. Actually he didn't want
to rob these people of any fun, he thought, and obviously most of them
weren't having any anyway.
"It's just the same. Maybe we're too old to find it interesting. I dare
say younger people...."
"Well, nobody can say it's our fault, anyhow. We didn't ask to get old
any more than we asked to be born. I better go nose-side. Captain's
waiting. Good night."
"Good night." Sam Wyckoff stood and followed Avery to the door. As it
closed, he looked down at his unbuttoned shirt, his socks. "We didn't
ask to get old," he whispered, and went back to the edge of his bunk.
* * * * *
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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