legs and leaning back. “Next you’ll tell us we have to join the marches for those miners on Merk.”
“What’s your name?” Turnbull asked.
“Christopher Van Cott. Does it go on a list of baddies?”
“Where you from, Chris?”
“Chicago Arc One. And it’s Christopher.”
“You know, Christopher, there are few real loners in science. It’s a cumulative, cooperative venture, even for those who won’t admit it.”
“For the pure in heart,” Van Cott said.
“Aw, shut up!” someone shouted.
Van Cott sounded dedicated and independent. A part of me liked him, despite the blind spots.
“The place for extreme individual visions is in literature and art,” Turnbull said.
Turnbull did seem a bit prissy. Wear a smile and have friends; scowl and have wrinkles. But people wanted to get along out here; cooperation had been absolutely necessary to build and operate worlds from scratch. Traditions were newer out here. You could be more of a wolf among sheep on Earth, but even there it was getting harder. As for the part about science, it seemed to me that it got done any way it could, cooperation and good manners aside.
The session left me wondering a bit about what kind of person I was. As we stood up to leave, the auburn-haired girl turned around and looked at me with large brown eyes. She smiled, as if commenting on what had been said, then walked away.
Lunch was in Cole Hall, a few hundred yards from our dorm. Most everyone had gone ahead by the time Morey and I came outside. It was still strange, seeing no horizon and the land curving gently upward, overhead, beyond the wispy clouds.
“That Van Cott character, what did you think of him?” I asked.
“I kind of liked him,” Morey replied.
“Why?”
“He’ll work harder, do more.”
“But he’s no smarter than us, just wound up more inside.”
“Guys like him get the prizes, because they won’t let anything distract them.”
“Not always,” I said loudly. What Morey was saying was true but not likeable, I thought as the large transparent doors slid open and we went inside and got on line. Morey was more like Van Cott. We waited in silence as the long line moved up the ramp from the lounge, and I remembered Marisa telling me that I was not like Morey. Then what was I like? Somebody who worried a lot about himself, she would have said.
The second-floor dining area was all windows, bright with daylight, and the land was all around us, in place of sky.
I scanned the tables. Linda was sitting with Van Cott at the far end. She seemed younger today. I stared, but she was too far away to notice.
“Come on,” Morey said impatiently, and we went in to get our food. I didn’t like the tone of his voice. I knew that he would consider Linda a distraction, and seeing her with Van Cott had irritated him. As far as I was concerned, Van Cott could use all the distractions he could get.
We walked around the campus after lunch. It was easy to picture where everything was, because the student center and dorms were all within the inner circle of the university. Head outward from the center to get to classes; move toward the outer circle to get to labs. Walks cut across the greens between the rings. These were actually small parks, with benches and play areas for children, tennis courts, and pools.
The student center was a huge three-floor oval with a ribbon of window circling each floor. Morey and I walked into the giant lounge area. A giant holo image stood in the center of the polished red floor, offering newscasts from Earth.
Students sprawled on the floor, walked through the 3-D picture, sat in chairs and hassocks, and leaned against the walls. Multicolored sheen shorts and collarless shirts were everywhere. Haircuts were close among the boys, longer and curly among the girls.
Morey and I didn’t fit, with our collared shirts, creased slacks, and longer hair.
“News,” I said, crossing my arms and trying to look as if we had come here for
“What’s your name?” Turnbull asked.
“Christopher Van Cott. Does it go on a list of baddies?”
“Where you from, Chris?”
“Chicago Arc One. And it’s Christopher.”
“You know, Christopher, there are few real loners in science. It’s a cumulative, cooperative venture, even for those who won’t admit it.”
“For the pure in heart,” Van Cott said.
“Aw, shut up!” someone shouted.
Van Cott sounded dedicated and independent. A part of me liked him, despite the blind spots.
“The place for extreme individual visions is in literature and art,” Turnbull said.
Turnbull did seem a bit prissy. Wear a smile and have friends; scowl and have wrinkles. But people wanted to get along out here; cooperation had been absolutely necessary to build and operate worlds from scratch. Traditions were newer out here. You could be more of a wolf among sheep on Earth, but even there it was getting harder. As for the part about science, it seemed to me that it got done any way it could, cooperation and good manners aside.
The session left me wondering a bit about what kind of person I was. As we stood up to leave, the auburn-haired girl turned around and looked at me with large brown eyes. She smiled, as if commenting on what had been said, then walked away.
Lunch was in Cole Hall, a few hundred yards from our dorm. Most everyone had gone ahead by the time Morey and I came outside. It was still strange, seeing no horizon and the land curving gently upward, overhead, beyond the wispy clouds.
“That Van Cott character, what did you think of him?” I asked.
“I kind of liked him,” Morey replied.
“Why?”
“He’ll work harder, do more.”
“But he’s no smarter than us, just wound up more inside.”
“Guys like him get the prizes, because they won’t let anything distract them.”
“Not always,” I said loudly. What Morey was saying was true but not likeable, I thought as the large transparent doors slid open and we went inside and got on line. Morey was more like Van Cott. We waited in silence as the long line moved up the ramp from the lounge, and I remembered Marisa telling me that I was not like Morey. Then what was I like? Somebody who worried a lot about himself, she would have said.
The second-floor dining area was all windows, bright with daylight, and the land was all around us, in place of sky.
I scanned the tables. Linda was sitting with Van Cott at the far end. She seemed younger today. I stared, but she was too far away to notice.
“Come on,” Morey said impatiently, and we went in to get our food. I didn’t like the tone of his voice. I knew that he would consider Linda a distraction, and seeing her with Van Cott had irritated him. As far as I was concerned, Van Cott could use all the distractions he could get.
We walked around the campus after lunch. It was easy to picture where everything was, because the student center and dorms were all within the inner circle of the university. Head outward from the center to get to classes; move toward the outer circle to get to labs. Walks cut across the greens between the rings. These were actually small parks, with benches and play areas for children, tennis courts, and pools.
The student center was a huge three-floor oval with a ribbon of window circling each floor. Morey and I walked into the giant lounge area. A giant holo image stood in the center of the polished red floor, offering newscasts from Earth.
Students sprawled on the floor, walked through the 3-D picture, sat in chairs and hassocks, and leaned against the walls. Multicolored sheen shorts and collarless shirts were everywhere. Haircuts were close among the boys, longer and curly among the girls.
Morey and I didn’t fit, with our collared shirts, creased slacks, and longer hair.
“News,” I said, crossing my arms and trying to look as if we had come here for
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