The Stowaway

He stole a ride to the Moon in search of glory, but found a far different destiny.
His eyes were a little feverish—as they had been of late—and his voice held a continuous intensity—as though he were imparting a secret. I've got to get on that ship! I've got to, I tell you! And I'm going to make it!
Different members of the group regarded him variously, some with amusement, some with contempt, others with frank curiosity.
You're plain nuts, Joe. What do you want to go to the Moon for?
Sure, why you wanna go? What they got on the Moon we ain't got right here?
There was general laughter from the dozen or so who sat eating their lunch in the shade of Building B. They all thought that was a pretty good one. Good enough to repeat. Sure, what they got on the Moon we ain't got here?
But Joe Spain wasn't in the mood for jokes. He burned with even greater conviction and stood up as though to harangue the workers. You wanta know why I got to go to the Moon? Why I've got to get on that ship? Then I'll tell you. It's 'cause I'm a little guy—that's why! Joe Spain—working stiff—one of the great inarticulate masses.
More laughter. Where'd you get those big words, Joey? Out of a book? Come on—talk English!
Joe Spain pointed to the huge, tubelike Building A, off across the desert; the building you had to have two different passes and a written permit to enter. The mystery building where even newspaper reporters were barred. It's only the big shots they let in there ain't it? Only them that's got a drag or went to college or something. Us little guys they tell go to blow—ain't that right?
Who the hell cares? Maybe it's a damn good place to stay away from. Maybe it'll explode or something. Who wants to die and collect his insurance?
I got to get on that ship when it blasts off because they can't push the masses around! We got a right to be represented even if we got to sneak in!
Me—I'll stay on the ground.