"How do you mean, interested?"
"In going all the way out." Ed's face was pale. His mouth twitched nervously. "I thought maybe you'd like to come along and see how things are. It's a lot like Prox was, twenty-five years ago. It's good and clean out there. No cities."
Peter smiled.
Peter smiled.
"No reason." Peter stood up abruptly. "If we have to walk back to the Station we'd better start. Don't you think? It's getting late."
"Sure." Ed struggled to his feet. "Sure, but --"
"When are you going to be back in the Sol system again?"
"Back?" Ed followed after his son. Peter climbed up the hill toward the road. "Slow down, will you?"
Peter slowed down. Ed caught up with him.
"I don't know when I'll be back. I don't come here very often. No ties. Not since Jan and I separated. As a matter of fact I came here this time to --"
"This way." Peter started down the road.
Ed hurried along beside him, fastening his tie and putting his coat on, gasping for breath. "Peter, what do you say? You want to hop out to Sirius with me? Take a look? It's a nice place out there. We could work together. The two of us. If you want."
"But I already have my work."
"That stuff? That damn chemistry stuff?"
Peter smiled again.
Ed scowled, his face dark red. "Why are you smiling?" he demanded. His son did not answer. "What's the matter? What's so damn funny?"
"Nothing," Peter said. "Don't become excited. We have a long walk down." He increased his pace slightly, his supple body swinging in long, even strides. "It's getting late. We have to hurry."
Doctor Bish examined his wristwatch, pushing back his pinstriped coat sleeve. "I'm glad you're back."
"He sent the surface car away," Peter murmured. "We had to walk down the hill on foot."
It was dark outside. The Station lights were coming on automatically, along the rows of buildings and laboratories.
Doctor Bish rose from his desk. "Sign this, Peter. Bottom of this form."
Peter signed. "What is it?"
"Certifies you saw him in accord with the provisions of the law. We didn't try to obstruct you in any way."
Peter handed the paper back. Bish filed it away with the others. Peter moved toward the door of the doctor's office. "I'll go. Down to the cafeteria for dinner."
"You haven't eaten?"
"No."
Doctor Bish folded his arms, studying the boy. "Well?" he said. "What do you think of him? This is the first time you've seen your father. It must have been strange for you. You've been around us so much, in all your training and work."
"It was -- unusual."
"Did you gain any impressions? Was there anything you particularly noticed?"
"He was very emotional. There was a distinct bias through everything he said and did. A distortion present, virtually uniform."
"Anything else?"
Peter hesitated, lingering at the door. He broke into a smile. "One other thing."
"What was it?"
"I noticed --" Peter laughed. "I noticed a distinct odor about him. A constant pungent smell, all the time I was with him."
"I'm afraid that's true of all of them," Doctor Bish said. "Certain skin glands. Waste products thrown off from the blood. You'll get used to it, after you've been around them more."
"Do I have to be around them?"
"They're your own race. How else can you work with them? Your whole training is designed with that in mind. When we've taught you all we can, then you will --"
"They're your own race. How else can you work with them? Your whole training is designed with that in mind. When we've taught you all we can, then you will --"
"Can you identify it now?"
Peter reflected. He thought hard, concentrating deeply. His small face wrinkled up. Doctor Bish waited patiently by his desk, arms folded. The automatic heating system clicked on for the night, warming the room with a soft glow that drifted gently around them.
"I know!" Peter exclaimed suddenly.
"What was it?"
"The animals in the biology lab. It was the same smell. The same smell as the experimental animals."
They glanced at each other, the robot doctor and the promising young boy. Both of them smiled, a secret, private smile. A smile of complete understanding.
"I believe I know what you mean," Doctor Bish said. "In fact, I know exactly what you mean."
Some Kinds of Life
"Joan, for heaven's sake!"
Joan Clarke caught the irritation in her husband's voice, even through the wall-speaker. She left her chair by the vidscreen and hurried into the bedroom. Bob was rooting furiously around in the closet, pulling down coats and suits and tossing them on the bed. His face was flushed with exasperation.
"What are you looking for?"
"My uniform. Where is it? Isn't it here?"
"Of course. Let me look."
Bob got sullenly out of the way. Joan pushed past him and clicked on the automatic sorter. Suits bobbed by in quick succession, parading for her inspection.
It was early morning, about nine o'clock. The sky was bright blue. Not a single cloud was visible. A warm spring day, late in April. The ground outside the house was damp and black from the rains of the day before. Green shoots were already beginning to poke their way up through the steaming earth. The sidewalk was dark with moisture. Wide lawns glittered in the sparkling sunlight.
"Here it is." Joan turned off the sorter. The uniform dropped into her arms and she carried it over to her husband. "Now next time don't get so upset."
"Thanks." Bob grinned, embarrassed. He patted the coat. "But look, it's all creased. I thought you were going to have the darn thing cleaned."
"It'll be all right." Joan started up the bed-maker. The bed-maker smoothed out the sheets and blankets, folding them in place. The spread settled carefully around the pillows. "After you've had it on awhile it'll look just lovely. Bob, you're the fussiest man I know."
"Sorry, honey," Bob murmured.
"What's wrong?" Joan came up to him and put her hand on his broad shoulder. "Are you worried about something?"
"No."
"Tell me."
Bob began to unfasten his uniform. "It's nothing important. I didn't want to bother you. Erickson called me at work yesterday to tell me my group is up again. Seems they're calling two groups at once now. I thought I wouldn't get jerked out for another six months."
"Oh, Bob! Why didn't you tell me?"
"Erickson and I talked a long time. 'For God's sake!' I told him. 'I was just up.' 'I know that, Bob,' he said, 'I'm sorry as hell about it but there's nothing I can do. We're all in the same boat. Anyhow, it won't last long. Might as well get it over with. It's the Martian situation. They're all hot and bothered about it.' That's what he said. He was nice about it. Erickson's a pretty good guy for a Sector Organizer."
"Erickson and I talked a long time. 'For God's sake!' I told him. 'I was just up.' 'I know that, Bob,' he said, 'I'm sorry as hell about it but there's nothing I can do. We're all in the same boat. Anyhow, it won't last long. Might as well get it over with. It's the Martian situation. They're all hot and bothered about it.' That's what he said. He was nice about it. Erickson's a pretty good guy for a Sector Organizer."
Bob looked at his watch. "I have to get down to the field by noon. Gives me three hours."
"When will you be back?"
"Oh, I should be back in a couple of days -- if everything goes all right. You know how these things are. It varies. Remember last October when I was gone a whole week? But that's unusual. They rotate the groups so fast now you're practically back before you start."
Tommy came strolling in from the kitchen. "What's up, Dad?" He noticed the uniform. "Say, your group up again?"
"That's right."
Tommy grinned from ear to ear, a delighted teenage grin. "You going to get in on the Martian business? I was following it over the vidscreen. Those Martians look like a bunch of dry weeds tied together in a bundle. You guys sure ought to be able to blow them apart."