I turned and looked back at the north, then south again. The poles were the holes in the hollow tires, opening into the worlds of the toruses.
“Can’t you sit still?” Morey asked.
I leaned forward and peered toward the ring of sunlight around the south pole. Bridges crossed the brightness. Just then we glided over a river of light, and I realized that this was the northern sun circle. A glowing band curved away left and right.
“A circle of windows with exterior mirrors,” Linda said, “which cast light inside …”
“She’s so thrilled,” Morey said.
I looked at him with disdain. “What’s the matter?”
“I’ll be fine.”
He still wasn’t, but he wasn’t going to admit it.
The landscape seemed to become more level as we neared the equator. Even inside a hollow ball, a diameter of sixteen kilometers will give some sensation of flatness when you’re not looking across a large distance; there’s no way to hide the fact that you’re inside a hollow ball, that people are going about their business at right angles to you, and overhead, but in time you do accept the rightness of it. It couldn’t be otherwise once you understood the conditions; the same thing is true of Earth.
The big lake glistened at our right as we rushed over a stream and entered the outer ring of the University. Here the research buildings were three-story drum shapes with curving window bands. Greenery flashed by, and we were among the classroom structures—two-floor saucers, single-level rectangles, domes, and ovals. Students hurried along walkways and sat on benches.
I caught sight of a large group carrying electronic signs. The scene went by fast, but I was able to read three of the displays: END DEATH ON MERCURY!
FREE THE MINERS!
EARTH’S SHAME!
“Did you see that?” I asked Morey.
He nodded and shrugged. “Politics. Some people never outgrow it.”
His answer irritated me. “But you know it’s a just cause. You’ve said so yourself.”
Another green area flashed past, and I saw the dorms—three-floor red brick-patterned drums with window bands like those in the research ring.
Morey nodded impatiently. “I know—but in the end it will be the application of
real
power that will bring the settlement. The words of the agreement will just be a rationalization. Those students out there are just the cheering section for one of the power sides.”
“I don’t care,” I said angrily. “What they say is right, isn’t it?”
“Sure, nothing can change the truth.”
“People should hear it publicly then.”
“Coming up,” Linda announced, “Bernal Hall, Clarke Hall, Hawking, Ley.” She spoke softly, as if something had distracted her. Morey’s comments had disturbed me. He was on the right side, but he didn’t seem to want to do much about it. Not that I had any idea of what to do, but it seemed to me that one had to be willing to try, at least.
“I have to lie down,” Morey said suddenly, the color fading from his face.
“We’ll be there in a minute. Hold on.”
“Bernal!” Linda shouted as we slowed to a stop. “Watch your step and good luck.”
I unbuckled Morey, then myself. “Come on.” I stood up.
Morey hoisted himself with a grunt, and we went to the forward exit, where we stepped out onto a narrow platform. The cars pulled away.
It was warm outside, reminding me of late spring in rural New York. We wandered down a shallow ramp and found ourselves on a walkway. A sign read: Bernal Hall
There was no other building at the end of the path, so this castle turret had to be it. As we approached I noticed that Morey and I had two shadows each, one from each Sun ring at the opposite ends of the world.
I stopped and looked up. Morey kept going. “Come on, Joe, I’ve got to get inside.”
“It’s like a big map,” I said excitedly. The air was crystal clear in the bright sunlight. The buildings, streams, and roadways on the other side of the sphere were very distinct. “It looks farther than I thought it would.”
“Come on,” Morey said impatiently.
Living all our lives on the outside of a ball so large that people once thought it was flat was no preparation for suddenly moving
inside
a small planet, where the Sun was two hoops of light and the stars were under your feet, on the other side of a gently curving surface. My mind understood this world, but my body had to get used to it day by day; my imagination had to invent the world all over again.
“I feel queasy,” Morey said, reminding me that his body was having a tougher time than mine. He took a deep breath and turned to go inside.
“You’ll get used to it,” I said, catching up to him. “I know you will.” Suddenly I was afraid that he would have to go back to Earth.
A side door opened for us, and we went in, stepping into a brightly lit hallway that curved away to the right.
“It should be on this floor,” I said as we counted off the numbers from 112 down. There was a sign on 108:
Joseph G. Sorby
Morey Green-Wolfe
I didn’t like the formal look the middle initial gave my name.
“Here’s us,” I said, pressing my palm against the lock ID.
The door slid open; lights and ventilation cut in as we stepped inside. Morey sat down on the bunk that stood against the left wall. He gulped air for a moment, then struggled to his feet and staggered to the door. It slid open, and he shuffled out toward the bathroom down the hall.
The phone on the right-hand desk buzzed. I sat down and thumbed the line open, wondering if this set was cued to my ID. Dad’s face appeared on the small screen, making me feel that I hadn’t gone very far from home at all.
“Well, you made it,” he said after the usual three second round-trip delay in the signal. “Good trip?”
“It was okay.”
“I should have come with you,” he said after a moment. “Why didn’t you tell me about the picnic for parents and students? You’ll go anyway, won’t you?”
That made me angry. It was easy for him to be sorry now. “It was
your
business to know,” I said, and waited.
“You’re right,” he said after the dead spot. “Got your money codes?”
I nodded. “Look, I’ve got to unpack, get sheets and stuff.”
“Don’t use more credit without telling me first. Call when you want, on me. Leave a message if there’s no answer.”
Yellow flowers dotted the lawn outside my window. Nearby dorms were chocolate cakes with silver windows for frosting.
Dad sniffed. I knew he was feeling guilty, but I didn’t care.
“How’s Morey?”
“A little sick, but he’ll get over it.”
“Will you come home for holidays, or should we come out there?”
“I don’t know yet.”
The delay seemed longer as I struggled to control my resentment.
“Glad to be out there?”
“Sure.”
“Well,” he said after the pause, “it seems right for you, and that’s important. I’m sure you’ll do well.”
Be glad you got what you wanted,
he was really saying,
but you’re on your own
.
I nodded, unable to say anything. Finally I forced a smile.
“Good luck, son,” he said, biting his lower lip. “Eva will call you in a few days.”
The picture went dark. I sat there, telling myself that I should have let him have it when it would have hurt the most, because he had called to make himself feel better. I got up after a while and went to look for Morey.
Mom would have wanted me to have a private bath, I thought as I came to the double doors and was let into a large square room with a dozen sinks, showers, and toilet stalls. She wouldn’t have liked the small phone screen either, but I didn’t care; I wouldn’t have to do any cleaning, so it was worth it.
“Joe?” Morey asked from the end stall. He wasn’t improving the atmosphere any. I almost had to hold my nose.
“What is it?”
“I’m still not feeling better.”
“You want a medic?” I’d never heard him sound so down.
“Maybe I’m imagining too much. My mind knows it’s not real gravity, so I keep thinking about the spin that holds me down.”
“Forget it.”
“I’m glad my parents aren’t here. Mom would say my tummy has the whoopsies and Dad would say, gee—this whole place spins, and Mom would suggest that maybe I shouldn’t stay at all …”
“Going to the picnic?” I asked.
“How can I?”
“I’ll keep you company. But not in here.”
I went out through the sliding doors and wandered back to the room. My lost bag was on my trunk. I checked the address label and saw that it had been changed to my new address—by Mom, probably. Unpacking would make an exciting afternoon, I thought, still feeling a bit angry and depressed. I wasn’t really here yet, I realized. I wanted to be here, but I was still back on Earth.
I sat down at my desk and examined the library link, noticing the portable screen for those who might like to work in out-of-the-way places. I gazed out the window at the hill that fell away to my right. The tall grass would be a great place to lie down and read. I wandered over to my bed and lay down, realizing that I hadn’t escaped anything; there would be new problems here, and the old ones would continue to visit, as long as there were phones and I was still Joe Sorby.
I would have to become someone else.
Silvery light filtered in through the window when I opened my eyes. Morey’s dark shape stood over me.
“What’s the time?”
“About midnight,” he said.
“Fell asleep,” I mumbled, sitting up slowly.
“They gave me something at the infirmary, so I went over to the picnic.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
“You looked so peaceful, like you needed it. You didn’t want to go anyway.”
“What was it like?”
“The university president spoke, telling us that more people from Earth should visit the Sunspace Settlements to promote better understanding of where the future lay for our civilization—off-planet. There was a demonstration for the miners on Mercury. It didn’t last long. A lot of students seem to be involved in the cause.” He sounded impressed and a bit uncertain.
I sat up on the edge of the bed and rubbed my eyes. “The trip tired me more than I thought.”
“You’re a bit sick from the changeover. People react differently, they said at the infirmary.”
“What’s that light outside?”
“The mirrors bring in moonlight same as the Sun.”
“I don’t remember falling asleep.”
“Okay now?”
“Sure.”
“Breathe deeply once in a while. I take it the other side of the room is mine.”
I nodded. “The phone’s coded to me on this side. I missed dinner.”
“It was at the picnic.”
“Maybe I’ll go back to sleep.”
“It’s a nice night. I’m going for a walk.” He gave a crazy laugh, like his usual self. He was obviously relieved to be well again. “It’s always a nice night here. How could it not be? They turn it on and off.” His dark shape moved toward the door.
“Morey?”
He stopped and turned around, but I couldn’t see his face. “What, my friend?” his dark shape asked.
“Are you glad to be here?”
“Now I am, after they fixed me up. Aren’t you?”
I was grateful he couldn’t see my face in the darkened room. “Sure. Just wanted to know.”
The door slid open as I lay down. He went out, and it whispered shut. I relaxed in the strange silence and thought of all the space and stars outside the shell—and dreamed I was down in the dorm basement, opening a trap door into the glowing universe outside. The dream was wrong, of course, because the stars were motionless; they should have been moving as Bernal rotated. I fell through the bottom of my new world and drifted away, breathing cold nothing as the naked Sun blistered my face until it looked like a bowl of oatmeal, and I was forced to keep telling people my name because they couldn’t recognize me.
Getting Settled
There were about fifty students in the dorm’s main lounge when Morey and I walked in the next morning. We were given a few once-over stares as we sat down in the back row of the circle of chairs. There was a guy wearing a turban in the front row, sitting next to a couple of slender African women. They towered over him, even sitting down. There was a Japanese kid in the second row who kept turning around and looking past me. Next to him sat a girl with a colorful kerchief over her head. She sat stiffly, as if afraid to look left or right. Suddenly I had the feeling of being trapped, and that nothing was going to be as I had imagined.
There was a loud group of kids at our left, dressed in multicolored metallic sheen shorts and sleeveless shirts. Then I saw Linda ten Eyck with them, and I knew why they sounded so confident; they were all from Bernal or the other settlements—the Sunflower Habitats at L-4 (that’s the other Libration Point, one of four such stable areas in the Moon’s orbit, equidistant from Earth and Moon), the Moon, Mars, maybe even the Asteroids. They were laughing and talking as if the rest of us didn’t exist.
A tall, deeply tanned man came in. There was some gray in his sandy hair, and even more in his beard.
“My name is Bill Turnbull,” he said as the chatter quieted, “and I’ll be your orientation adviser.” He gazed at us with calm gray eyes. “Most of you are physical science majors. That’s why you came here, and why you were accepted. You local students can study what you want because we have to take you, but that doesn’t mean you can coast.
Anyone
can flunk out, and all the programs are tough. A few major points to keep in mind. Do not spend all your time at your desk link, even though you can learn very quickly that way: You are expected to get to know your tutors and classmates.” He looked around at us carefully. “Personal growth suffers when you cut yourself off from the lively
connections
made when bright people get together. Use links for busy work, for catch up, to prepare for discussions with peers and superiors. The
real
goal of your work is not just to know a lot, but to be creative in your area, to contribute to its growth while growing up as a person. All work is for people in the end, even when we benefit ourselves individually.” He paused. “If we suspect abuses, we will place a limit on the use of links, and then they will shut down if overused. We’ve never had to do that.”