“No,” said Mark, fiercely, “they won’t. They hate me. Besides, I want to go now. I’ve never been on another planet before. There’s so much to see and find out. They’ve got no right to hold me back if I want to go.”
Sheffield shook his head. Mnemonics were so firmly trained into this belief that they must collect facts, and that no one or nothing could or ought to stop them. Perhaps when they returned, he might recommend a certain degree of counter-indoctrination. After all, Mnemonics had to live in the real world, occasionally. More and more wit.h each generation, perhaps, as they grew to play an increasing role in the galaxy.
He tried an experiment. He said, “It may be dangerous, you know.”
“I don’t care. I’ve got to know. I’ve got to find out about this planet. Dr. Sheffield, you go to Dr. Cimon and tell him I’m going along.”
“Now, Mark.”
“If you don’t, I will.” He raised his small body from the bed in earnest of leaving that moment.
“Look, you’re excited.”
Mark’s fists clenched. “It’s not fair, Dr. Sheffield. I found this planet. It’s my planet.”
Sheffield’s conscience hit him badly. What Mark saw was true in a way. No one, except Mark, knew that better than Sheffield. And no one, again except Mark, knew the history of Junior bet ter than Sheffield.
It was only in the last twenty years that, faced with the rising tide of population pressure in the older planets and the recession of the Galactic frontier from those same older planets, that the Confederation of Worlds began exploring the galaxy systematically. Before that, human expansion went on hit or miss. Men and women in search of new land and a better life followed rumor as to the existence of habitable planets or sent out amateur groups to find something promising.