Robert Silverberg: The Happy Unfortunate

Rolf Dekker stared incredulously at the slim, handsome young Earther who was approaching the steps of Rolf’s tumbling-down Spacertown shack. He’s got no ears , Rolf noted in unbelief. After five years in space, Rolf had come home to a strangely-altered world, and he found it hard to accept.

Another Earther appeared. This one was about the same size, and gave the same impression of fragility. This one had ears, all right—and a pair of gleaming, two-inch horns on his forehead as well. I’ll be eternally roasted , Rolf thought. Now I’ve seen everything.

Both Earthers were dressed in neat, gold-inlaid green tunics, costumes which looked terribly out of place amid the filth of Spacertown, and their hair was dyed a light green to match.

He had been scrutinizing them for several moments before they became aware of him. They both spotted him at once and the one with no ears turned to his companion and whispered something. Rolf, leaning forward, strained to hear.

“... beautiful, isn’t he? That’s the biggest one I’ve seen!”

“Come over here, won’t you?” the horned one called, in a soft, gentle voice which contrasted oddly with the raucous bellowing Rolf had been accustomed to hearing in space. “We’d like to talk to you.”

Just then Kanaday emerged from the door of the shack and limped down to the staircase.

“Hey, Rolf!” he called. “Leave those things alone!”

“Let me find out what they want first, huh?”

“Can’t be any good, whatever it is,” Kanaday growled. “Tell them to get out of here before I throw them back to wherever they came from. And make it fast.”

The two Earthers looked at each other uneasily. Rolf walked toward them.

“He doesn’t like Earthers, that’s all,” Rolf explained. “But he won’t do anything but yell.”

Kanaday spat in disgust, turned, and limped back inside the shack.

“I didn’t know you were wearing horns,” Rolf said.

The Earther flushed. “New style,” he said. “Very expensive.”

“Oh,” Rolf said. “I’m new here; I just got back. Five years in space. When I left you people looked all alike. Now you wear horns.”

“It’s the new trend,” said the earless one. “We’re Individs. When you left the Conforms were in power, style-wise. But the new surgeons can do almost anything, you see.”

The shadow of a frown crossed Rolf’s face. “Anything?”

“Almost. They can’t transform an Earther into a Spacer, and they don’t think they ever will.”

“Or vice versa?” Rolf asked.

They sniggered. “What Spacer would want to become an Earther? Who would give up that life, out in the stars?”

Rolf said nothing. He kicked at the heap of litter in the filthy street. What spacer indeed? he thought. He suddenly realized that the two little Earthers were staring up at him as if he were some sort of beast. He probably weighed as much as both of them, he knew, and at six-four he was better than a foot taller. They looked like children next to him, like toys. The savage blast of acceleration would snap their flimsy bodies like toothpicks.

“What places have you been to?” the earless one asked.

“Two years on Mars, one on Venus, one in the Belt, one on Neptune,” Rolf recited. “I didn’t like Neptune. It was best in the Belt; just our one ship, prospecting. We made a pile on Ceres—enough to buy out. I shot half of it on Neptune. Still have plenty left, but I don’t know what I can do with it.” He didn’t add that he had come home puzzled, wondering why he was a Spacer instead of an Earther, condemned to live in filthy Spacertown when Yawk was just across the river.

They were looking at his shabby clothes, at the dirty brownstone hovel he lived in—an antique of a house four or five centuries old.

“You mean you’re rich?” the Earther said.

“Sure,” Rolf said. “Every Spacer is. So what? What can I spend it on? My money’s banked on Mars and Venus. Thanks to the law I can’t legally get it to Earth. So I live in Spacertown.”

“Have you ever seen an Earther city?” the earless one asked, looking around at the quiet streets of Spacertown with big powerful men sitting idly in front of every house.

“I used to live in Yawk,” Rolf said. “My grandmother was an Earther; she brought me up there. I haven’t been back there since I left for space.” They forced me out of Yawk , he thought. I’m not part of their species. Not one of them.

The two Earthers exchanged glances.

“Can we interest you in a suggestion?” They drew in their breath as if they expected to be knocked sprawling.

Kanaday appeared at the door of the shack again.

“Rolf. Hey! You turning into an Earther? Get rid of them two cuties before there’s trouble.”

Rolf turned and saw a little knot of Spacers standing on the other side of the street, watching him with curiosity. He glared at them.

“I’ll do whatever I damn well please,” he shouted across.

He turned back to the two Earthers. “Now, what is it you want?”

“I’m giving a party next week,” the earless one said. “I’d like you to come. We’d like to get the Spacer slant on life.”

“Party?” Rolf repeated. “You mean, dancing, and games, and stuff like that?”

“You’ll enjoy it,” the Earther said coaxingly. “And we’d all love to have a real Spacer there.”

“When is it?”

“A week.”

“I have ten days left of my leave. All right,” he said. “I’ll come.”

He accepted the Earther’s card, looked at it mechanically, saw the name—Kal Quinton—and pocketed it. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll be there.”

The Earthers moved toward their little jetcar, smiling gratefully. As Rolf crossed the street, the other Spacers greeted him with cold, puzzled stares.

Kanaday was almost as tall as Rolf, and even uglier. Rolf’s eyebrows were bold and heavy; Kanaday’s, thick, contorted, bushy clumps of hair. Kanaday’s nose had been broken long before in some barroom brawl; his cheekbones bulged; his face was strong and hard. More important, his left foot was twisted and gnarled beyond hope of redemption by the most skillful surgeon. He had been crippled in a jet explosion three years before, and was of no use to the Spacelines any more. They had pensioned him off. Part of the deal was the dilapidated old house in Spacertown which he operated as a boarding-house for transient Spacers.

“What do you want to do that for?” Kanaday asked. “Haven’t those Earthers pushed you around enough, so you have to go dance at one of their wild parties?”

“Leave me alone,” Rolf muttered.

“You like this filth you live in? Spacertown is just a ghetto, that’s all. The Earthers have pushed you right into the muck. You’re not even a human being to them—just some sort of trained ape. And now you’re going to go and entertain them. I thought you had brains, Rolf!”

“Shut up!” He dashed his glass against the table; it bounced off and dropped to the floor, where it shattered.

Kanaday’s girl Laney entered the room at the sound of the crash. She was tall and powerful-looking, with straight black hair and the strong cheekbones that characterized the Spacers. Immediately she stooped and began shoveling up the broken glass.

“That wasn’t smart, Rolf,” she said. “That’ll cost you half a credit. Wasn’t worth it, was it?”