The Human Element

It was absolutely amazing what science could do. The last century of progress had been wonderful! Why even the circus was far better—or was it?
Going to the circus? the man with the sallow complexion asked.
Kevin nodded but didn't look at his questioner. He nervously brushed back the lock of gray hair from his lined forehead and pushed his rimless glasses into a more secure position on his nose. His worried expression made him look older than his forty-eight years.
Hear it's better than ever, the man continued in a flat toneless voice. The Great Golden Ball is supposed to be really something. Or so they say. I go every year. It's really amazing what they can do nowadays—science, I mean. Even the circus is better for it.
Is it? thought Kevin as the speeding, robot driven monorail transport rocketed past the brilliant pastel buildings shining slimly in the sunlight filtering through the plastic dome covering New New York. Oh, is it?
The man next to Kevin, discouraged by the lack of response to his attempts at conversation, quieted and both men relaxed in the privacy of their own thoughts.
At any rate, the other man did. Kevin couldn't relax. His son and daughter-in-law with whom he lived could not be aware of his absence yet, Kevin reassured himself. No one knew he was here. And when the men came for him, and Sally, perhaps with tears in her eyes, went to fetch him and his small suitcase it would be too late.
And that would be that.
The transport slowed noiselessly to a stop and most of the passengers rose to leave. The robot driver sat motionless until the last of the people, Kevin among them, stepped from the loading platform to the ground. The electronic currents whirred, the doors closed and, the circuit complete, the transport moved off into the shining caverns of the city.
The people hurried forward and passed quickly through the entrance to the amphitheater over which hung a sign:
MAIN ENTRANCE TO 2088 VERSION OF CALDWELL'S GIANT CIRCUS