The Sending Booth

CHAPTER 1

THE NOSE OF the craft sliced through the thick fog. Its sleek hull glistened as it shot past yet another low mountain range. On-board sensors were guiding it to the plains that lay just ahead.

Skids lowered from beneath the extended winglets, as did brake panels from trailing edges of those wings. The ship was now parallel to the ground beneath it as drag chutes deployed, irreversibly committing the vessel to the computer-selected landing area for the craft’s final touch-down. Too late for further flight corrections, the skids ground against the hard rock of the plain as the ship finally made contact but could not reduce the craft’s speed enough to miss a suddenly looming rocky mound just to the left of its path. Its wing tip sheared off as it struck the rocks, violently spinning the ship into left-turning circles, until it finally broke apart and came to rest in a cloud of dust.

There was no explosion and there was no fire; just the sound of the fierce winds roaring across the planet’s surface.

Flashing panel lights on the flight deck messaged IMPACT. It was a bit too late for that warning though, or else too early. Eyes that might have read the message were still closed.

No one had been at the controls of the ship as it came in for the landing; its lone, space-suited passenger lay on a couch, totally encased within a transparent tube. Straps securely held the figure to the cushioned frame, preventing it from being thrown around the cabin during the crash. Circuits were still functioning, sending their pulses and bits of vital data to that couch and to the figure lying there, where life was still being offered.

The tube moved! It rotated clockwise, exposing its opening edge, as it slid around and under the couch. Now other devices within could also be clearly seen.

There was a myriad of tubes coming up from the couch and entering the spacesuit of the yet-still figure. Many of these tubes had been contracting and expanding for a very long time, massaging the muscles of the being. Other tubes had metered in the complex combination of gases that had kept the body in its deep-sleep condition. Still more tubes had provided readouts of the condition of the body, for the computer to add this or that, to keep it in its proper suspended animation. Tubes had controlled the coolant that had reduced the body’s temperature; tubes had even admitted nourishment and cleansing solutions and had removed waste products, what little there had been. Bubbles could be seen dancing through transparent tubes, while the opaque ones hid their work from sight.

Now their work was finished and all these complex systems were shutting down, one by one as the tube completed its revolution. Yet, the still figure did not move but he opened his eyes!

As the fog was leaving his brain, he began to think again. He knew that he felt cold and therefore was still alive. He could also feel the ache of returning muscles that had lain inactive for too long. As his senses slowly returned, he realized that the light was also hurting his eyes, even though his glare visor was in place. They had told him that he had to allow time for his eyes to adjust to the glare, so he knew they would. As they slowly focused on what was left of the top of the ship’s superstructure, outside the bubble of acrylic that surrounded the bridge, he realized that his ship had broken apart. The absence of movement also told him that he had landed somewhere, but where? Had he made it to Unik 08?

He had not yet tried to move his body. Could he? He must find out. Gathering his returning strength, he slowly lifted first one arm and then the other. They moved, but felt like two lead weights. He could feel the wiggling of the fingers of his hand. Ever so slowly, those fingers walked across his chest until he was able to grasp the straps that secured him to the couch. Good, he thought, as he loosened the clasp, allowing the straps to fall to the floor on either side of him.

He could feel his heart pounding within his chest as he rested for just a brief moment before trying to move his body. Oh, how his muscles ached, he thought as he then slowly forced himself into an upright position. He believed he could still feel the throb of fluids within his inner ear, being coaxed back to their normally endless swirling. He knew he was coming back to life okay again as the dizziness slowly left him, but as he looked around at his broken ship, the sight wasn’t the least bit encouraging.

Everything was in shambles. The instrument cluster was no longer counting off the vital ship functions; its dials, gauges and needles were smashed beyond repair. Little matter, he thought, since there was no plan to leave the planet anyhow, at least not in this broken ship anyway. His knew that his spacesuit was keeping him alive for the present, and he had at least an Earth-day’s time to complete his work, if that was possible. Only then would he know if the trip had been worth the risk.

But what of the cargo? Had it survived the crash too, or had he wasted so many years on a useless flight to nowhere? He would find out soon enough.

Unplugging his suit from the umbilical tubes, he heard the welcome hiss of gasses stop, confirming that his suit had sealed itself, preserving the pressure and oxygen supply within it. Then the silence within the cabin hit him; everything was so quiet, with the distant sound of rushing wind buffeting the outside of the craft just barely audible.

Getting back to business after marveling at the silence for a moment longer, he exercised his arms, and now slowly added the movement of his legs to the equation. It was a miracle that his deep-sleep couch had survived the crash landing at all, let alone having kept him alive for the past century. As he thought about his sore muscles returning to active life, he now heard a clicking sound; that meant the radiation counter was still functioning. In fact, the high count had thrown it way off its scale.

Swell, he muttered. If I’m still on this planet 24 hours from now, the sound will be falling on my deaf, dead ears.

He stood up on wobbly feet. Even so, it felt good having a planet’s gravity helping to return the remainder of his senses to Earth-normal again. Wow, I better take it easy for a few seconds, he said aloud as he moved very slowly through the debris, testing his balance. Becoming more confident with each step though, he moved toward the airlock that had to still be functioning.

Ah, that’s more like it, he smiled as he confirmed the lock sensors were providing their appropriate readouts of the planet’s vitals. As predicted by Earth scientists before his departure, the gloomy data proved that he was immersed in a high concentration of methane and ammonia, with a complete absence of oxygen or nitrogen. Lucky, he thought, because if oxygen had been present, his craft would have gone up in a ball of fire upon crashing. No oxygen, no combustion, and no human way to walk the surface of this hellish planet without a protective spacesuit.

Looking out of the craft’s broken shell, he realized the dark blue, swirling mists had reduced his visibility to just a few hundred feet. Nevertheless, two suns glimmered through the mists, and his grin became broader. Before Jon had left on this journey, laser probes from Earth had promised a rocky, barren terrain composed of highly radioactive ores. Two suns, the methane swirls…it had all come together. I made it dad, he said to himself in awe. I made it to Unik 08 after all.

He thought back to the beginning of his flight, remembering every detail as if it had just happened yesterday, which for him, it had.

JON RYAN HAD BEEN SELECTED from the cream of the astronaut teams. The fact that his scientist father had invented the Ryan method of sending may have given him an edge, but he had really earned the glory of one of the first flights on his own.

What a perfect day for a launch, Jon mumbled to himself. The weather’s perfect; it’s bright and clear, and there’s almost no wind.

Representatives of all the world’s countries were on hand for the launch, creating a rather festive occasion. He had been photographed and interviewed at every stage of the launch preps; they couldn’t get enough of him, nor he enough of them. But when he began suiting up, they had to settle for pictures through the glass of his clean room. Scientists in their usual white garb swarmed all over him, making certain that he and his spacesuit were ready for the challenges of many, many years in space. Jon had little to do as they tested and probed; he just relished the attention he was getting. After all, he was one of only a handful of astronauts who would be heading out to the four corners of the known universe in their quest for fuel to feed an ever-growing world appetite for it.

But now, cheers broke out as word was passed around that he was ready to go. Viewers the world over were at their screens, knowing full well the great investment that each of them had in his flight. If Jon or one of the others made it, their children would have enough fuel to power their lives for eons to come. If all of the flights failed, they would be watching the slow, painful end of their civilization.

As Jon entered the ship, workers helped him stow the portable air conditioner and oxygen supply, and got him settled down into his launch seat.

Gotta keep my mind clear, he muttered under his breath. I’ve only got about a million bits of data to remember. No big deal.

Failure was not an option, he knew. Once his craft rocketed up from Earth, slicing up through the atmosphere on its way out into the inky black void of space, it would be up to him and his craft, alone.

The last cracks of light danced through the hatch opening as it was sealed into place. Now he really felt alone, with just the instruments, and the voices of Control and the rest of the world, all of them watching him go through his countdown checklist. It was too good to be true; no holds, everything was checking out.

His craft was switched to internal control, and the gantry was slowly inching way from the outside hull of the spaceship, when a booming This is Control came through the sound system. T minus 2 minutes and counting. His mind roamed back to the months of planning that would culminate with his launch.

It’s about to pay off, in a hundred years or so, he chuckled.

T minus 1 minute and counting.

He readied himself for the awful acceleration that would soon be upon him. He had been on several earlier space flights and knew what to expect. But each trip was still a new experience, and one to be remembered.

I’ve got faith in you baby, he said as he patted the control console in front of him. There was no lack of confidence in his craft, the technicians, nor in himself to pull it all off. Control workers could detect a slight increase in his body systems, but they were amazed by the coolness he was exhibiting.

T minus 10 seconds and counting.

He listened to the steady oxygen hiss as it entered his spacesuit.

T minus 9 seconds and counting.

He glanced at the main launch switches. They were armed.

T minus 8 seconds and counting.

He scanned the rows of beautiful green panel lights.

T minus 7 seconds and counting.

He squirmed as much as the straps of his seat allowed.

T minus 6 seconds and counting.

He thought of all the friends and relatives he would never see again.

T minus 5 seconds and counting. We have ignition!

He felt the craft shudder just a bit as the huge engines below roared into life. He could see the face of the controller on his screen. Atta boy! Jon exclaimed when he saw that man give him the thumbs up go signal.

T minus 4 seconds and counting.

He didn’t realize he had just taken a very deep breath.

T minus 3 seconds and counting.

He steeled himself; he couldn’t help it.

T minus 2 seconds and counting.

A quick prayer shot through his mind.

T minus 1 second and counting.

He waited for the rush.

We have lift-off. Godspeed, Jon Ryan.

Millions of horses strained at their reins as he felt the craft lifting from its pad. He could sense the moan of the ship’s skin as acceleration overtook it. Familiar vibrations of the monster followed quickly as the slender tube rose on its massive tail of fire and flame. He was on his way.

He still had a little bit to do as the controllers on Earth guided the ship through its stage separations and eased it into Earth orbit. With engine shutdown as planned, Jon was ready for the next critical step. After releasing the restraints that had confined him during the launch, and then floating up in a weightless state, he maneuvered himself over to the deep-sleep couch. I’m ready world, he shouted as he prepared for the longest sleep of his life while on the way to a rendezvous with an alien planet.

He pulled himself down onto the couch and secured its straps across his legs and chest. With his yet-free arms, he removed the umbilical bundle of tubes from its receptacle. Now, if I’m lucky, the guys back in the lab gave me a matching pair of connectors, he mused aloud, and before plugging it into his suit, he spoke his final message to Control.

Everything is going perfectly, Jon told them. My ship is in stable orbit, and I’ve switched the controls to auto. After a moment, he couldn’t help but also quip, and now I’m about ready to take my short nap.

Good show, came the reply. Godspeed. We’ll never meet again, but you know we wish you a successful flight. We’ll do our final part, blasting you out of orbit, once you’ve gone under. Again, good luck and goodbye.

A few final switch selections done with, Jon plugged the tube bundle into his suit, lay back in the cushiony couch, and laid his arms down into their restraints. He heard them click in and confirm that he was secured. Now if I can just reach that safety switch with my finger…., ah, got it. All I have to do now is flip that baby and let the cold come pouring in. Let me think, did I pay all my bills this month? He laughed because he knew that if he hadn’t, no one would be coming after him to collect.

I’m outta here, he said as his gloved hand pushed the final switch and lit its green light. As the tube began to revolve around him, sealing him inside, he could feel the cold flowing throughout his suit.

THE CLICKING SOUND OF THE radiation counter brought him back to the present and warned him that he had wasted enough time; his work was cut out for him. He picked his way carefully back to the cargo hold. It seems impossible that my precious cargo could have survived the crash landing, but I made it; maybe my luck will hold out just a bit longer. He slid back the heavy door and entered the hold.

Boxes and tubes, bags and litter were scattered all over as he groped through the darkened interior of the hull. Pretty intact, he thought as his found his flashlight and illuminated the three drab-looking chambers that meant life or death to him and to all the citizens of the world.

I wonder if the Earth is still out there, he mumbled to himself as he investigated the chambers’ conditions. Well, let’s see… scrub booth number one. Wow….. It looks so bad that I won‘t even consider it in the running, he spoke. Number two doesn’t look too bad; maybe I can use it for parts to fix number three if I need to. He was pleasantly surprised however, when he looked at the third booth.

Will you look at that? Not a scratch on you. You look like a booth I can really work with, but he wouldn’t know any more until he began to energize it. That will take some time, he thought to himself, as the clicking reminded him that what time he had left was limited. He knew his body could only absorb so much radiation before it would kill him. Let’s see if your built-in power supply made it too, he told it as he clicked each of its switches on.

The cluster of lights glowed with life as he did so. Remembering the sequence he must follow to make the chamber work, he proceeded to activate more and more circuits. The rows of green lights told their story as they glowed to life, one by one. Jon could now hear the hum of the chamber as it was coming to life too. Five more circuits were up and running, their indicators sending out shafts of light that eerily pierced the mists within the ship. Damn, this clumsy spacesuit isn’t doing anything to help speed up my tasks; it’s all taking too much time, he mumbled.

He slipped in module boards, and the final three circuits sprang to life--except circuit 28! Its red DEFECT light flashed on. Son of a bitch! I thought it was going too well. Saliva dried in his mouth as he probed for an answer. No way is my luck going to run out now. Not on this trip it isn’t, he shouted. Wait a minute. A slight wisp of smoke caught his eye. Somehow a wire had been severed by something sharp during the crash landing. Hah! I knew I’d find you. If I re-connect you, you’d better not let me down. I need you to work, he told the wire.

A certain giddiness and sense of accomplishment swept through him as the re-connected wire steadied the pulsing light. Only now, the sound of a buzzer jolted him back to full alertness. Damn, if it isn’t one thing it’s another. Now my oxygen tank is yelling at me to replace it, he muttered. This is not the time to be running out of air, he spoke as he grabbed another tank and swapped it out for the exhausted one. Okay, now let’s check out the sender circuits. He smiled as he confirmed that all circuits were functioning. It would work--he knew it. It was almost over, he thought.

Even though there was scant data written in it, Jon took his log to the chamber and placed the book on its seat. He sealed the door, threw the SEND switch and stepped back, uncertain of what would happen---or what to expect next.

What did happen was that the log book vanished from the seat! Had it gone true to its target, he wondered, or was the book now lost somewhere in the vast space he had just rocketed through? He waited; there was little else he could do except listen to the clicking radiation counter, to the hiss of the oxygen being metered into his suit, and to his heart pounding. Then the horn sounded. IT HAD WORKED!

Inside the chamber was just a sheet of paper where the log book had been. On it were the words, Well done, Jon. Your de-contamination chamber is ready and waiting, he read. Now switch your chamber to Auto 2, and stand by to receive ABEX. Sending in one minute. Now that’s more like it, he thought.

Jon felt somewhat weak in the knees, but did as the note had instructed him to do. He had just a short wait after switching the chamber to the Auto 2 setting, before the sweet sound of the horn came once again. After opening the chamber, for the first time in his life he was looking at what they called ABEX.

He learned later that ABEX wasn’t its technical name, just a contracted nickname that the guys in the lab had made up, for Automated Being Experimental. Jon studied the beautiful creation while talking to it. You must be about a six footer, obviously masculine in design; a machine with no clothes, he told it. The ABEX just sat there though.

ABEX had not yet been built when Jon left Earth on his pioneer voyage, but his father had assured him that such technology would catch up to him during his long space journey, and that ABEX would be ready when he was. Thanks for keeping your promise, dad. I love you, Jon said as he patted the device.

Further examination of Dr. Ryan’s dream impressed Jon. Its slick design, its white, pliable skin with muscular body, seemed almost perfect for its planned work; a humanoid machine capable of brute strength, yet one not requiring air to breathe nor food to keep it functioning. Let’s see how heavy you are, he said as he lifted the ABEX from its seat; it weighed almost nothing. As he replaced it on the seat of the chamber, he guessed the best part would be that radiation would not affect it. Perfect to harvest the ore of this planet, he thought.

Almost as fast as he closed the chamber door again, the horn now sounded the arrival of Medic Clemens’ essence into the ABEX body. The medic was also a space pioneer now too, since Ryan’s flight had been the only successful one to date. Clemens now had the opportunity to study ABEX firsthand. He stood up and moved from the chamber with sure, steady steps. He looked over his new form; it wore well on him, creating no arm or leg movement problems, or in bending or twisting its torso. Vision through its computer eyes was excellent, and he knew its built-in power supply would keep ABEX working for well over a month at a time.

Jon could control his emotions no longer, although very little time had elapsed since the arrival of Clemens. It’s really a pleasure to meet up with you ABEX, whomever you are, he said, embracing it while reveling in the contact with anything even close to human after his voyage.

Clemens, in turn, congratulated Ryan for completing his mission. Your first contact with this distant planet will open the door for more flights to other solar systems. Your father planned well when he designed two ABEX systems to handle all of our needs, he explained. When I came through space, when my essence left Earth and materialized into this ABEX body, we proved that one of his systems worked. In just a few moments, when your entire body is returned to Earth, you’ll prove out his second system--the one we’d use to colonize planets that are more hospitable to our life forms than this one.

You’ll excuse me, Jon said, but I know all about what my father was designing. I don’t really want to hear about future plans either. All I want to do right now, is to return to Mother Earth, get away from this poisonous planet, and catch up with lost time. Nothing else.

I apologize for being so inconsiderate of you and all you’ve been through, Clemens told him. Let me help you into the sending booth, please. After making sure that Jon was safely seated in the booth, Clemens then set the proper dials for a whole body send and switched on the booth’s secondary power circuits. Jon disappeared from Unik 08. He opened his eyes, for the second time that day, to a world he had never seen.

CHAPTER 2:

JON WAS SCANNED, probed, tested and de-contaminated. Aside from absorbing so much radiation, nothing seriously wrong was found with him--at least, nothing that present day medics couldn’t easily cure. He was given time to eat, rest and sleep.

You know Doc, it’s funny that after all those years asleep in space, that I’d ever want to sleep more; but my trip really tested my strength and reserves to the maximum, I guess. It was explained to him that the old term Doctor, went out with the old and now the new term was Medic.

You’ll also notice that many of your other familiar words are still around though, but in shortened form.

For instance? Jon asked.

Words like temperature became temp, kitchen became kitch, closet shortened to clos, and so on. Jon told them that he’d try to remember that in the future.

His biggest problem was that he was kept under constant guard. He knew this was being done for his own protection, that being brought forward in time could be too much for any man to digest too quickly, but it still rankled him. They eased his discomfort by stocking his room with his personal belongings from long ago; at least, those items that had withstood the test of time. Some of them had deteriorated, which graphically proved to Jon how much time had passed him by.

Each day, more and more history was taught to him, as fast as his brain could accept it. All of the serious medical ills have been conquered, except for what they called the common cold, the medic explained, which is still with us.

Roger Stewart, one of his tutors, had droned on and on about the world body having outlawed war. It’s been over 50 years since the last serious outbreak. Oil, as predicted, has run out--and with it, the pollution it had caused. You’ll be interested in knowing that atomic fission has also come and gone, replaced with fusion processes that now cover most of the world’s power needs, supplemented with solar, wind and fuel cell devices, of course. The ore that will soon be coming from your Unik 08 trip will keep those fusion systems operating for lifetimes yet to come, he explained.

Jon was told that all the major cities of the world were now electronically domed over with new force field technology.

Can you still see the sun and the stars? Jon wanted to know.

Oh yes, Mr. Ryan, Kenneth, another of his tutors answered. You can see clearly through the Dome, and there’s a special treat for you too. When the real sun sets in the west, an artificial sun of diminished intensity rises in the east.

He learned that temps inside the Domes remained a constant 70 degrees Fahrenheit, with gentle breezes artificially added. Rain was programmed now--once a week, from 1:00 to 4:00 a.m. on Monday morning. Normal rain storms still occurred outside the Dome and could be watched by those inside, but none of the elements could penetrate the protective shield of the Domes.

Since vehicles of this age no longer ride on wheels, but instead on cushions of air, Kenneth went on, concrete roads have been dozed away too, replaced with growing, green pathways. Our vehicles are called ‘lifts,’ and are powered by a combination of solar and fuel cells. Pollution and noise went away with the roadways, and although there are many, many lifts using the pathways, electronic pacing keeps most accidents from happening.

What have you got in the way of mass transportation? Jon asked.

Public transit lifts are programmed to follow scheduled routes guided by control strips sunk beneath the pathways, Kenneth explained. There is also an elaborate underground ‘sub’ system that the transit lifts operate within, that rises to the surface when passing through the tubes that link many of the buildings together. These lifts go in and out of offices at ceiling level, so as not to disturb the work flow any more than necessary. Exit stations allow passengers to embark and disembark whenever needed using moving walks that lower them down to floor level. Besides handling these transportation needs, the tubes structurally strengthen the buildings into one, huge complex making up the business section of the city. These same subs exit the Domes too, through openings called ‘breaks’ and then deliver passengers to areas outside of the Dome. It all works quite well, Kenneth ended.

I’ll take it from here. I’m Sam Tolliver, and I can tell you more about homes and old systems that are no longer in use, he said. Inside buildings and homes alike, movable luminescent panels provide light that can be moved wherever desired, since each structure is safely but completely energized.

Typewriters, television, newspapers and the mail system all have disappeared. Voice activated devices deliver a finished printout as quickly as the words can be spoken. Television has been replaced by ‘Holo,’ a three dimensional, life-sized imaging view that appears in front of charged wall portions. One can go completely around the image--a 360 degree view. Newspapers were eliminated, since all such news can now instantly be displayed on special Holo channels, with the added plus of the 2-way features of the system. Information can be retrieved from the Central Library or printed out right from the Holo. This same feature spelled the death of the old Postal Service, since any such print-outs come directly into each home or office. Cell phones have been reduced to implant status.

What? Jon questioned.

Oh, yes, Tolliver went on. Behind your right ear, he pointed to that area on Jon’s head, is the implant. Push against it to start and either say or think the name of the person you are calling. When you reach your party, you’ll enjoy seeing that person too, with your left eye since the optic nerve has also been tapped. If you do not want the other party to see you, simply touch the implant twice instead of once, when you begin to make that call.

When I want to end the call, Jon offered, I suppose I just touch that magic spot once more, huh?

You’ve got it, Tolliver replied.

I’ve been given quite a bit of data to swallow, and a little rest time will help me to digest it all. So Sam, off with you. Tomorrow, Jon told him as he shoved a protesting Tolliver out of his room. The next few hours were spent paging through old magazines they had saved for him and remembering the good days he had spent with his father. By the end of the day, Jon realized he now had the future in the palm of his hand.

It was back to business the next day. He learned that groceries and most stores had disappeared, to be replaced by Holo-buying, with almost-instant delivery to homes through built-in two-way receiving tubes. If the wrong item was sent via tube, it was a simple matter to return it via that same tube. Money had also been replaced, with chits. When chits were earned by the workers, their account was simply credited with the proper amount, which could be withdrawn or used as needed.

An order via the Holo, Kenneth told him, would be paid by transfer of banked chits to the merchandise center’s account. The only stores left inside the Dome are mostly clothing stores, where custom fitting of clothing is required; but with the new Holo computer sizing now being planned, those stores are soon to be phased out too.

He learned each home or office had its own food and alky tubes. You simply punch up the menu, and the food or drink that you order will come sliding right from the tubes, cooked to order and tastefully served at the correct temperature.

How do they do that?

Air and vacuum devices I’m told. The food comes from centralized kitchs each home and office complex has. Private homes are also constructed in clusters of circles, with Central Supply in the center. Waste products are disposed of--actually recycled, using built-in bins and trash receptacles.

Does everyone live in the Domes now? Jon inquired.

There are still conventional towns outside of the Domes, Kenneth explained. These towns function much like in the old days, with part of their population being made up of retired citizens who cling to the old life styles. There also has been a large exodus of younger people moving out of the Domes too, probably trying to feel the pioneer spirit again. Population-wise, there are about as many people living outside the Domes as inside.

Crime has been almost wiped out, since the government provides us with enough chits to live on, whether we work or not. Those who want more out of life work hard to earn the extra chits that make the difference between just getting by and really enjoying life.

The world is prettier than ever before, largely due to the elimination of pollution and the addition of those green pathways I told you about earlier, Kenneth told him.

Looking out over the city, Jon saw the vast green carpets everywhere, broken only by the white buildings that rose as high as the Domes would allow. Reflecting pools, most with fountains, dotted the countryside. Trees and plants appeared to be flourishing, absorbing carbon dioxide and giving back life-sustaining oxygen in return.

IT WAS INTO THIS NEW world that Jon Ryan finally stepped one day. He found little trouble adjusting to his new environment; the hardest part was to live up to the adoration of a waiting world. He was wined, dined, toasted and revered by a population eager to thank their new hero; a population that had chipped in with chits worldwide, and credited them to his personal account, so that he came back into that world a very rich man.

Even so, offers still poured in from all over the world, from companies that wanted to have THE Jon Ryan working for them. He took his time, looking for work that would be meaningful, challenging and satisfying to him.

I’d really like you to come on board Rad Ore, its president Otis Olsen told him, as first Vice. You made that perilous trip there in the first place, and I think that it’s only proper that you should see the ore return process through to completion.

I have to admit to you, that I’d like that, Jon agreed.

Besides, your extensive background and education in just about all fields, makes you a prime candidate for this job. Don’t forget, I’m eighty years old, and I don’t have a lifetime of work left in me. Get the point?

You’ve probably got several more years left in you, Jon answered.

Don’t kid me Jon. If you take or accept this offer, you could be running the place before you know it. What do you say?

I would like to come on board, mainly just to see the ore come pouring in, Jon admitted.

You getting offers from any of the other ore companies out there?

Sure. They’ve been hounding me too, just like dozens of other companies are doing. Jon went on. I guess they feel that having my name on their letterhead would mean something to their customers.

Before long, the ink was dry on his signed contract, and Jon was given his first assignment, which would end up taking him back to Unik 08, to manage the construction and the transportation of the sending booths going out there, opening up the lines. As he watched the booths coming off the manufacturing lines and going through rigorous testing, he knew that that part of the process was under capable hands. Since I wasn’t involved in the design of the booths, he thought, why don’t I spend my time on handling the shipping detail? As each completed booth came off the line, it went through more rigorous testing before being transported to the Earth sender station, the first of its kind. The new booths ended up in a special section, reserved for whole sends, but since a booth sent from Earth would not fit into a similar receiving booth on Unik 08, Jon realized that disassembly was the only solution to that problem.

I’m Jon Ryan. Your name? he asked

Will Jordon sir. I’m the super on this booth assembly line, and I’d heard that you were joining our company. Welcome, he said. It’s an honor to meet you, sir.

That’s enough of that sir routine. My name’s Jon, so please call me that.

I appreciate that, uh, Jon.

Good. Now as I see it, since a booth from here won’t physically fit into a booth up there, we have to take it apart and ship it in pieces, right?

Absolutely. We realized that before we attempted to ship the first backup booth to Unik 08. We didn’t want to take a chance on destroying our booth on the other end, since we hadn’t gotten replacement booths there yet. It would have been a crying shame, if we’d destroyed the booth you worked so hard to get up there.

You’re telling me? I’ve been there, Jon told him. Okay then. We transmit as many pieces as it will take, to get each booth running up there. Do you have workers up there yet?

We sent the first group up there just the other day. They report back that they’re doing fine in their ABEX outfits, Will told him.

They’ll have plenty to do once the booth pieces come their way. Do they have the knowledge to put the pieces back together again?

Yessir, they do, Will acknowledged. We ran them all through a crash course before we shipped them off.

Okay, so what are we waiting for? Let’s get the line moving, shall we? Jon told him.

The first disassemblies were sent to Unik that very same day. On Earth, the rows of booths grew longer each day. Every booth had its own self-contained systems. When in use, the human’s