But I didn’t do anything. I don’t know why; maybe it was from riding herd on that wild bunch of galoots, the Yucca Patrol—Mr. Kinski says that anybody who can’t keep order without using his fists can’t be a patrol leader under him.
Anyhow I just walked around the end of the desk and tried to open the drawer. It was locked. I looked at them; they were both grinning, but I wasn’t. “I had an appointment for thirteen o’clock,” I said. “Since the doctor isn’t here, you can tell him I’ll phone for another appointment.” And I turned on my heel and left
I went home and told George about it. He just said he hoped I hadn’t hurt my chances.
I never did get another appointment. You know what? They weren’t clerks at all; they were psycho-metricians and there was a camera and a mike on me the whole time.
Finally George and I got notices saying that we were qualified and had been posted for the Mayflower, “subject to compliance with all requirements.”
That night I didn’t worry about ration points; I really set us out a feast.
There was a booklet of the requirements mentioned. “Satisfy all debts”—that didn’t worry me; aside from a half credit I owed Slats Keifer I didn’t have any. “Post an appearance bond”—George would take care of that “Conclude any action before any court of superior jurisdiction”—I had never been in court except the Court of Honor. There were a flock of other things, but George would handle them.
I found some fine print that worried me. “George,” I said, “It says here that emigration is limited to families with children.”
He looked up. “Well, aren’t we such a family? If you don’t mind being classified as a child.”
“Oh. I suppose so. I thought it meant a married couple and kids.”
“Don’t give it a thought.”
Privately I wondered if Dad knew what he was talking about.
We were busy with innoculations and blood typing and immunizations and I hardly got to school at all. When I wasn’t being stuck or being bled, I was sick with the last thing they had done to me. Finally we had to have our whole medical history tattooed on us—identity number, Rh factor, blood type, coag time, diseases you had had, natural immunities and inoculations. The girls and the women usually had it done in invisible ink that showed up only under infra-red light, or else they put it on the soles of their feet.
They asked me where I wanted it, the soles of my feet? I said no, I don’t want to be crippled up; I had too much to do. We compromised on putting it where I sit down and then I ate standing up for a couple of days. It seemed a good place, private anyhow. But I had to use a mirror to see it.
Time was getting short; we were supposed to be at Mojave Space Port on 26 June, just two weeks away. It was high time I was picking out what to take. The allowance was fifty-seven and six-tenths pounds per person and had not been announced until all our body weights had been taken.
The booklet had said, “Close your terrestrial affairs as if you were dying.” That’s easy to say. But when you die, you can’t take it with you, while here we could— fifty-seven-odd pounds of it.
The question was: what fifty-seven pounds?
My silkworms I turned over to the school biology lab and the same for the snakes. Duck wanted my aquarium but I wouldn’t let him; twice he’s had fish and twice he’s let them die. I split them between two fellows in the troop who already had fish. The birds I gave to Mrs. Fishbein on our deck. I didn’t have a cat or a dog; George says ninety floors up is no place to keep junior citizens—that’s what he calls them.
I was cleaning up the mess when George came in. “Well,” he says, “first time I’ve been able to come into your room without a gas mask.”
I skipped it; George talks like that. “I still don’t know what to do,” I said, pointing at the heap on my bed.