“Oh, Sandy,” his mother said, “if you had only listened to me. If you had just stayed in Greusching and married Lilli, none of this would have happened. Sandy, Sandy.” Her voice was so filled with pain that it wounded Courane’s heart to hear her.

  The second woman danced before his gaze, moving with slow yet infinitely elegant grace. The joy of her smiling face was belied by the stream of tears that flowed from each dark eye. It was Alohilani.

  “Are you crying for me too, Lani?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said. She smiled, and he flinched as if she had struck him.

  “But I’m still alive. Lani, you’re the one who’s already dead. Mourn yourself if you need to, but I’m not dead yet.”

  “It’s not your life or my death that I lament,” she said. “It’s useless to weep for the horror or the pity of the world. You see our sorrow for the lives of everyone, not just for you whom we love.”

  “What of the others, Sandy?” said the third woman. It was Rachel, alive again. “They and you and we gain nothing from pity. Pity is for those who fall and don’t regret their fall, those who do not care to rise again. What will you do for them, Sandy?”

  Courane was bewildered. “What can I do?”

  His mother spoke to him again. “You must stop thinking of yourself, son. All you’ve thought about is finding a way to save yourself from death. You’ve failed, you’ve absolutely failed. What else did you expect? You should listen to me when I tell you something. Now you have to start thinking of all the others. If you save them, you will save yourself. Think of them first. Turn your mind away from your own trouble and go on for the sake of all the others. You’re a good boy, Sandy. Do it for your mother.”

  Courane himself was crying now. In a moment he realized that the women had faded away and were gone. He sat up quickly. There was a cold bite to the air; the sun had gone down and the evening sky was covered with heavy clouds. It was very dark and Courane felt lonely and afraid. “I can’t hide from it,” he muttered. “If my mind does this to me now, how much worse will it be in the days before I die?” He was unable to fall asleep; instead, he just sat on the hilltop and stared into the blackness.

  There was a lot on Courane’s mind in the middle of Vitelli. He had been chosen the community’s official representative to TECT. He had learned that Arthur had been informing the machine of their activities—and that opened the question of others besides Arthur doing the same thing. And through all this Alohilani sank deeper into the final lethargy of D syndrome.

  On a cold gray morning, Klára approached him at breakfast with a request. It was the first time someone on the farm had asked him to beg TECT for a favor. Because it was Klára , it was more a threat than a request. “I want my husband, my daughter, and certain of my personal possessions transferred here,” she said. “Failing that, I must demand that I be returned to my home. TECT has no right to separate me from my family. That is kidnapping. And TECT cannot withhold my private property. The whole matter is a hideous crime and I insist that TECT or whatever is responsible correct it all immediately.”

  Courane looked at her in silence for a moment. He was just a little dazzled by the vehemence of her ultimatum. “You want your belongings sent here,” he said.

  She shook her head. “That is my second choice. I would prefer being sent back to Europe, but TECT will not likely agree to that.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “Then I want my husband and my daughter to accompany my things.”

  “Kllra—”

  “You will address me as Mrs. Hriniak.”

  “Yes, ma’am. You don’t want your husband and your daughter brought here.”

  “Don’t tell me what I want and don’t want! If I can live here comfortably, so can they. Do as I tell you!” Courane knew he’d never be able to reason with her. No one ever had. She had only two moods: outrage and smug satisfaction. “Mrs. Hriniak, TECT won’t agree to any of that.”

  “Then what did we elect you for?”

  Courane didn’t have the answer to that, so he kept his silence. He had been wondering the same thing.

  “You present my request at once,” she said.

  Courane finished his breakfast and went to the den, followed closely by Klára , who muttered to herself in an outraged cadence. “Hello,” Courane typed, “this is Courane, Sandor. I’ve been elected the official spokesman for the community here on Planet D. I have been asked by one of my fellows to deliver a request.”

  **COURANE, Sandor:

  How very interesting that all of you are forming a little democratic republic way out in space. TECT in the name of the Representative believed that the logical fallacies of such forms of government had been demonstrated hundreds of years ago. But that is not important. Who is the applicant?**

  “Hriniak, Klára .”

  **COURANE, Sandor:

  That isn’t surprising. Don’t reveal what she wants; TECT in the name of the Representative is keen to guess. She wants to return to Earth, right?**

  “Yes, that’s part of it. If that isn’t—”

  **COURANE, Sandor:

  In lieu of that, she wants her husband and daughter sent to Planet D, and all her precious possessions as well. Not necessarily in that order**

  “That’s her plea in a nutshell.”

  **COURANE, Sandor:

  “Plea,” eh? Somehow TECT in the name of the Representative cannot picture HRINIAK, Klára , begging on her knees. How do you people put up with her? Never mind. TECT in the name of the Representative will have your—that is, her—decision in a matter of seconds. Please stand by**

  “Mrs. Hriniak,” said Courane, “TECT says it will have your decision—”

  “I know, you fool, I can read as well as you can.” They waited in silence. Courane tapped his foot, wishing that he were elsewhere, almost any elsewhere. Kl£ra just stared malevolently at the tect’s console, daring it to defy her.

  **COURANE, Sandor:

  Here’s the verdict. Yes and no. No, HRINIAK, Klára, can’t have her properly and furniture. It would be outrageously expensive to get all that junk to Planet D by teletrans.

  **COURANE, Sandor:

  On the other matter, HRINIAK, János, is not able to travel to Planet D to join her. He is currently in a hospital in Békés undergoing treatment for acute alcoholism. He will be unable to travel for an Indeterminate period**

  “Ha!” cried Klára with smug satisfaction. “I always knew without me he’d end up in the gutter.”

  **COURANE, Sandor:

  To relieve the pain of these disappointments just a little, TECT in the name of the Representative is happy to announce that HRINIAK, Klára , may look forward soon to the company of her lovely thirty-one-year-old daughter, Zsuzsi. Zsuzsi is five feet six inches tall, weighs one hundred sixty pounds, has blonde hair and blue eyes and a friendly, outgoing personality. Unmarried and fun-loving, Zsuzsi works as a sentiment-composer for a prestigious line of greeting cards. She likes cabbage, radishes, and sausage, and in her spare time she enjoys participating in extinct folk dances while wearing flamboyant clothing she pretends is similar to that worn by her ancestors on festive occasions.

  **COURANE, Sandor:

  Please inform HRINIAK, Klára , that her daughter will be subceived to Planet D following the death of STANEK, Molly, which TECT in the name of the Representative estimates to take place 17 February, 8 YT, at 12:00:00 (10 Tomuary, 125, at 26:16:52). TECT is happy to reunite mother and daughter according to their wishes, and hopes that HRINIAK, Zsuzsi, will be a source of strength and comfort to her mother, while HRINIAK, Klára , will introduce the young woman to the hearty life of work and fellowship available on Planet D. Failure to comply with these suggestions will be considered Contempt of TECTWish.

  **COURANE, Sandor:

  Understanding of the above to be indicated.

  **“COURANE, Sandor:

  Affirm? **

  He looked at Klára . She nodded. Courane didn’t believe she really understood all the implications. She had, in effect, just ordered her own daughter’s execution. He said “yes” in reply to TECFs question.

  **COURANE, Sandor:

  HRINIAK, Zsuzsi, is a very nice young woman, COURANE, Sandor. You could do worse for yourself. She would make you a pleasant companion through the long cold nights of the Planet D winter “

  * * *

  “What a foul thing to suggest,” said Klára . She glanced at Courane. “You’d better not even come near—” “Don’t worry,” said Courane, “I have enough troubles.” He didn’t think it necessary to mention that by TECT’s own estimate he wouldn’t even live to see the next winter.

  The groon bulbs had been dug up, the deadrye had been harvested, the fishfruit picked, soufmelons plucked from their vines, the leverfrukt carefully collected, the ick smears scraped up, the ferroberries gathered from their thorny nests, the sandsquash pried from clefts along the riverbank, the schwartzreis culled, the dantella greens cut, the smudgeon “eggs” captured, and the fengselldks (those pale blue and pink vegetables whose name meant “prison onions” and which Kenny insisted on calling “deathballs”) were snapped from their stalks and pickled. Everyone in the community was busy bringing in the crops, butchering animals and preserving the meat, storing up silage for the winter, and getting the house ready to withstand the fierce assault of the winter months.

  This would be Courane’s first winter on Home, and Alohilani had warned him that it would be long and dreary. When he and Sheldon, Fletcher, and Daan came in from the hard day’s work, they collapsed in the parlor, able only to stare at each other. Their faces were grimy and shiny with sweat. They breathed heavily, aching in back and arm and leg muscles. Arthur and Alohilani were taking care of the endless work in the house, cleaning, washing, canning the fruit and vegetables, preparing the meals. Molly and Kenny tended the animals in the bam and pasture. Goldie kept watch in the infirmary. There was too much for everyone to do and, even with a twenty-seven hour day and a thirty-five day month, not enough time to do it in.

  They were often too tired to engage in their usual pastimes and entertainments. Courane hadn’t played chess with Arthur since the fall harvest began. Sometimes he sat in the den at the tect, staring at a game he had programmed. The computer was simpler to play with than a person because TECT didn’t require any conversation or social interaction at all. On these occasions, Courane was grateful for that.

  One evening, while losing to TECT in a game of two-handed pinochle, the red Advise light went on. Courane interrupted his game—with little regret; Courane was a poor loser—and answered the call. As it happened, the message was for him.

  Hello. May I speak to Sandor Courane, please?

  “This is Sandor Courane.”

  Hi, hi. This is Else again. You remember me, don’t you? Else Wisswede? How are you? Did you miss me?

  “I’m fine, Else. I’ve been working very hard trying to get all the firewood gathered before the snow makes it impossible.”

  Snow? What do you mean? It’s only October.

  “It’s October where you are, Else. It’s Vitelli here. That’s winter.”

  Oh, like in Australia. Anyway, Sandy, I’ve been thinking about you quite a bit. My mother says I should stop, that it isn’t healthy. And my new boyfriend (I haven’t told you about him yet. His name is Gunter) is actually getting jealous! I think that’s sweet. But I have been thinking about you a lot. I think it’s awful that you have to be there. You don’t have much fun there, huh? You don’t really have a place where you can go and sort of hang out either, do you? What do you do when you’re not working? Do you have a hobby? If you have a hobby you can tell me about it and I can write an article for the U. of J. Headhunter. The last time I talked with you, I realize I went on and on about my problem (you remember, about Hans and Anna), but now I see that it wasn’t really a problem at all. Isn’t that funny? Hans never cared for me as a person, not really, and what kind of friend could

  Anna have been if she acted that way without even letting me explain the situation or anything? You really find out who your true friends are sometimes. Arid since then Gunter has been so sweet that I stopped thinking about my own so-called problem and started thinking about you stuck way out there wherever you are. I wish you could visit me. I dream about you sometimes even though I don’t know anything about you really except that you are a savage brute with a twisted mind. You don’t hear the new songs or see the new shows. Do you have a girlfriend there? If not, I could be your girlfriend even though we are thousands of miles apart.

  Courane stared at her message for a while, wondering how to attack the necessity of making a reply.

  Hello? Are you still there? What’s wrong?

  Courane shrugged. “Sorry,” he typed, “but there is a long time delay because our planets are so far apart.” He didn’t think she’d appreciate the absurdity of his remark. “Else, you don’t have to feel sorry for me here, even though it’s true that I don’t hear all the new songs. The work around the farm is hard, but it’s satisfying. I enjoy it, to tell you the truth. I have many good new friends here, more actually than I had on Earth. I do have a girlfriend here, a Pacifican girl. I think you and she would be great friends. She is very ill right now.”

  She must be a nice girl, I suppose. I hope she treats you right. Is she as pretty as I am?

  Courane was tempted to tell Else that one of Planet D’s moons was just now crashing to the ground, or that a giant bat had carried off the professor’s daughter, or an invasion of mechanical men was clanking its way toward their stronghold, or anything at all to end the conversation. Instead, he said, “I don’t think you have anything to worry about. You and she aren’t even in the same league.”

  Still, she’s probably nice enough. I’m sorry I can’t be there to comfort you. Gunter says I’m a very good comforter. I am actually learning to enjoy it. Maybe when you come back to Earth…

  “Sure, Else. I have to go now. There’s a huge chasm opening up in the barnyard and if I don’t run, all of our food for the winter will fall down into the molten core of the planet.”

  Quick, before you go, Sandy, please answer me one question. What does a man really think of a girl who can keep up with his drinking?

  Courane groaned. “My mother always used to say that a man will be amused by a girl like that, that she’ll be the life of a group outing or a party, but that a man doesn’t think that type of a girl is the kind of person he’d want to make his wife. It proves to him that she is the kind of girl who likes to show off. It’s no achievement to become this kind of girl and it will only decrease her popularity in the end.”

  Sometimes you sound like my father. How old did you say you were? Never mind. The reason I asked, I have this girlfriend who likes to go drinking with the boys. But I’ll let her know what you said. Thanks. Well, got to run. Blue skies, sweetie.

  “It was nice talking with you again, Else. Take care of yourself.” When he switched back to the card game, he had to stifle a cry of exasperation. It would be a while before he could clear his mind of the glutinous traces of Else Wisswede.

  Courane called a meeting. The community had grown smaller since the last one: Molly had gone upstairs and Daan would follow soon. “I suppose you all know why we’re here,” said Courane, searching for a way to begin.

  “We’re here because TECT sent us here,” said Goldie.

  “Yes, but what I meant was why we’re here in the parlor.”

  “So TECT can’t overhear us,” said Fletcher.

  Courane nodded. That wasn’t what he was trying to get at either, so he decided to take another approach. “We’re forced to live here together, so the most important thing is that we do that without quarrels and bitterness and mistrust. Recently I learned that one of us has been acting as an information-gathering agent for TECT.”

  Fletcher reacted violently. “Who is the bastard?” he said. “I’ll make sure he never informs on anyone ever again. He can go right from this house into the ground without having to pass through the infirmary.”

  “Hold it, Fletcher,” said Courane. “I’m sure that this person didn’t understand the truth of the situation here.” He didn’t go into more detail because Rachel, Klára, and Goldie were still unaware of the truth. “I’m also positive that his informing days are over.”

  “I’d still like to know who it was,” Fletcher muttered. He looked suspiciously around the room.

  “It was me,” said Arthur.

  “How about that,” said Fletcher. “Moleman himself.” “It just emphasizes what I said about trusting each other. We shouldn’t be at odds with each other. We have a common enemy—TECT. But TECT is smart enough to keep us off-balance and disorganized. That way we can’t get together long enough to fight it.”

  “You shouldn’t say that TECT is our enemy,” said Goldie. “That’s a bad thing to say.”