ref: b9fbb17c04e4ccfb2021dac818e514351ca8f646
dir: /troff/0405.ms/
.LP \& .ce .sp |4.25i .PP .ps 12 .CW ░ For Ralph, the experience had been far from routine. First, the client had sent him into the field without providing proper targeting data. He'd spent the entire first morning getting himself oriented\(emthat is to say, getting himself pointed in the right direction relative to the silo, wherever that ended up being located. Then there had been the hike across the desert. His gear had gotten clogged with sand. And he hadn't even been told he'd be working underground. None of it was fair. .PP .ps 12 "Well, the eggheads swear that the sun isn't burning coal," he heard Thomas saying. .PP .ps 12 "Accurate," he heard Piotr reply. Technically, he was right. .PP .ps 12 These guys hadn't changed a bit. .PP .ps 12 But hey, wait a minute. What were \fIthey\fR doing out here? \fIThis\fR hadn't been mentioned in the brief, either. .PP .ps 12 Naturally, Ralph found himself unprepared. Now he guessed he'd have plenty of time to adjust. Gradually, the impromptu reunion of old schoolmates extended into weeks, and then months of intense questioning, deep in the silo. Old hands at the question and answer game, they certainly had a lot to catch up on. But lately Ralph was starting to question the questioning itself. He'd met a new transfer named Jerrymander who was steadily filling his head with all sorts of confusing ideas. For one thing, why had a facility such as this been erected on .I Mars, .R of all places? Jerrymander seemed to know a little bit about everything, which made him especially irresistible to a \fIself\-confessed idiot\fR like Ralph. But, \fIwait.\fR Somehow Jerrymander had still managed to find himself confined .I here, .R sharing a six\-by\-six cell with, well, a self\-confessed idiot like Ralph. It was perplexing. .PP .ps 12 And of course there were additional questions. Why was everyone pretending that Super\-Sonic was a medical doctor? Wasn't that illegal? Baffled, he bowed his head to pray. .PP .ps 12 Mornings he usually spent working on the fundamentals. Who \fIwas\fR he, and how did he know for sure? How did he \fIknow\fR that he knew? Was identity itself a source of friction detrimental to the economy? This particular bit he usually sailed through with little difficulty. It was easy: he was Ralph. What more was there to say? .PP .ps 12 But on and on the workout would grind, and the nagging voice in his head continued to whisper: \fICould that ever be enough?\fR .PP .ps 12 \fRShut up,\fR he would hiss at himself, rhythmically, between reps. .PP .ps 12 "Field trip around the sun," Piotr said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder toward the triangular pink spacecraft who was also his mother. .PP .ps 12 "He means that literally," Thomas muttered out of the corner of his mouth. .PP .ps 12 Ralph got himself up. .PP .ps 12 Thomas placed a gloved hand on Ralph's shoulder, pulled hard. Suddenly finding his legs swept out from under him, Ralph had no choice but to collapse involuntarily into the dust. .PP .ps 12 "Not so fast, dipshit. \fIYou'll\fR never leave this place alive."