Edward Fagen, Dr. Bartholeme Blane, Dr. Charles Parker, and others whose names Harry didn't recognize. Harry wasn't one of them.
Stunned, he sat in silence as the audience applauded each time a name was announced.
In short work, all twenty teams had been announced. In vain, Harry searched for his own name among those on the big screen, but Harry Irons was conspicuously absent.
"Now," Thanopolous said, "I will reveal the names of the twenty alternates." He read from his monitor, one name after another. Finally, far into the list, he spoke Harry's name.
Frankie and George wildly beat their hands together. Bart, plugged into a pleasure disk, seemed to pay no attention. It was a shallow victory for Harry. Alternate selections were throwaways, part-time employees whose employment with the Foundation ended when the teams successfully left Earth orbit. After all his hard work and years of preparation, Harry had failed.
He was so depressed he didn't notice when Bart took his leave. Frankie tugged at Harry's sleeve. "Better get to your meeting, Harry."
"What? Oh sure."
"We'll meet you tonight. Big party, right?"
"Sure, sure," Harry responded absently and pulled himself from his seat.
The meeting for the alternates was brief. Chances for an assignment were slim, but it did occasionally happen. In any case, the group of young, disappointed people were told their names would probably be picked up by another corporation sometime in the next year. It didn't do much to buoy their spirits. Afterwards, Harry went home.
He gave his mother the bad news. She took it calmly and was more hopeful than Harry. "Anything can happen, Harrison."
Harry wasn't as upbeat as his mother. After turning down food, he descended the steps to his basement room and stared at the ceiling until he heard Frankie and George entering the kitchen. From the tone of their voices, Harry could tell his friends were excited. An evening of Foundation perks awaited them, and the chance to rub elbows with the rich and powerful.
A short time later, the three bade farewell to Mrs. Irons and left the tenement.
Had they been selected for a survey team, they would have had the services of a private Foundation limousine, and been picked up outside their doors by a luxury aircar, then delivered to the top floor of the Braithwaite 99-story executive office building. But that was not to be. Instead of looking forward to a lucrative contract and a career with the Corporation, they were the same as they had been the day before: three guys without a solid future, looking for diversion, waiting for a public bus.
It wasn't supposed to be this way, Harry thought. He was supposed to be looking forward to training with his new team and preparing to travel to the stars. Now he had to find a job and hope that sometime in the next year, one of the other corporations would show an interest in hiring him.
There was a lot of action on the street. More traffic than usual. They strolled past a group of thugs. One of the punks muttered something under his breath in George's direction. George wouldn't let it go and confronted the hoodlum.
"You got a problem?"
"Yeah, you." The punk laughed and looked to his friends for reinforcement. They nodded approvingly.
It wasn't an isolated occurrence. Scores of youth gangs roamed the streets at night, looking for crude fun and opportunity. They usually didn't bother the students. Tonight was different. Harry looked closely at the five young men. They were all dressed in black and wore their hair closely shaved to the skull. Tattoos of snakes and dragons adorned their arms. From their dilated eyes, Harry could tell they were flying on one or more of the many designer drugs commonly available on the streets. There was danger here.
"Well," George said, "what are you going to do about it?"
Oh no, Harry thought, here it comes.
The young man smiled and reached to his back pocket. George took a step backward and the punk drew out a stiletto. The other
Stunned, he sat in silence as the audience applauded each time a name was announced.
In short work, all twenty teams had been announced. In vain, Harry searched for his own name among those on the big screen, but Harry Irons was conspicuously absent.
"Now," Thanopolous said, "I will reveal the names of the twenty alternates." He read from his monitor, one name after another. Finally, far into the list, he spoke Harry's name.
Frankie and George wildly beat their hands together. Bart, plugged into a pleasure disk, seemed to pay no attention. It was a shallow victory for Harry. Alternate selections were throwaways, part-time employees whose employment with the Foundation ended when the teams successfully left Earth orbit. After all his hard work and years of preparation, Harry had failed.
He was so depressed he didn't notice when Bart took his leave. Frankie tugged at Harry's sleeve. "Better get to your meeting, Harry."
"What? Oh sure."
"We'll meet you tonight. Big party, right?"
"Sure, sure," Harry responded absently and pulled himself from his seat.
The meeting for the alternates was brief. Chances for an assignment were slim, but it did occasionally happen. In any case, the group of young, disappointed people were told their names would probably be picked up by another corporation sometime in the next year. It didn't do much to buoy their spirits. Afterwards, Harry went home.
He gave his mother the bad news. She took it calmly and was more hopeful than Harry. "Anything can happen, Harrison."
Harry wasn't as upbeat as his mother. After turning down food, he descended the steps to his basement room and stared at the ceiling until he heard Frankie and George entering the kitchen. From the tone of their voices, Harry could tell his friends were excited. An evening of Foundation perks awaited them, and the chance to rub elbows with the rich and powerful.
A short time later, the three bade farewell to Mrs. Irons and left the tenement.
Had they been selected for a survey team, they would have had the services of a private Foundation limousine, and been picked up outside their doors by a luxury aircar, then delivered to the top floor of the Braithwaite 99-story executive office building. But that was not to be. Instead of looking forward to a lucrative contract and a career with the Corporation, they were the same as they had been the day before: three guys without a solid future, looking for diversion, waiting for a public bus.
It wasn't supposed to be this way, Harry thought. He was supposed to be looking forward to training with his new team and preparing to travel to the stars. Now he had to find a job and hope that sometime in the next year, one of the other corporations would show an interest in hiring him.
There was a lot of action on the street. More traffic than usual. They strolled past a group of thugs. One of the punks muttered something under his breath in George's direction. George wouldn't let it go and confronted the hoodlum.
"You got a problem?"
"Yeah, you." The punk laughed and looked to his friends for reinforcement. They nodded approvingly.
It wasn't an isolated occurrence. Scores of youth gangs roamed the streets at night, looking for crude fun and opportunity. They usually didn't bother the students. Tonight was different. Harry looked closely at the five young men. They were all dressed in black and wore their hair closely shaved to the skull. Tattoos of snakes and dragons adorned their arms. From their dilated eyes, Harry could tell they were flying on one or more of the many designer drugs commonly available on the streets. There was danger here.
"Well," George said, "what are you going to do about it?"
Oh no, Harry thought, here it comes.
The young man smiled and reached to his back pocket. George took a step backward and the punk drew out a stiletto. The other
Similar Books
