After about twenty minutes, the door opened and a young woman entered. The clerk shot his harried look at her and asked her name. “Stone,” she said. Murray watched her with more interest. This was the girl whom the Representative and TECT had picked to be his wife.
“You’re with Rose, over there,” said the clerk. “The two of you get at the back of the line.”
Murray stood and met her at the end of the line. He smiled hesitantly. “I’m Murray Rose,” he said.
She sighed. “Hello,” she said. There didn’t seem to be anything else to say, so they waited in silence. The marriage routine was very short, being merely a few questions concerning data updates, new addresses, future plans, and so on, and then the bride and groom’s presentation of positive identification.
When they had satisfied the clerk’s impersonal curiosity, he waved them away. “Next,” he said wearily.
“Is that all?” asked Murray later, as they searched for the way out of the building. “No official congratulations or anything?”
“What do you want?” asked Sharon. “A national yontif?”
“I don’t know,” said Murray. “I guess I’m more sentimental than I should be.”
“So,” said Sharon, “we’re eppes married. How many kids do we want?” She laughed, and Murray looked at her, bewildered; then he laughed.
“It is a little strange. What do we do now? You want to tell me all about yourself?”
“No. We have years for that. Where do you live?”
Murray paused briefly. “Well, see, it’s like this. I live on another planet.”
Sharon stopped short. “What?” she cried.
“I did pretty well in school. After the Twelfth-year Test they gave me this planet. I have a small farm. It’s a lot of work, but it’s very nice. I think you’ll like it.”
“Nu! You’re Jewish, right?”
Murray shrugged. “Sort of,” he said. “Nobody in my family really practiced at it.”
“Still,” said Sharon bitterly. “That’s the way the Representatives work it, you know. If they find a smart Jew, they figure some way of getting him out of circulation. They’ve bought you out. You won’t make any trouble for them wherever it is you live.”
“That’s politics,” said Murray. “I don’t believe in politics. At least, not on my wedding day.”
“Yes, but I do,” said Sharon. “Man, they really pulled a good one this time. They took care of the both of us in one shot.”
They walked some more, at last finding the door out of the Hall of Adjustments. “Where to?” asked Murray.
“My folks live in San Diego,” said Sharon. “I don’t know anybody in this town.”
“Maybe we could visit my parents. That would surprise them.”
Murray’s parents were surprised. “I thought you were off on some weird star or something,” said his father.
“I was brought back. The Representative ordered me. I got married this afternoon.”
“Married!” cried Murray’s mother. “Is this her? Your wife, I mean?”
“Yes; this is Sharon. Sharon, these are my parents.” The four of them talked for a while, and then Murray excused himself to go to sleep. As he left, his parents and Sharon were discussing plans for a wedding reception. Murray’s mother was already on the phone, calling relatives.
It was evening when Murray awoke. Sharon and his parents were eating dinner. They greeted him when he came into the kitchen. “Sit down, son,” said Murray’s father. “I want to hear all about this place you live on.”
“I sent you a letter a while ago,” said Murray. “Didn’t you ever get it?”
“No,” said his mother. “But that’s the post office for you.”
“I named the planet after Grandpa Zalman.”
There was a long pause. “Oh,” said Murray’s father. “What do you do for a living these days?”
Murray sighed. “I farm,” he said. “I have some fields and some livestock. It’s good, honest, hard work. I like it.”
“What do you do the rest of the time?” asked his mother. “You don’t go into town and fool around, do you? Sharon, you’ll have to watch him, I know. He’s at that age now. You’ll see.” The two women exchanged smiles, and Murray’s father slapped his son’s shoulder.
“There isn’t any town,” said Murray. “I’m the only one there.”
“How far away are your neighbors, then?” asked his father.
“No neighbors. I’m the only one on the whole world.”
Murray’s mother frowned. “That’s stupid, Murray,” she said. Sharon said nothing, but carried her plate to the sink. There was another silence.
“There’s going to be a party tomorrow, Murray,” said Sharon at last. “Your mother called all your old friends, too.”
“Great,” he said. “I’ve been wondering what happened to them all.”
The next afternoon Sharon, Murray, and his parents arrived at the Gutrune Kaemmer Jewish Community Center; the main hall was filling with Murray’s relatives and friends. It had been hastily decorated; a photographer from the local newstape took pictures, for Murray’s Test scores and his unique award had made him a celebrity in the neighborhood. Murray smiled and shook hands with everyone, and tried to introduce his new wife; he found to his dismay that he had trouble remembering the names of even some of the nearest relatives and closest friends. Finally, he was able to get away from the crowd with Billy Corman, his best friend from school, and Sharon.
“Things have really changed,” said Corman.
“I see already,” said Murray. “What happened to the big whatchamacallit—”
“Mogen David,” said Sharon quietly.
“Yeah,” said Murray. “They used to have it hanging on the wall there. A big, heavy old stainless steel thing.”
“I don’t know,” said Corman. “Some building inspector was checking on the wiring in the new wing, and decided they needed some kind of connections. I think they had to take down some of the paneling, right where the Star was. When the workmen left, they forgot to put it back. I guess the Center just never got around to it.”
“Very shrewd,” said Sharon. “They must send those inspectors to special school to learn that kind of thing.”
“Huh?” said Corman.
“I think my bride here is a radical,” said Murray. “A paranoid radical.”
Corman looked embarrassed. “Those are the worst kind,” he said, straining to make a joke. No one acknowledged it.
Murray and Sharon said goodbye to the friends and relatives soon thereafter; they had to be back at the TELETRANS Substation by five o’clock that evening. Murray’s parents wished them luck, and Murray’s mother kissed Sharon and cried. Everyone shouted their farewells, and Murray escorted his wife from the Center; they got a cab almost immediately, went straight to the Substation, and soon had signed in at the TECT desk. The yawning attendant indicated the portal, and Murray stepped through. A few seconds later Sharon joined him in the gently waving grasses of Zalman. It was only a few hours after dawn on his planet.
“For a sky, that’s a pretty strange color,” said Sharon. She was pushing the tall grass away from her, but the turquoise stalks swept back and brushed her face. She frowned in annoyance.
“I guess you’ll have to get used to it,” said Murray. “I have. Come on; you can see the house. I want to check the livestock.”
“What do you have?”
“They’re not earth animals. You’ll have to be prepared.”
“Look, Murray, this isn’t my idea. If I don’t feel up to playing the courageous chalutz, I won’t. Who knows? You may have gotten a real bad bargain. What if I go crazy?”
“It’s really a good farm,” said Murray. “And now there won’t be as much work.”